Chapter 37
Idril
Their scents hit me, and the scream tearing out of my throat dies.
Cedarwood, smoke, and cold stone, layered over crushed black pepper, sun-drenched leather, and wild clove. The combination is so intense it knocks me back. So perfect, it makes my heart swell with something enormous and overwhelming. Something that feels like safety.
Love.
It’s the scent of home when I haven’t had a true home in decades. Home, when I’ve been searching for one all my life.
Tears spring to my eyes, and a smile tries to break free. My body and soul know, before my mind even has a chance to catch up.
My Mates.
Scent Matches. I know down to the depths of my soul that these are the scents I’ve been waiting for my entire life. The ones my mother promised me existed. The ones my heart yearned for that are meant to make me whole and fill up all the broken, empty spaces inside of me.
Finally, finally, all the stories my mother told me are coming true. My fated, perfect, gods-chosen Mates are standing right in front of me, and all I have to do is look up.
None of this matters anymore. None of the pain or hurt or fear matters because they’re here. Somehow, they found me, and they’re mine. After all these years of waiting and hoping and dreaming…
Everything is going to be alright.
“Omega,” Daxen’s Alpha Command rips my heart out of my chest and shreds it. A whine explodes up my throat, tearing my vocal cords like razor blades.
Oh, Fates, he did it again. He used his bark on me, and it’s so much worse because—
because—
I look up—and my eyes lock with Daxen’s. He stares back with nothing but contempt in his sharp, grey eyes and a cold fury twined with disgust on his beautiful face. His expression morphs into something impossibly cruel and hard.
Vaelenor stands behind him, his attention trained on the destroyed room, looking anywhere but at me.
He isn’t…
They aren’t…
Oh, gods… Neither of them know.
Another whine breaks free. The joy in my chest curdles and turns rancid.
The suppressant.
They can’t scent me back.
They have no idea what I am to them. No idea that the Omega they hate so desperately is their Fated Mate.
Why didn’t I consider it? Why hadn’t I thought—
Because your Bond with Caelan isn’t a Scent Match Bond, it’s something else. Something neither of you understands. Why would you ever think that these males would be your Scent Matches?
I feel it then.
A piece inside of me begins to shift. A part of my soul, right behind my sternum, starts tugging and pulling at my very core. I glance down to see two bright gold threads snap out from the center of my chest. They shimmer and pulse, and are so very alive.
They’re beautiful. Ethereal.
Mate Bonds. I’m watching my Mate Bonds form right in front of me.
And it only takes a moment for me to realize that something is very wrong.
There is no joy. No warmth or hope. They should be reaching out to Dax and Vae eagerly. Should be racing across the room—enthusiastic and certain—to wrap around the two males and bind us together the way Fate has always intended.
Instead, they hover, hesitant and scared. Cautiously, they sneak forward, like they’re starting to sense what I already know and understand.
That they’re not wanted.
That I’m not wanted.
The realization is a knife through my heart. It hurts worse than any cruel word from Daxen, or a cold accusation from Vaelenor. My hands fly to my chest, sure I’ll feel hot, sticky blood from an open wound pouring through my fingers.
They are my Mates, and they have no idea.
And worse, they wouldn’t want me even if they knew.
“You have questions we need answered,” Dax snaps. “So get up, and get downstairs.”
The threat is real. I feel it, and so does the thread belonging to Daxen. It recoils, snapping back hard and curling protectively around my upper body.
Vae’s thread keeps moving. With my heart in my throat, I watch as it reaches for him. He takes a single step forward, but Dax flings an arm out to stop him. “Watch it, you’ll step on the wood. You don’t have shoes on.
Then he turns those disgusted eyes to me. “Get up, Omega.”
“She doesn’t have shoes on either, Dax.” Vae murmurs, and that golden, shimmering thread pulses brighter, inching a bit further.
I eye my Mates warily. The pain in my chest transforms into something dark and empty.
The longer I watch them, the more obvious it becomes that none of this is going to end in the fairy tale I’ve dreamt of.
“She’s the one who made this fucking mess to begin with,” Dax snarls.
I swallow another whimper, having no desire to anger him even more than he already is.
Hesitantly, I rise on shaking legs and make my way towards them.
I don’t even notice the wood. All I can see are the threads.
They surge forward like I’ve granted permission, stretching across the space separating us, desperate to make the connection they’re meant for. They shoot forward—
And bounce back.
It’s like they hit a wall. There’s nothing. No connection. Just an absence where there should be an answering thread reaching back for me.
My Mate Bonds recoil and pain explodes through my chest. It’s sharp. A physical burn, like the two males standing in front of me have reached into my chest and wrapped their hands around my heart. Now they’re squeezing, harder and tighter while it cracks under the pressure.
The agony radiates outward in pulsing, painful waves that make my lips tremble. I bite my cheek to keep from crying out, and the taste of blood explodes across my tongue.
The threads pulse once, then once again, before they begin to fade from view.
They’re still there, still reaching, their golden light flickering with the same uncertainty and confusion that mirrors my own emotions. But now they’ve retreated inside of me to bury themselves beneath my skin. Like they’re hiding. Like they’re ashamed.
Like they know—like I do—that it would be easier if they simply didn’t exist, than to face the males who just rejected us.
I blink, trying to refocus my attention on the Alphas—my Mates—but the pain is debilitating. All-consuming. It thrums under my skin and lights up all my nerve endings, and for a moment, I’m half sure I’m about to have a heart attack.
Another whine falls past my lips, but I’m in too much shock to cry out otherwise. I can barely focus on anything but the pain. I want to speak, but nothing outside of the small whimpers of an injured, dying animal escapes my lips.
How has this happened?
Why? What is it that makes me so unlovable? What is it about me that causes every person in this world to reject me other than my mother and Caelan?
Am I so broken? So worthless that not even my Fated Mates can feel the Bond between us?
Because in just the last few minutes, I’ve finally discovered why I’ve been so drawn to them despite how they treat me. It’s an echo of the Bond, pulling us together. Making me want them.
And it’s also the reason their words and actions hurt so badly.
If I can’t even stand to see them hurt—why don’t they feel the same?
Vae clears his throat. “That’s uhm—That’s kind of the look she had on her face right before the ceiling exploded, so maybe we try not pissing off the magical being who has powers we don’t understand.”
His words are a hiss of warning, not directed toward me. I hear what he’s saying, but I don’t understand the words. They’re a jumble in my mind, arranging and rearranging themselves until they finally start to make sense.
The ceiling. Of course.
Vae must have told Daxen about how I somehow blew apart the beams in the ceiling, and that’s why they’re here. Not because they wanted to see me. Not because they wanted to talk.
No, they’re here to interrogate me some more.
Well, the joke’s on them. I don’t know what I am, and I don’t know what I’m capable of. I suppose that, in a way, Vae is right. If I tell them they’re my Mates and they reject me outright, I honestly have no idea how I’ll react.
I don’t know what might happen at all.
I sag, feeling like a marionette whose strings have been cut. It’s too much for one day. For one lifetime. The pain, the dream, the realization that the two males who hate me more than anyone else in the world are mine.
The males who are meant to love me. The males my mother promised would save me someday. Who would take me away from my Father’s cruelty and give me a life of safety and love and belonging.
I suppose the first part came true, in a way. They took me away, but they didn’t save me.
They just moved me from one hell and dumped me into another.
“Let’s go. Downstairs.” Dax steps to the side and motions for me to walk ahead of him.
I feel disconnected from reality again, like nothing’s real.
The pain has become secondary—hidden beneath layers and layers of cotton wool until I can finally function without wanting to throw up.
I take one step, then another, and before I know it, I’m reaching for the handrail on the stairs with trembling fingers.
A few more steps, and I’m at the landing. A few more and I’m in the hall, staring blankly at the sconces flickering on the wall.
The flame is low, but steady. I tilt my head to the side, mesmerized by the sight. It’s small. Just a flicker, really. Not enough to be a threat, but enough to light the hall.
Enough to burn.
So small. So contained. It flickers and burns and refuses to go out.
I want to be that flame.
I want to exist only to burn.
The stairwell door closes, and I scent Vae behind me. Leather and clove, and gods… I want to bury my face in his neck. I want it so badly it’s a physical ache. I want it so badly I can’t choke back the tears that start slipping silently down my face.
There are no stories about what it’s like to find your Scent Matched Mates and realize they hate you.
No tales about girls who lose everything before they’ve even had a chance to grasp it in their palms. No happily ever after that teaches you how to navigate the feeling of wading through a dream you can’t wake up from.