Chapter 3
Grim
I swear that the sun, even at half-mast, is trying to kill me.
I wipe my sweaty face with the bottom of my shirt as I guide the old lawnmower across the last strip of Falkor’s overgrown yard. The damned thing keeps sputtering like it’s about to die. I’m shocked that it’s held on long enough for me to finish the job.
Thank fuck!
The sun is thinking about setting, and it’s well past the end of my shift. I couldn’t leave the place looking like it did. So when I dropped the old male off, much to my disgust, I found myself asking him if he had a lawnmower.
I cut the engine and grab the mower’s handle and drag it toward the small shed at the side of the house.
The door hangs crooked on its hinges, and I have to lift it to get it open. Inside, it smells like old wood and motor oil. I shove the mower into a corner next to a collection of rusty gardening tools. I’ll have to come back on the weekend with my tools and sort this place out.
When I turn around, Falkor is standing on his porch with two glasses. His face lights up when he sees me.
“Oh, son!” He carefully walks down the steps. “You didn’t have to do all this. You’ve already done so much for me today.”
I shrug, closing the shed door. “It needed doing.”
“I’m sure you’re thirsty.” He thrusts one of the glasses into my hand. “Fresh lemonade. My late mate’s recipe.”
The glass is cold, condensation already dripping down the sides. I take a long drink, and the tart sweetness explodes across my tongue.
“This is good,” I admit, draining half the glass in one go.
Falkor beams like I’ve just given him the greatest compliment in the world. “I’m so glad you like it. And thank you for everything today. The yard looks wonderful. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You don’t need to repay me.” I finish the lemonade and hand him back the empty glass. “Just make sure you open your mail from now on. And answer your phone when the center calls. I would hate for you to end up behind bars.”
“I will, I promise.” He clutches both glasses to his chest. “You’re a good man, Grim, you know that?”
I’m not. But I don’t say it; instead, I just nod and head toward my SUV.
“Take care of yourself, Falkor.”
“You too, son.”
I climb into my vehicle and crank the AC to full blast as I pull away from the curb, watching Falkor wave at me in the rearview mirror until I turn the corner and he disappears from view.
The drive back to my place is quick enough. My cabin sits on the outskirts of town, tucked away in the woods where I don’t have to deal with people and their bullshit. I built it myself some years back.
As I pull up to the cabin, I spot a familiar black SUV parked in my driveway.
Fuck.
What the hell is he doing here?
I can guess, and I don’t like it.
I park next to his vehicle and kill the engine, my jaw clenching.
Drake is leaning against his SUV, arms crossed over his chest, looking annoyingly at ease. His eyes track me as I approach.
“You may as well hold your breath,” I tell him before he can open his mouth. “I’m not interested in trying for a mind-bond this year. Maybe not ever again. So you can fuck right off back to the Council buildings and stop messaging me already.”
Drake’s expression doesn’t change. “That’s not why I’m here.”
I stop a few feet away from him, studying his face for any sign of deception. “Then what do you want?”
“If you answered your messages,” he says calmly, “then maybe I wouldn’t have had to resort to showing up at your house unannounced.”
“I was busy. I thought you were going to talk me into working with the Tributes again this year.”
“Nope.” Drake pushes off his truck and straightens to his full height. He’s one of the few shifters who can come close to matching me in size. “I need you to come with me. There’s someone you need to meet.”
I stare at him, narrowing my eyes. “Who?”
“Just come with me, and you’ll see.”
Every instinct I have is telling me to say no, to send him on his way, and lock myself in my cabin with a cold beer and the silence I crave. But there’s something in Drake’s eyes, something urgent that makes me pause.
I like this male, even if I don’t want to like him. I respect him too.
Fuck it!
What else do I have to do? Sit in my empty cabin and brood? At least this might be interesting.
“Fine.” I gesture toward my front door. “Give me five minutes.”
I don’t wait for his response. I head inside, strip off my sweaty clothes, and step into the shower. The water is ice cold, just the way I like it, and I let it run over my overheated skin until I feel almost normal again. Then I crank up a smidgen of heat and wash off with shower gel.
Once done, I dry off quickly, throw on a clean shirt and jeans. Drake is still waiting by his SUV when I emerge.
“I’m driving,” he says.
I grunt as I climb into the passenger seat, and he pulls out of my driveway without another word. The silence between us is comfortable. Drake has always been one of the few people who don’t feel the need to fill every quiet moment with useless chatter.
Another thing I like about him, even though he’s an asshole.
We drive for about half an hour, heading away from town and deeper into the island’s interior. The paved road gives way to dirt, and then the dirt road narrows until it’s barely more than a trail through thick jungle.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, watching the dense foliage fly past my window.
“We’re almost there.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”
I grunt and lean back in my seat, arms crossed. Fine. Why does he have to be such a prick? I hate cryptic bullshit almost as much as I hate surprises.
Another ten minutes pass before Drake finally pulls off what’s left of the road and parks in a small clearing. He kills the engine and climbs out without a word.
I follow. The air here is thick and humid, heavy with the scent of earth. Drake heads into the jungle, following what might be a path or might just be a gap between trees.
We walk in silence, pushing through hanging vines and ducking under low branches. Sweat is already starting to bead on my forehead all over again, and I’m beginning to regret coming along on this mysterious little adventure.
At this point, it’s pitch black, and I’m grateful for my enhanced vision.
“How much farther?” I ask after what feels like forever.
“Almost there.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
I grunt.
Minutes later, I squint when there’s movement up ahead. Two figures are standing in a small clearing, deep in conversation.
As we get closer, I recognize one of them.
“Is that Shadow?” I ask.
Drake makes a noise of confirmation.
Shadow used to be the Academy Leader until she disappeared. I haven’t seen her in the longest time. It must be going on a year now.
The other figure turns to face us, and my blood turns to ice. The male has red in his tattoos. I can see it all over him.
It’s a fucking Red, and he’s here on Draig soil.
A Red.
The enemy.
What the actual fuck!?
I growl low in my throat and step forward, my dragon surging to the surface with a fury that makes my whole body flame up. Drake’s hand shoots out, pressing against my chest, stopping me.
“Fury is a good guy,” Drake tells me, his voice low.
“He’s a fucking Red,” I snarl, my voice coming out more animal than human. “No Red is good. Not a single damned one.”
“He’s a friend,” Drake insists, his hand still firm against my chest. “Let them talk. I want you to hear this.”
Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready to spring. My dragon is roaring inside my head, demanding blood, demanding I tear this Red apart for daring to set foot on our island.
It’s against the law. If a Red leaves the Mistveil border, they are to be killed. No questions. No exceptions. No excuses.
Councilor Drake is breaking the law. He must have good cause. Damn him for putting me in this position.
Another growl vibrates inside my chest.
Drake’s eyes are steady on mine. He’s asking me to trust him.
Fuck him. Fuck this. Just plain fuck!
“Fine,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
Drake nods and drops his hand. We move closer to the clearing, and Shadow’s face breaks into a warm smile when she sees me.
“Grim. It’s good to see you.” She moves forward and wraps me in a quick hug. I return it stiffly, my eyes never leaving the Red male standing a few feet away.
He’s tall, with dark hair and eyes that are watching me with the same wariness I’m showing him. His jaw is set, his posture relaxed but ready. A fighter’s stance.
It takes one to know one, fucker.
“Grim, this is Fury,” Shadow says, stepping back. “Fury, this is Grim.”
Fury holds out his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”
I stare at his outstretched hand like it’s a snake about to strike. There’s no way in hell I’m shaking hands with a Red.
Drake steps forward and takes Fury’s hand instead. “Good to finally meet you in person. Shadow has told me a lot about you.”
“What the fuck is this about?” I demand, looking between Drake and Shadow. “What is a Red doing here?”
Shadow’s expression softens. “I heard what happened to you, Grim. About your mind-bond with that human fe—”
“I’m fine,” I cut her off, my voice gruff. “I need some answers.”
Shadow exchanges a glance with Fury, and something passes between them. The way they look at each other…
No. No fucking way.
“Fury and I are together,” Shadow says. “We’re mated.”
I take a step back, staring at Shadow like she just grew a pink unicorn horn. How is this possible? Shadow, who fought alongside us against the Reds for years. Shadow, who lost friends to their attacks. Shadow, who swore she’d see every last Red burn.
“You’re mated,” I repeat slowly, “to him…a Red.”
“Yes.” Shadow’s voice is steady, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. She knows how insane this sounds. “There’s a whole lot you don’t know. Octane would have been here, but his mate is expecting their second child.”
“Also a Red,” I rasp.