Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Zavian eyed the sizzling onions and bell peppers in the frying pan, unsure if they were done. When Hendrix had said, “Let’s go cook dinner,” Zavian hadn’t realized it meant he’d be doing the cooking.
“The key to delicious stuffed peppers is caramelizing some of your ingredients,” Hendrix explained as he worked his magic on the ground meat in his own pan. “It elevates the flavor and takes the dish to another level.”
Their arms brushed occasionally as they moved around each other, the casual contact creating a sweet intimacy that made Zavian’s heart flutter.
“Remind me again why we can’t just buy pre-made peppers?” Zavian muttered, forcing himself to stir the vegetables with the wooden spoon.
The aroma filling the kitchen was, admittedly, incredible. Robust flavors swirled in the air, making it seem as though Zavian had culinary skills his whole existence. He glanced around the space at the dark cabinets and countertops that echoed Hendrix’s personality. Bold, strong, and effortlessly refined.
But the six-burner stove? That was what Zavian really liked. Still, he hadn’t expected to use it. Not when he’d never cooked a day in his entire existence.
Hendrix glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Then we wouldn’t get to experience this.”
“Experience what? Making a mess of your kitchen?” Zavian’s brow furrowed as he used his powers to wipe a splatter of butter off the stove for the third time. It was becoming painfully clear that he had a touch of OCD when it came to cleanliness.
Every time grease or butter leapt from the pan, he made it disappear with a flick of his hand. The mess on the counter, leftover scraps of peppers and onions, was another beast entirely. He’d been this close to erasing it too, but Hendrix had threatened to spank him if he did.
“Mess builds character,” Hendrix had said.
“Mess builds migraines,” Zavian had shot back, flicking a bit of stray butter into the sink with an annoyed glare.
The scattered scraps were making his eye twitch like crazy. And the spanking threat? The lion shifter had clearly lost his damn mind. No one spanked Fate . Period. Zavian was the one who dished out punishments when someone dared break the rules.
Thinking of Panahasi and Jaden made him grind his molars.
“I got a question.” Hendrix moved through the kitchen with a confident ease that only made it harder for Zavian not to stare. His gaze lingered on the sculpted curve of Hendrix’s arms and chest before trailing lower to the man’s flared, muscular ass. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to sink into his mate again.
“You’re drooling,” Hendrix teased, throwing a playful smirk over his shoulder. The glint in his eye was pure mischief.
Zavian wiped at his mouth instinctively, scowling the second he realized he’d fallen for it. “I have no idea why some people are crazy,” he muttered. Turning his attention back to the vegetables, he gave them a half-hearted stir, still trying to figure out if they were done.
“That wasn’t my question.” Hendrix returned to the stove, flipping off the burners and carrying the pan of mouthwatering meat to the sink. Zavian didn’t miss the way his mate’s muscles flexed as he moved.
“How can you do your job while being here?” Hendrix glanced at him from over his shoulder. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m just curious.”
Setting the wooden spoon in the sink, Zavian resisted the urge to clean up the chaos around them. Then he reached for Hendrix’s temple. “May I show you?”
His mate didn’t hesitate. He simply nodded, a quiet trust shining in his eyes that hit Zavian harder than he expected.
The man had no idea what that meant to him. His fingertips brushed against Hendrix’s skin, the contact sending a subtle hum of warmth through him. He pushed aside a few strands of dark hair, lingering for a moment longer than he should have. It felt like silk beneath his touch, and Zavian bit back the urge to tangle his fingers in the soft strands.
Instead, he pressed his fingertips to Hendrix’s temple, allowing his mate to see inside. Zavian showed him the part of his mind where destinies unfolded, each thread woven together at a speed faster than light.
Hendrix’s brows rose, his gaze going distant, as if he were caught in the beauty of the threads stretching out before him. Zavian saw the wonder etched across the man’s features, and it made something warm and unsteady unfurl in his chest.
As Hendrix watched, Zavian studied the man’s features. He remembered the gentle graze of Hendrix’s beard against his skin when they’d kissed, the rough, yet softness of the hairs welcoming. He recalled the way his mate’s lips had felt beneath his own, yielding, yet firm enough to send his senses spinning. And those lashes… They were a thick, dark fringe framing Hendrix’s beautiful eyes.
“That’s incredible.” Hendrix’s voice came out breathy as Zavian pulled his hand away. “All of that is going on inside your head all the time?”
Zavian shrugged slightly, though the wonder in Hendrix’s eyes made it harder to brush off. “All the time.”
What once might have felt extraordinary had long since become second nature, something he didn’t even think about anymore. Twisting destinies, mapping futures, determining soulmates—it all happened without concentrated effort, like breathing.
The only time he ever noticed was when he screwed up, which, thankfully, was rare. But now, as Hendrix looked at him with reverence instead of frustration or suspicion, something inside Zavian stirred—a flicker of pride, maybe even hope.
“Check this out.” He reached for Hendrix’s temple again, brushing his fingers gently against his mate’s skin. This time, Zavian let him see the moment a sperm and egg joined, bright threads of destiny sparking to life as they wrapped around the tiny zygote like gossamer silk.
The threads shimmered, weaving together, revealing the life that would unfold:
A little girl, wrapped in her family’s love and devotion. She would experience her first heartbreak at seventeen, a sharp moment of pain that would shape her resilience. She’d go to college, the light of determination guiding her, and graduate to become a child advocate, saving the life of an abused five-year-old.
Zavian let the image linger, the bright threads twisting again, this time around the child she saved. That boy would grow into a man, hardened but compassionate, becoming a lawyer who fought relentlessly for others—championing voices that would otherwise go unheard.
Pulling his hand away slowly, Zavian’s said in a low murmur, “And it all starts with one moment.”
“It’s all intertwined.” Hendrix’s tone held a note of wonder.
“When a thread breaks, it doesn’t just affect one life—it ripples outward, tearing at the fabric of existence. Fixing it isn’t as simple as tying a knot. That’s why it pisses me off when those paths are disrupted.” He dropped his hand, irritation flickering through him. “Either Life and his brother, Death, are interfering with my decrees or the people themselves do something to change the course of their lives.”
Hendrix frowned slightly. “How can someone change it if you’ve already mapped it out for them?”
“Free will.” Zavian shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Instead of using the money for college, they might blow it on a bogus investment or waste it entirely.”
Those decisions frustrated him more than he cared to admit. Redirecting someone’s future often led to a bleaker path never intended for them. It was a constant, ongoing process, which, thankfully, didn’t require his direct attention—if it did, he’d have gone insane centuries ago.
“ Did you see Michael’s thread?” Hendrix’s voice caught.
Zavian hesitated before answering, sensing the weight of the question. “I didn’t guide it,” he admitted. “But it was beautiful.”
Hendrix breathed in deeply, then blew out slowly. “Let’s finish dinner.”
Together, they assembled the stuffed peppers, sliding the pan into the oven. The unexpected sense of accomplishment caught Zavian off guard. Who would’ve thought cooking could be so… satisfying?
“Now we clean.” Hendrix grinned, one corner of his mouth curving into a look that was pure trouble. “I’ll wash, you rinse.”
“ Or I instantly make them clean, and we chill until the food is done.” Zavian hoped like hell his mate allowed him. The thought of doing dishes wasn’t appealing.
Hendrix seemed to think about his counteroffer, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re lucky today wore me out.” With a lazy wave of his hand, he relented. “Go for it.”
In less than a heartbeat, every dish was spotless and put away, the twitch under his eye vanishing. Hendrix pressed into him, pinning him against the counter.
“A clean kitchen turn you on?” Zavian teased.
A soft purr rumbled through Hendrix’s chest. “Gets me rock-hard.”
The heat in those words sent a pulse of desire straight to Zavian’s cock. Groaning, he tilted his head, giving Hendrix better access as soft lips nibbled their way across his neck. Sensation wrecked his senses, the warmth of his mate’s mouth leaving him breathless.
Zavian’s hands slid up, palms pressing flat against Hendrix’s chest. The man’s skin was hot beneath his touch, muscles firm and solid. “You’re insatiable,” he muttered, but the hoarse edge in his voice betrayed just how much he loved it.
A beeping broke the moment, causing Zavian to scowl as Hendrix pulled back.
“What is that sound?”
“My pager.” Hendrix pulled it off his waistband. Zavian hadn’t even noticed it was there. “I have to head to the hospital.” Hendrix lingered for a moment, his fingers brushing Zavian’s. “I hate leaving you like this,’ he murmured, his voice heavy with reluctance. “But duty calls.”
Their first shared meal, which Zavian had planned to follow up with amazing sex, was ruined. Although he understood the importance of Hendrix’s job, that didn’t mean he had to like the interruption.
He watched his mate head out of the kitchen then heard the front door open and close. With him gone, the kitchen felt empty, the warmth of the moment fading, leaving Zavian standing there craving its return.
He snarled when a pain shot through his head, alerting him that a path he’d set was being disrupted. If he was feeling it, the disruption was personal. Zavian glanced at the stove before he collapsed into a fine mist, using a gap in the doorframe to escape the house.
Please don’t let our dinner burn.
His mist slid through the city unnoticed, a whisper of shadow darting between the lights. It found its way to the disruption with a single-minded focus, drawn to the chaos like a compass to north.
When he finally solidified, he swept his narrowed gaze across the dimly lit lot. Snowflakes drifted lazily under the glow of the lone streetlamp, their soft descent at odds with the tension curling in the air.
A chill far colder than the night spread through him, though it had nothing to do with the weather. Whoever was tampering with one of his decrees would suffer for it.
Painfully.
Jungle Fitness. He glanced at the bold lettering on the building’s side, then his gaze slid over two figures standing between parked cars.
Melric. Of course. Why would it be anyone else? The conniving little parasite lived to wreak havoc, and now his chaos had spread here.
The realization suddenly struck Zavian. I’m the problem . Melric had tracked him to Midnight Falls, and now someone’s carefully woven destiny was unraveling because of it.
Focusing on the man beside Melric, Zavian instantly read his life thread. Joshua Kemp. Black panther shifter. Abandoned as a child. A chip on his shoulder but inherently decent at his core.
“You’ll earn an easy grand, big guy,” Melric purred, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness. He batted his eyelashes as if he hadn’t just threatened to ruin someone’s life. “Just don’t kill him. I only need him in a body cast.”
Joshua frowned as he glanced at the paper Melric held out, a wary edge creeping into his expression. “This is Dr. Baldwin’s home address.”
A red haze clouded Zavian’s vision. Hendrix. His mate’s name on Melric’s lips felt like blasphemy, causing his fury to burn white-hot, violent and primal, as visions of tearing Melric apart filled his mind.
“Is that a problem?” Melric cooed, oblivious, or indifferent, to the line he’d just crossed. His fingers trailed up Joshua’s chest, a slow, teasing motion meant to seduce.
Joshua’s frown turned into a broad grin. “That all you’re offering, sexy?”
Zavian’s form collapsed into a swirling mist, snaking silently between cars like a shadow hunting its prey. He let his fury settle into something cold and focused, his power coiling tightly within him as he neared.
When he reformed, he rose from the mist with the quiet grace of inevitability. Every step forward sent jeweled cobblestones sprawling beneath his feet, the air crackling with energy that thickened with every inch he closed between them. He didn’t walk—he commanded the space, his presence a force that seemed to pull the darkness closer.
Zavian clasped his hands behind his back, the picture of composed lethality, and stopped a few feet away from the two men. He let the silence stretch, his cold gaze settling on Melric.
Power hummed beneath Zavian’s skin, whipping through him in invisible currents that made the snowflakes tremble mid-air. He was Fate incarnate, and any fool who dared to cross him would learn the true meaning of regret.
Joshua’s eyes widened, his lips parting. “What the hell are you?”
Melric rolled his eyes, feigning nonchalance, but Zavian caught the flicker of fear in those blue depths before it vanished behind a practiced mask.
“You will not deal with this miscreant.” Zavian’s voice was dangerously calm. “This is a path you do not want to follow, Joshua.”
The man swallowed hard, eyes darting between them. “Yeah… I—” His gaze lingered on Melric, but whatever foolish curiosity he’d had evaporated. He slapped the paper back into Melric’s hand, spun on his heel, and ducked into his car. Tires screeched as he sped away, leaving a trail of exhaust curling in the cold air.
Melric’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing to slits. “You don’t scare me, Zavian.” The fleck of fear in his eyes said otherwise. “You can’t touch me unless you want to double the pain.”
The air shifted. An intense wind whipped through the lot, swirling the fresh snow into a chaotic dance. Zavian’s power crackled, invisible but undeniable, tugging at the edges of reality itself.
“You have pushed me too far, human .” His shoes clicked against the asphalt as he stepped closer, shadows twisting and spiraling around his body. “I have tried to reason with you, to appease you…” He leaned in, allowing his features to contort into a form that belonged in nightmares, dark and demonic. “But you have proven time and again that you lack even the barest shred of a soul.”
With a flick of his hand, Melric was yanked off his feet. His body flipped in the air then hung upside down like a rag doll.
Melric shrieked, his flailing limbs punching nothing but air. “Put me down this instant, you brute!” He swung wildly, clawed fingers missing Zavian by inches.
Blood rushed to Zavian’s head, the pounding in his skull worsening. The connection to Melric was exacting its cost, but he gritted his teeth and bared it. The pain was a small price to see the menace dangle, helpless and humbled.
“Why do you insist on chasing after a man who has made it clear he holds no interest in you?” Zavian had asked the same question every time Melric hunted him down, yet the man’s only answer had been snide remarks and venom.
This time, Melric stilled, his glare scorching the air itself as if his hatred had finally found a form it could bleed into. “You did this to me,” he spat, features contorted in a rage Zavian had never seen before.
The fury was new. Which meant, after six hundred years, they were finally getting to the truth.
“Did what?” Zavian kept his hands clasped behind him, his voice a cold, neutral hum.
“Made me immortal!”
“You begged me for it,” Zavian snarled, the mist whipping around him.
“When I thought I’d have it with you !” Melric’s voice cracked, and for a moment, moisture pooled in his eyes.
Zavian didn’t flinch. He knew those unshed tears as well as he knew the man’s madness. They were as real as Bigfoot.
“Why are you so hellbent on being with me?” Zavian held up a hand, cutting off whatever fresh theatrics Melric was winding up. “Do not insult me by calling it love. We both know that’s bullshit.”
Melric was broken in ways no force could fix. His mind and heart were gnarled into something toxic, so twisted Zavian doubted the man even knew what love was . Still, Zavian needed him to say it—needed Melric to hear the truth fall from his own lips, even if it would never help.
“Put me down!” Melric flailed against the invisible hold, snarling.
Against his better judgment, Zavian released him, lowering the man to the ground. “That doesn’t answer my question.” He watched every twitch of Melric’s fingers, waiting for the inevitable lunge. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
For the briefest second, the truth flared bright in Melric’s gaze. Raw. Bare. Then madness swallowed it whole again.
Melric refused to let go because Zavian had been the only one to show him kindness.
“Deny it all you want, Zavian, but we both know you still love me.” Melric’s jaw tightened, the words hissing out like poison. “Get rid of your toy, or I will. You’re mine as long as I’m immortal.”
The threat caught Zavian mid-breath, holding him there. Melric might only be human, but he had crazy on his side. The kind of crazy that made him dangerous . If he knew the truth, if he understood that Hendrix wasn’t just some toy but Zavian’s mate , Melric would level the entire town to get to the lion shifter.
Zavian’s thoughts churned, every thread of logic leading him to the same unbearable truth. He couldn’t stay. Not if it meant putting Hendrix in danger. As soon as he put distance between himself and Midnight Falls, Melric would follow.
The thought of leaving his mate burned hotter than any rage he’d felt, an ache that burrowed deep into his soul, threatening to crush him.
He could stay, fight, and risk Hendrix’s life, or leave and carve himself in two. Neither choice was fair, but fairness had never been part of Fate’s decree. It wasn’t meant for him. But it didn’t matter. To keep his mate safe, he needed to leave.