Chapter 35
KILLIAN
In the early night, when a slice of moon was just peeking out from behind the clouds and the wind was rippling the forest’s crowny tops, I was mid-stroll back home, tossing my keys in the air, then catching them without looking.
The often-present grin crossed my face as I whistled a tune I’d heard somewhere in my childhood.
If sex was food, I’d be morbidly overweight.
But I wasn’t just a pretty face. After all, I hadn’t been renamed Skeleton Man for nothing.
Gentle Eyes was the other nickname I’d grown fond of.
Born with an overload of energy and the finely honed ability to annoy even the grass itself—Mom’s words, not mine—I managed problems with my bare hands, saving my wolf counterpart for emergencies only.
Also because the fights wouldn’t last long enough for my entertainment.
I returned to the apartment as soon as I heard the rumors. I would have said that the gossip was terribly wrong and creatively ridiculous, but there were too many different people babbling about it.
At first, I assumed people at the party were already wasted. Then the pack’s channels were clogged with the news of my best friend meeting his fated mate in the arena. They said the same of my twin, but that his had rejected him right on the spot.
I’d missed the saddest show of the year, it seemed.
Still, nothing could’ve prepared me for the spectacle that awaited me.
I froze on the threshold of the living room. I was speechless—and I never ran out of words.
“Holy—”
There they were.
C and Thor.
One was sprawled on the sofa, feet dangling off the end; the other lay flat on the floor like a corpse.
“Aunt’s tits…” I muttered under my breath, blinking at the carnage. “What the hell happened here?”
No response.
C’s eyes were bloodshot, the kind one got from crying too long.
Thor was in nothing but boxers with tiny red reindeer all over them—weird.
Mud was plastered on the backs of his hairy thighs, and he had what looked like a pine cone stuck in his hair.
His knuckles were torn open, and one bruised arm was flung across his face, shielding his eyes.
My gaze zeroed in on the cracks over Logan’s arms. Darker than usual.
I crouched near C. “What happened, lil’ bro?”
A few seconds older, I never ceased to remind him of it.
“Shut it, Kill. I’m not in the mood.”
“Ah, you see, there are some rumors doing the rounds.” I scratched the back of my neck and eased myself into the armchair, careful when bypassing Logan’s massive figure on the carpet.
I could handle my twin, but Logan in such unstable conditions?
Hell no. I liked my head where it was—on my neck, not used as a bowling ball to eradicate more pine trees.
“I heard you got rejected, C. Tell me it’s a joke.”
One eye cracked open. Callum’s jaw flexed.
“People need to mind their own damn business.”
“Hold up, so it’s true? Rejected, C?”
“Yeah, I was!” Callum exploded onto his feet. “Been waiting my whole life for her, for fucking nothing. Nothing!”
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The framed picture of a wolf in a sheep floatie sipping a mojito dropped off the wall.
I rubbed my forehead, wondering if this was something solvable.
“Well, aunt’s tits. This is bad.” My gaze flicked to Thor. “You know who the chick is?”
The heavy arm over Logan’s face showed no sign of wanting to move.
“And what the hell happened to you, Thor?” Could it be that Thor really found his mate? Alive and kicking? It looked like she’d killed him instead. “You get some cherry after the game, Captain?”
Silence.
“I mean, I’m the last wolf to judge.” I studied my friend, as still as the table. “But I gotta ask, was the babe any good? You don’t exactly look satisfied, T-man. Maybe I could teach her a thing or two, then let her give you another try—”
I suddenly found myself pinned against the wall, taking down the mounted lamp and furniture in the process. Three framed pictures fell—why the hell did we have so many, anyway?
Long fangs glinted beneath a snarl. “Shut the fuck up before I invert your ribcage.”
“Hey, chill, T-man! I’m sorry, alright?” I held up my hands.
Logan released me with a steamy huff, turning away and raking a hand through his messy hair. The pine cone rolled down his shoulder. I caught it and spun it between my fingers.
“So,” I drawled, trailing behind him into his room, keeping a safe distance, “why didn’t you tell me or C?”
Logan grunted again. That appeared to be his new way of communication.
With my shoulder resting on the door frame, I watched as the Terminator—the team captain, the most cherished and wanted bachelor of our whole pack—worked himself into a frenzy over one single girl.
Logan picked up his phone, typed something out, then stopped and grunted, tossing it onto the mattress with a huff.
Then he picked it up and repeated the process all over again. Hell!
“Is she the Islander’s twin?”
“Yeah,” Logan breathed out.
I cursed.
“She’s just so…” Logan shut his eyes tight and winced, covering them with his big palms. “Just so…”
“Hot?” I offered, but an icy silver gaze zipped me up. I recovered quickly, though. “She can’t possibly be hotter than my sweet pea. Can introduce her to you, if you wanna release some pres—”
The desk chair crashing next to my head cut me off.
“Don’t push me, Kill. Isn’t that clear enough?”
“Gotcha!” I lifted my hands. “So, how about we go to the bar to find some—”
“I don’t want anyone else!” he snarled. “I just want her.”
“Never thought I’d see this day come,” I muttered, “but I was saying to find some alcohol for you and the magic B&B for me.”
Boobs & Booze. My fave combo. I needed those—both, in no particular order—after what I saw and what I had to do to help my friend and my twin.
“And you can tell me more about this special lady of yours.”
LOGAN
Kill didn’t expect me to nod. Neither did I.
However, part of me knew my Bunny Doc needed time to think, to ponder, probably to make all those pros-and-cons lists with her Post-Its and rulers.
Not that I could find a way to get to her house without the damned Islander, her father, and her rabid friends barking at me.
I wasn’t sure I could control myself around them, either.
I was already on edge, hanging to the edge of the chasm by a hand.
Hell, even Killian mentioning my Bunny Doc in that lewd way earlier sent my blood nuclear.
Plus, my room reminded me of all the times we’d talked over the phone. Guilt punched my stomach hard, way harder than any punch I’d gotten today at the game. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I panted with my mouth open, fighting the nausea rising from my stomach.
When I looked at my unmade bed, sheet tossed aside, pillow still bent and holding the shape of my head, I could see myself lying there, eyes closed and a stupid smile on my face, listening to her voice as she droned on and on about exams and other daily things. Those were simple times. Perfect times.
When I glanced at the desk, I flinched and averted my eyes immediately to my bare feet.
A memory of her telling me to be kind to my feet because they carry us around all day hit me.
Fuck.
All I could see was me sitting at my chair as I helped her study, the PDF of her book open on my laptop, trying very hard to focus on quizzing her instead of gawking at her on the video call—and failing miserably.
Damn, when I first saw her there, staring at the camera expectantly, I almost fell off my ass.
My breath had whooshed out of my chest. She’d paralyzed me, looking so adorable.
Clutched in her small, cute hands had been that big brick of a book she’d had to memorize by heart—not that her juicy brain had had any problems with it.
That pen tucked behind her cute ear, the ear I’d wanted to bite, and two more pens styling her hair.
I’d wanted to snatch and throw them away, see them fall all over, maybe enjoy her irritated face before I kissed it better.
Gorgeous. Mine.
My room didn’t lie. It was a physical reminder of how far gone I was. Of how I’d fallen helplessly, headfirst in love with my adorable mate with a big brain and even bigger heart. I was so proud of her. Her courage inspired me. There wasn’t a safe spot in my room anymore, nowhere untouched by her.
I had to leave.
I hadn’t even showered, hadn’t healed my game wounds. But why bother? The wound that mattered the most, that hurt the most, couldn’t be patched with stitches or wolf healing properties.
My mate had indirectly rejected me. The moon-shaped necklace tied around my wrist was a solid reminder of that. The worst part? Her tears had corroded me like acid.
And it was all my fault.
Scratch that, my damn parasite’s fault!
“But if she hasn’t turned you down already, she probably just needs time to adjust. The mate bond is some heavy shit,” Killian said some time later, swirling the foam of his beer.
The two of us sat in a booth in the corner of the Rampant Donkey.
No crowds at this hour, just the bartender cleaning the same spot on the counter over and over, two freshmen playing backgammon, a lonely lady making a house of cards and mumbling to herself, and a small group chatting around a pool table.
It took six pints to get me to talk about what was clogged up inside.
“She’ll come around, and then you two can make up for lost time,” Killian kept reassuring me.
I ran a hand through my hair, then stopped. Bunny Doc liked my hair. Called it fluffy. I released my locks and dropped my hand immediately.
“Damn, you look worn out. I’ve never been in a hurry to find my mate, but after this? With you and C? My mate can stay wherever she is. Have you tried calling her?”
“A lot. The line’s dead,” I groaned, taking another long sip, my Adam’s apple working hard. What I couldn’t get out of my head was the way Yvaine had looked surprised by her own disappointment. Like she didn’t expect I was capable of doing what I’d done.