9

Theodore

 

 

 

“Louis.”

Theo watched as the male blinked at the sight of him. He reared back a little, then jolted forward, his eyes squinting. “Theodore? Is that you?”

Theo’s smile was grim. “Have I changed so much?”

“No. That’s just it. You haven’t changed at all.” Louis pulled back to repeat, “At all, and it’s been, what? Sixty years?”

“More like seventy.”

Louis’s mouth dropped open. “How is that possible?”

Theo sighed—it had been a very long, and a very tedious, day. “Use your nose, Wolf. It would help you. It’s right above your mouth.”

The old Lyken leader grumbled. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

“Well, considering you used to be a master at it, then you’d be the one to know.”

Louis’s lips twitched. “My nose might be older, but I never scented anything before, so I doubt I’ll scent it now.”

Theo grunted out a breath. “Do we have to discuss this on your doorstep?”

That had the older man blinking. “That’s a thing. How the hell did you make it past the guards?”

Glamor. But he wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

Rubbing his chin, he murmured, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I should hope not. I might not have seen you in decades, but we parted as friends,” the man retorted, displeasure lacing his tone.

“We certainly did. And that’s why I’m here.”

“As a friend?”

“That, and, I need to speak with your granddaughter.”

Louis’s eyes widened. “Thalia?”

“You have another?” he retorted drily.

“No. One’s enough, too. Why do you wish to speak with her?”

Theo gritted his teeth and motioned to the doormat he was standing on, making Louis snort.

“You always were impatient, pup.”

“Hardly, pup, old man,” Theo commented, tension leaching from him as Louis stepped away from the doorway, beckoning him in with a wave of his arm.

“No. Although, I get the feeling you’re far older than I am. So, maybe ‘pup’ and ‘old man’ are relative terms.”

“Everything’s relative where I’m concerned,” Theo retorted, totally unconcerned by the sentiment. He peered around the entryway. It was white with maple-paneled walls. It was also very, very long. “This reminds me of an airport.”

Louis laughed. “Be sure to tell Ade that. He’ll appreciate hearing the opinion. They’re like assholes, you know. Everyone has them, and they all stink.”

Unable to tell if he was joking or not, Theo determined to hold his tongue when he approached Louis’ brother. He’d yet to find a way to insult Louis—and that was after years of dealing with him back in the twenties. The man was surprisingly resilient, and if Theo ever had pissed him off, the former TriAlpha had never made it known to him.

He didn’t know the other brothers as well, but Louis was most definitely a bullshitter.

“I think I’ll hold my tongue.”

Though he smirked, Louis studied him carefully. “Is there a reason you wish to speak with Thalia?” he asked, but he spoke as he started down the long hallway.

Theo followed closely behind. “I saw the footage of her taking out that Beta.”

He was amused to see Louis’s chest thrust out with pride. “She did a bloody good job, didn’t she?”

‘Bloody’ being the operative word.

“Yes. Especially as she was going to be fair and wanted only to mete out justice.”

“Shows the man’s true side if he decided to go against that. Bastard deserved to die.”

Theo nodded, totally in agreement. “Sly bastard.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, and slowly, with each step to whichever destination Louis had chosen, began to release the hold his glamor had on him.

“Exactly. It came as a surprise. I haven’t seen Thalia in a very long time. Then, out of nowhere, she was on TV.”

Theo frowned at that. “Why hadn’t you seen her in a long time?”

Louis winced. “She’s unique. My sons didn’t appreciate that.”

Narrowing his eyes at that, he asked, “Appreciation . . . that’s an odd way of phrasing it. Does one have to appreciate one’s offspring?”

“No. But my sons always were difficult.” Louis turned back to him, and as he did, he jolted in place at the sight of a glamor-free Theo. “Sweet gods.”

His answering smile was tight. “No. Just the same old Theodore.”

“Hardly,” Louis said on a shaky breath. His hand came out, and it quivered in the air as he shaped Theo’s face without touching him. “F-Fae?”

Theo nodded.

Gulping, Louis whispered, “W-Why?”

“Why have I released the glamor?” He sighed. “I never used all that much on you, Louis, if I’m being honest. If one can’t be truthful with a leader, especially when one wishes to deal with him, then it’s the height of folly. I always kept it to a bare minimum. That’s why, after so many years, I haven’t changed all that much.”

“All that much?” Louis made a wheezing sound.

Theo shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t aged.”

The other man blinked. “That’s for sure. You look as young as Thalia.”

That had him wincing. “She is very young, isn’t she?”

“Hardly twenty-six,” Louis confirmed dully, his gaze still tracking over Theo’s features. “This can’t be real. How did I not know?”

“I made sure you knew enough and no more,” he replied dismissively, then, he motioned with his hand. “May we carry on?”

Jolting in place, Louis nodded and started up again, but with each step he took, he turned back to look at Theo. Though he wasn’t unaccustomed to being eyed as though he were a circus freak, it swiftly grew boring considering Louis was who he was.

Feeling cross, Theo grumbled, “I can’t be the first Fae you’ve met.” They were a dying breed, but they weren’t dead entirely.

Louis shook his head. “I’ve never met one.”

Ah, well, that explained the open-mouthed shock. Didn’t make it any less irritating, however.

Rubbing his chin where the beard had once been, he murmured, “I’m sorry for shocking you, Louis. However, I must be honest with you.”

“Honest with me? Why?” There was that wheezing tone again as the older man’s gaze glued itself to Theo.

That was the trouble with Fae beauty. It even appealed to straight, and very mated males.

“Because my reason for being here is important.”

Louis seemed to realize Theo was serious and that he needed to shake off the stupor of his astonishment. “O-Okay, how can I help?”

“It’s Thalia who can help.”

“Why?”

“Because of what she did, because of who she is, I believe she can help my people.”

Louis frowned. “My Thalia can help your people?”

“Aye.” He winced at Louis’ possessive phrasing.

“Why do the Fae need help from a mortal being?”

“Because we’re dying out, old friend.” He clapped a hand on Louis’s shoulder, squeezed. “Now, I need to know where she is. It’s imperative I speak with her.” Tension bled into Louis’s form, and Theo knew he was about to be lied to. Before the man could speak, he sighed. “Please, don’t lie to me, Louis. I can sense the approach of bullshit.”

That had the other man freezing in place. Louis’ gaze glued itself to him for endless seconds, then, licking his lips, he whispered, “You’re not going to hurt her, are you?”

Theo snorted. “Hurt her?” The very idea had him chuckling. “Hell, man, I intend to make her queen.”

“Queen?” Louis’s eyes widened. “Of the Fae?”

His smile turned cool. “Aye.” Then, he grabbed the other man when he stumbled back and nearly fell on his ass.

 

** **

Thalia

 

Thalia squinted up at the light on the ceiling. It came from a window on the roof, but it was also domed. In the light, she could see the engravings in the glass that had figures dancing on the walls around her bed. It was an unusual touch, but one she appreciated.

Beside her, Rafe slept. To her right, Mikkel also slumbered, but he was further away. Where Rafe was cuddled into her, his body tucked tightly against hers, as much of her skin touching his as possible, Mikkel was distant.

That made sense considering their mate bond. Or current lack of it.

Still, it was a surprise to see him there at all.

When she’d gone to bed yesterday evening, only Rafe had joined her for the nap that had turned into a full night’s sleep. Mikkel hadn’t rested with her, and she’d half expected if, and when, he did sleep, he’d have rested on the low sofa that sat in front of a grand fireplace just opposite the bed.

He hadn’t.

He was here.

With her. Them.

Today was going to be a good day, she realized with a smile.

Leaning up on her elbows, she stared over the quarters her grandparents had assigned to her. To them. And realized that either she still had the taste of a teenager—the last time her family had been allowed to contact her—or they just had epic style because the place was gorgeous.

Nothing like the minimalist rooms that made up the other parts of the house she’d seen so far, and this suite was all about her comfort.

The bed was large and wide, it had a canopy overhead with a mosquito net that trailed over the four corners without irritating the sleepers beneath. The gauze was fine, but it was high quality, so it shifted like silk in the breeze that came from the covered windows, bringing the scents of the sea, salt, and sand to the room.

The walls were a dusky pink blurred with cream touches. She’d never have said she was a pink kinda girl, but here? It just worked. Like on an epic scale.

Especially in comparison to the white on white décor in the rest of the place.

Here and there were ink and charcoal drawings—her favorites—surrounded by white frames, which hung in pride of place above console tables that her grandmother had decorated with touches that spoke of how well Rosa knew her.

From a pot figurine of a tailor’s mannequin that had a beautiful tribal necklace around its ‘neck,’ to a book that was held open on a stand—she hadn’t checked out the book’s title, but had no doubt it would be one of her favorites.

The idea that she could have spent her exile here was enough to dampen her mood, but then Mikkel shifted on the bed, and she couldn’t be down. It just wasn’t possible. Not when his scent filled her senses, and he moved enough that his foot touched hers.

He snuggled deeper into the light covers, and as he stretched out his legs, his foot rubbed hers once more.

Sadly, that seemed to be his wake-up call. His eyes popped open, and the glittering orbs were dulled from sleep until they brightened and sparked with realization. A realization that had him leaping upright and shoving his hand over his face.

“It’s okay,” she told him gently.

He flinched. “I know.”

“You can carry on sleeping. I won’t touch you.”

Mikkel turned back to look at her, and though he was sneering, it wasn’t in a mean way. Which she knew was odd. How could a sneer be anything other than mean? But this wasn’t. It was like it was aimed at himself.

“That isn’t what worries me,” he said, his tone gravelly.

Rafe stirred at her side. “Why are you two awake?” he mumbled into her arm, and a wave of tenderness overcame her at that moment. It was so strong, tears pricked her eyes as she tilted her head to press a kiss to the crown of his temple. She moved her hand, dragging it over his shoulders before running her nails through his hair.

“It’s morning,” Mikkel said gruffly, and she knew his tone was because he’d watched her touch Rafe. The gruffness might have stemmed from jealousy, but she didn’t think so.

If anything, her touching Rafe seemed to. . . .

She thought about the strange look in his eyes, and though it seemed bizarre, she knew Mikkel’s longing was the reason for his rasping voice.

Why he kept himself apart from her, she didn’t know. What she did know was that forcing the issue wouldn’t win her brownie points. So, instead of inviting him to curl up beside her for a pile-in, something that all Lyken were comfortable with, she murmured, “He’s right, Rafe. It’s morning.”

“No. Sleepy.”

Her lips twitched. “You can stay in bed.”

“Good.”

“I’m going for breakfast.”

Rafe stilled. “Food?”

She’d already seen how much Rafe packed away, so she wasn’t entirely surprised that it gained his interest. In fact, both of her men ate a lot. Like a shit-ton. But Rafe? She’d watched him eat twelve, twelve of his mother’s homemade empanadas yesterday, and then down a steak an hour later.

It was a good thing he was Lyken, otherwise his heart would never stand up to all the saturated fat.

“Yeah. Food. I’m sure there’s some somewhere in the house,” she said drily.

“But this isn’t just food. It’s breakfast.”

She grinned. “Want some bacon?”

Mikkel snorted. “Who doesn’t want bacon for breakfast?”

“Thalia never eats it,” Rafe mumbled against her arm, then as Mikkel gaped at her in horror, he slowly crawled into a sitting position. “Ugh. I feel like I’ve been drugged.” He shook his head, reminding her of a dog who’d just been dunked in water. “But I’ll get over it for bacon.”

She watched as both men escaped from the mosquito netting, and sitting up, enjoyed the show. Rafe wore a pair of briefs that revealed the taut line of his cute butt. He was surprisingly thick down there. Those glutes were eminently bitable. But they were nothing to his abs. He even had that ‘V’ thing that made her mouth water.

Mikkel wore a pair of board shorts but his torso was on display, too. His arms and shoulders, hell, his spine, were just one long ripple of muscle. Just watching him reach for his shirt on the floor had her sitting up straighter so as not to miss one single aspect of the show.

She really wished she could see his ass, but it was most definitely covered by those shorts of his.

Determined to burn them at some point, she watched as Rafe riffled through a dresser on one side of the room.

“When did that happen?” she asked, blinking at the sight.

“When did what happen?” Rafe asked absently.

“Who unpacked?”

“The maids. When we arrived. Rosa told us last night,” Mikkel inserted as he scraped a hand over his stubbled jaw. The sound of the bristles was definitely audible. “I should shower.”

“We all should shower.”

“But breakfast,” Rafe bleated. “We need food first.”

Thalia laughed. “You can’t be starving after what we ate on the plane last night.”

“Can’t I?” he groused. “We’re still growing.”

Mikkel snorted. “I’m not.”

“True. You’re just unfortunate.”

“When do you stop growing?” Mikkel asked. “My brothers aren’t going to get taller than me, are they?”

Amused at the outrage in his tone, she murmured, “I doubt it. Rafe doesn’t mean we’ll get bigger.”

“Thalia might. She’s young enough.”

Waving that off, she answered, “We’re still developing. Muscle wise.”

“Which means?”

Rafe snickered. “That they might not get taller than you, but your brothers might be able to beat your ass.”

“Well, we can’t be having that,” Mikkel retorted, pounding his fist into his palm.

“I wouldn’t worry. When we bond, you’ll get some tricks up your sleeve.”

His ears pricked up at that. Like, literally. If ears could move, they totally moved. “What kind of tricks?”

“Didn’t you notice your mother grew stronger when she mated your stepdad?”

“I was only a kid, I didn’t notice shit outside of what she fed me and that I had a new dad. Also, that they disappeared a lot in their bedroom,” he tacked on wryly.

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, she’ll have been stronger, faster. She won’t age, either. Not like humans do. Won’t get ill. . . .”

“Basically, everything they say in Hollywood is true,” Rafe mumbled as he dragged on a T-shirt, covering the lushness that were his abs. Fuck, it was a crime for either of them to wear shirts. Ever.

“Everything?”

“Well, aside from the silver shit.”

“I already knew that.”

“How did you know that?”

He winced. “You don’t want to know.”

“Sure, I do.”

He rubbed his chin. “Another time. But I know silver doesn’t hurt Lykens.”

“Nope. Not that we’re infallible. We can still die. Just, it’s usually of old age.”

Thalia shook her head. “Silver might be folklore, but mercury isn’t.”

Rafe frowned. “I’ve never heard that before.”

“It’s old lore. I read it in one of the books from the TriAlpha collection.”

“A book on weaponry or healing?” he asked, curious.

“Healing. Next time we’re there, I’ll show you the section,” she told him, amused at the gleam of fascination in his eye.

“Why mercury?” Mikkel asked, breaking into the torrent of questions Rafe was about to spew.

“I don’t know,” she admitted on a shrug. “I just read that the silver is an old wives’ tale but mercury isn’t.”

“Well, it’s poisonous to all creatures. It makes more sense than silver. Although, no bullet is good for a Lyken’s health. Be it of gunpowder, silver, or mercury,” Rafe intoned.

“I wonder what will happen because of the TriAlpha bond, though,” Mikkel murmured pensively. “Maybe it will make you impervious to even mercury. Rafe couldn’t telepathically communicate before, could he? So that’s a new trick. Why wouldn’t there be more of them?”

“It’s definitely new,” Rafe murmured, his tone as dry as the Sahara. “But it’s useful.”

She rubbed at an itch on her arm. “You’re human. You’re limited to the extras you can get as a perk.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, pouting, but from the twinkle in his eyes, she knew he was teasing.

“Are you staying in there all day or are we going for breakfast?” Rafe demanded, sounding grouchy. And she’d learned he only sounded grouchy if he was hungry.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she retorted, then blinked when, seconds after scampering out of the netting, a dress was flung at her. She caught the ball in her hands before it fell to the floor.

“I take it I’m wearing this?” she asked wryly, throwing it overhead—she’d gone to sleep in her bra and panties. Then, as she stared down at herself, she grumbled, “Where did this even come from?”

“Didn’t you listen to anything Rosa said last night?” Mikkel asked.

“No. Apparently not.”

“They stocked it with clothes for you. And considering your wardrobe is limited, that’s probably useful,” Rafe murmured. “Now, you’re covered. Can we eat at last?”

Laughing, because less than three minutes ago, he’d been fast asleep on the bed, she nodded and headed toward him, Mikkel at her back as they approached the door. Pulling it open, she jerked back in surprise at the sight of her grandmother.

Who was pleating her hands together.

Rosa was not the pleating sort.

“Nanna?”

“Oh, wonderful, you’re awake.”

“Have you been waiting for us?” Thalia asked, confused as to why Rosa would have been pacing outside her door.

“Not for long.”

“How long?” She peered down the hallway. “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s here to see you.”

“Someone?” Mikkel demanded, his tone cooling as he gently pushed Thalia through the door. “Who, Rosa?”

“He’s an old friend of your grandfather.”

Thalia relaxed a little, not that she’d been riled up, but she knew Mikkel was bristling. His protective instincts apparently on red alert. “Well, sure. I mean, I don’t know why he’d want to meet me, but—”

Rosa grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers. “You do what you want, Thalia. Do you hear me? Your grandfathers promised me last night that they’d fight for your free will.”

That had her jerking back in surprise. “‘Free will’?” She turned back to look at her mates who looked both perplexed and pissed off. Two guesses as to which of them was pissed. “Why would my free will be in question?” She laughed at how silly the question sounded, but Rosa’s tense features didn’t relax.

Her beautiful almond eyes were wide with tension as she whispered, “I don’t know. He won’t say. Just says that he needs you. Or at least, Louis won’t tell me. He might not want to concern me.”

“Seems it’s too late for that,” Mikkel snapped, “you’re already concerned.”

Rosa nodded. “I-I’ve never met one before.”

“One what?” Rafe asked, stepping up to Thalia and cupping her shoulders, drawing her back against him for support.

“A Fae.”

And like that, Thalia wasn’t so sure the day was going to be as good as she’d figured just five minutes before.

 

** **

Theodore

 

“Honestly, I’m not an ogre,” Theo groused into his orange juice. The way they were looking at him, he was starting to feel like a pariah.

As one, Louis, Ade, and Matthew jolted in their seats.

Sighing, Theo mumbled, “You didn’t always used to be such pussies.”

Louis coughed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m not here to terrorize you. I’m here for your help.”

“No, you’re here for our granddaughter,” Matthew retorted, his brow crinkling with distress. “And what are we supposed to do? How can we protect her against your kind?”

Theo pursed his lips. “Didn’t you tell them what I said about making her a Queen? Does that sound like I’m going to hurt her?” Exasperated about covered it, but he withheld the waspish words that longed to fall from his lips.

He’d catch more bees with honey. Or, he supposed, more Wolves with a rare piece of steak.

“In my experience, being Queen isn’t painless,” Ade rumbled. “Rosa hated it. And I’m not entirely sure my daughter-in-law enjoys it, either.”

“Well, I can’t help that. Preferences being what they are, it’s a personal opinion. But physically, they’re safe, aren’t they?”

“Safety is also relative. In the public eye, they’re always in danger.”

“Yes, because Thalia can’t handle herself, can she?” Theo said on a hiss. “I didn’t just watch her annihilate a man twice her weight, twice her apparent strength, and older than her by a good two decades.”

“He has a point.”

Theo nodded at Matthew. “Thank you.” He took another sip of his juice. “You were friends before, and friends you shall remain. I am here with not a single intention of causing you pain. Or Thalia,” he quickly amended.

Louis, who’d been playing at eating his cereal, put his spoon down. “We can ask for no other assurances.”

Theo studied the men who, to a one, all appeared the same, and yet, were entirely different. Theo supposed that was his magic helping him, but he also thought they each wore their personalities well.

Though they were all dark, tall, stacked with muscle, and with olive skin that aged well, their individual characteristics set them apart.

Matthew, the politician, had a more mobile mouth—a born orator. Louis, the strategist, had more lines on his forehead, and he had a tendency to rub his temples like there was a perpetual ache gathering there. Ade’s hands were fluid–they shifted and danced as he spoke, punctuating his words in a way that spoke of creative flair.

So, while their eyes were all the same shade of cerulean, their noses were all Roman, and their mouths wide, they were easy to set apart.

Ade scraped his knife against his plate as he set the cutlery down. “We only just got her back.”

“You mentioned this last night,” Theo remarked, aiming the comment at Louis, who shrugged.

“She’s an only daughter. Not a set of triplets, Theo. You can’t imagine her childhood was easy.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not her fault.”

“No. But neither did our sons know what to do with her.” Matthew’s mouth tightened. “Her unique situation created circumstances that they believed necessitated. . . .”

When the other man broke off, Theo prompted, “‘Necessitated’ . . .?”

“A form of house arrest,” Louis gritted out, shoving his napkin on the table as he pushed his chair back in an explosive burst of energy.

Theo frowned. “House arrest? Like a prisoner?”

“Has your English suddenly failed you?” Louis demanded, stacking his hands on his hips as he leaned back against one of the tall windows that acted as the exterior wall of the breakfast room where they were eating.

Theo placed his arms on the cool glass of the dining table. “No. But you can forgive me, surely, for not understanding why a child would have her behavior . . . limited? I’m also surprised as to why you allowed this to happen. You’re not exactly the shy and retiring type.”

“Against the TriAlpha, there is no point in fighting. If anyone knows that, we do.” Matthew’s tone was somber.

“Explain,” Theo commanded.

“Their will is written into the fabric of our universe,” Ade murmured gently. “There is no disobeying that kind of law.”

“You mean, your gods power you?” Having never understood the ways in which the TriAlpha were powered, this information was more than intriguing.

“Aye,” Louis said grimly. “For good or ill, they empower us and strengthen us in ways that I can’t, not even to a Fae, explain. It is impossible to describe. Only someone in that position can possibly understand.”

Theo murmured, “You’d be surprised at what I can understand.” Far more than they could even begin to comprehend.

“I’m sure. But as we have no words to describe or even to quantify how we gain our powers, there’s little use in trying,” said Matthew abruptly. His head tilted to the side. “They’re coming.”

Louis nodded, then he approached the table, his seat, which had fallen against the floor moments before, was quickly righted, and he took his place.

Eying this, as well as Ade’s picking up of his paper as though they hadn’t just been in a deep discussion about the hows and whys of the TriAlpha’s rule, Theo stared at the door, just waiting for Thalia to enter the room.

When it opened, he saw Rosa first. She was close to frantic with nerves. He’d known her many years ago, and though time had changed her slightly, it hadn’t altered her character. She was as strong, as vivacious as ever. Which was why her sudden fear perplexed him.

Did their knowing his true nature truly change things in their eyes?

The Fae didn’t have a bad reputation. He’d always hidden behind his glamor because to live in the human world, he’d had no choice. But had he realized the effect it would have on other supernaturals, Theo realized he’d have had no choice but to hide then as well.

Determined to learn why the Lykens were so scared of the Fae, he almost missed Thalia’s first steps into the room. Her pace was strident, her body language non-aggressive, but she leaned forward in a way that made him think she was eager. . . . What had Rosa told her?

Her white-blonde hair had been tossed up into a messy topknot, and tendrils curled and unfurled about a face that, not unlike Helen of Troy, would launch a thousand ships.

Of the many hundreds of thousands of females he’d seen in his life, he knew he’d never seen a face like that.

It settled on him. Searing into his memory banks, sparking life into his retinas, imprinting her there until he knew, point blank, she’d be the last thing he’d ever see when his ancestors eventually did call him home.

Her gaze, casting about the room for someone—he thought she sought him out—came to a stuttering halt when those ice-blue orbs hovered over him.

For a second, there was silence.

It seemed to grow, ever pervasive, spreading through the room, dragging with it time as it, too, stood still. Waiting, hovering, quivering in response to the first clash of their eyes. Then, it broke. With a breath. A single breath.

It burst from her lungs, slipped from her lips . . . and Theo felt it.

All those feet away, and he felt it.

Like it gusted over his mouth, like they breathed the same air.

She trembled. Her body quaked, and behind her, a man, scowling now, came up to her. She didn’t turn her head, didn’t need to know the identity of the male to trust, implicitly, that he would hold her upright. Theo watched as she sank back against him, allowed the other male to take her weight, to support her.

With approval in his eyes, Theo climbed to his feet. The chair scraped against the tile floor, making the frozen tableau shatter into a million pieces, but he ignored it. Instead, he stood there tall and proud. His hand sliced upward, diagonally cutting through the air. Making a fist, he pressed the curled fingers to his heart and made a deep bow, their eyes trapped the whole while.

She blinked, swallowed thickly, but before she could say a word, he declared, “Theodore Gabriel Sidhe, your highness.”

“Thalia Lyndhoven,” she whispered, and as he focused on her, he saw how her pupils were blown.

Full bloom.

Her hand, quivering, moved out. Theo watched as it found another’s, the fingers clasping hers tightly as a second male made himself known. The two men couldn’t have been more different. One Hispanic in heritage, the other Scandinavian—or, at any rate, with some Viking in his veins.

Theo licked his lips at the sight of the three of them.

“My mates,” Thalia whispered, her voice close to inaudible as she saw the location of his regard. “Mikkel and Raphael.”

His lips curved. “We are your angels.”

She coughed. “Excuse me?”

He motioned. “Mikkel. Another name for Michael, no? Archangel—Michael was the leader of God’s army. Raphael. Archangel—the healer. Gabriel. Archangel—the messenger.”

He knew he’d staggered her because she slumped hard against the male at her back, and the other gripped a tight hold of her arm to keep her upright.

“Thalia!” Rosa cried, rushing forward, but Theo declared:

“No! Still!”

And like that, the room ceased moving. The heartbeats slowed to the smallest of lulls, oxygen trickled in and out of lungs which moved in the tiniest of increments. . . .

“What have you done?” Thalia demanded, her voice hoarse as she glanced around the room and took in the exaggerated motions her grandparents were making.

Matthew’s orange juice went down so slowly, they could see it disappear wave by wave.

“Created privacy,” he replied, unapologetic, when she gaped at the myriad tasks her family were performing that took a lifetime.

“Privacy? What for? What the hell’s going on, Thalia?” the Norseman at her side bit off.

“H-He’s. . . .” Her mouth worked. “But this can’t be. All three? At once?”

Theo jerked his chin up. “It’s unexpected. That I agree.”

Her eyes widened. “You came for me. Why?”

“Because, as my name attests, I have a message for you. The Fates have a tricky way of making the impossible seem sensible.”

“Thalia, sweetheart, talk to us. What’s going on?” the man at her back asked quietly, kindly. He was the healer, Theo realized. The Norseman, aggressive and bristling, was a fitting Mikkel.

“I am Thalia’s mate,” he said, his lips curving as he caught her eyes with his once more. “Aren’t I?”

She nodded, slowly. “T-This feels different.”

“It will. I’m Fae. Not human or Wolf,” he murmured, his nostrils flaring as he discerned the scents in the room.

“F-Fae?”

That she stuttered spoke of her surprise. The woman who could fell a Beta, who fought for justice, who had been exiled among her own family . . . she did not stutter.

A feeling fluttered in his chest. At first, it was small. Almost like a zygote of sensation that began to grow, expand, and take over with each breath.

As she looked at him, her eyes wide, wary and wild, Theo felt a part of himself open for her.

He thought he’d known love. Had thought he’d understood it, and yet these stirrings were. . . .

He knew nothing else like it.

They choked him. Suffocated him.

And with those feelings, the sudden urge to reveal himself, all of himself, overcame him.

Knowing that he could not possibly bewilder her any more than he already had, he revealed himself. The true Theodore. A Theodore that not even Brian had seen.

And even as his heart panged for the man he’d loved for years, Theo knew he’d inadvertently accessed the next part of the journey that was life, and let his wings unfurl.

As the muscles twitched, the feathers ruffling and stirring in agitation, he watched as Thalia’s eyes closed and, straight into her mate’s arms, she fell back and into a faint.