7

Theodore

 

 

 

Theo liked trains.

They weren’t fast, and they were, in their own way, irritating with the noises and the smells and the cluster of humanity, but he hated planes. Though they could get a man faster to his destination, speed wasn’t always a good thing. He’d come to learn that over his many years.

Humans—they were always rushing. Always looking for someone, somewhere, and somehow. . . . So many questions with so few answers out there.

He’d never understand their small minds, their contentedness with such simple things. The questions they asked weren’t even important.

Why did the universe exist?

Did it matter?

They existed. Would they choose to stop existing if they found out the reason why they were there at all?

Where did they come from?

Was that really, truly relevant?

They were here. That was what counted.

If they asked the important questions, Theo knew they’d have advanced much further than they already had. Instead, they looked to the stars when many solutions were here, on this planet. In parallel realms that they should have been able to access . . . if they had the gumption and the brains to ask the right damn questions.

Theo jolted when he realized a small boy was gaping at him. He tilted his head to the side and smiled at the child. Now, children, they were the wise ones.

Of course, adult humans disagreed. Often disbelieving them. But they were the ones who truly saw. They were open to endless possibilities until life dragged it from them.

It was sad, but Theo always made sure he had time for children.

His smile, however, didn’t reassure the boy, because he immediately spun around and pressed his face into his mother’s arm. She gave him an absentminded pat on the head as she studied something more important on her cell phone. Theo eyed the small piece of technology, huffing at it.

Another idiot invention of an idiot race.

Rubbing his chin, he stared out onto the landscape rushing beside him. It had been a long way down to Florida, but he was there. Almost. He was in the Sunshine State at least. Far closer than he’d been before.

The invitation to stay with the Lyndhovens had been given many moons ago. Back when Woodrow Wilson was still President of the USA, and the rumblings of World War One had been stirring in the nation. Still, Lykens were usually hospitable.

Should he have called them? Asked them if he could stay?

But what would have been the point? What would he have said?

“Louis, your granddaughter is the key to an ancient Fae prophecy. Would you mind if I came and hobnobbed with her, figured out what to do with her, before I snatch her and take her to Fae court?”

Yes, he could easily imagine how well that would have gone down.

He huffed at the thought.

It wasn’t like he was going to take her to Fae court forever. Just for a short while, until they figured out exactly how she would help his people, exactly what her role in the prophecy was.

That was the trouble with prophecies, though. They were never all that easy to reason out. How could they be when they’d been crafted thousands of years ago and by Gods who rarely mingled with human society, never mind Lykens!

Grumbling, he got to his feet. His back ached and his legs were tired from sitting still for too long—even pins and needles befell an ancient Fae from time to time. But then, he’d been aching all round since Brian’s death.

The truth was, Theo knew he’d never get over his lover’s passing, and yet, here he was, faced with a situation that was the total antithesis of that.

Thalia Lyndhoven was destined to help him, was fated to be his partner as they resolved the sticky situation the Fae found themselves in.

Which meant Brian had been a blip in Theo’s life. Intended for nothing more. . . .

His throat felt thick at the thought. How could that be? How was it possible? He didn’t know, didn’t want to ask the questions, but unlike the humans, he knew the right ones, because they were the ones that hurt the most.

Sucking in a shuddery breath, he headed for the first-class bar at the end of the carriage. “Scotch, please.”

The bartender nodded and poured him a finger as Theo took a seat. When Theo clucked his tongue, another finger appeared. Another two more clucks had the level where he wanted it.

Handing over two fifties, Theo said, “Thanks. Keep the change.”

“Thanks, sir!” the server, a kid of maybe twenty-two, gushed.

“Just keep it topped up,” he ordered, “and there’s more where that came from.”

He was always generous with money. Why wouldn’t he be when it came so easy to him? Money might as well have been paper. He could conjure it up like he could conjure his clothes. Like he could have conjured this train if he’d wanted.

When the world was one’s oyster, the pearl was hard to find.

Well, that is until he’d seen Thalia Lyndhoven on video the other day.

He feared he’d found his pearl, and the trouble was, he didn’t particularly want her.

“You okay, sir?”

The kid’s Brooklyn accent was nasal and heavy, grating on Theo’s ears even if the concern was touching. “No. Not really.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“The tip was freely given, kid,” Theo remarked as he swirled the Scotch in his glass. “You don’t have to be my shrink.”

He shrugged. “Might as well talk. I’m used to it.”

For a second, Theo was stunned at the boy’s blasé tone, and then, he thought about it. Really thought about it. As the words ‘why the fuck not?’ drifted through his mind, he blurted out, “My partner died four years ago, and I’m finding it hard to get over him.”

The kid’s mouth turned down somberly as he nodded. “I feel that. My dog died last year. It hurts.”

Theo blinked. Was he comparing his dog to Brian? For a second, he wasn’t sure whether to be outraged or amused, then he blew out a breath, and gritted out, “Yeah, death sucks.”

Especially for a man who’d seen a lot of it in his thousands of years of living.

That was the trouble with existing forever. Few other fuckers did, so he was alone for the most part. Unless he was with his own people, and they were just cunts.

Rubbing his chin which felt weird now that he’d shaved, he murmured, “It’s time to move on, and I don’t want to.”

“You decide when it’s time to move on. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

“That’s pretty good advice, kid,” Theo said gruffly.

“Brian. The name’s Brian.”

For a second, he choked. What were the odds? Theo asked himself, then he nodded. “Nice to meet you, Brian. I’m Theo.” God, how that hurt. To say the other man’s name and think only of his Brian.

What was the likelihood that he’d meet a Brian on his goddamn way to meet with Thalia? Talk about his past colliding with his future.

“Well, Theo, like I said, and Oprah, too, if I’m being honest, you can’t rush this stuff. There’s no point. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

“I have no choice.”

“Don’t we always have a choice?”

Theo smirked into the amber nectar in his glass. “No. We don’t. Sometimes, things are bigger than us and we have no option but to roll with the punches.”

Brian winced. “I get where you’re coming from, man. But, like I said, if you push it, the only one you’ll hurt is yourself.”

“And there’s the rub. I know I’m in for a world of hurt, but I have no choice.” He raised his hand in a toast. “Obligations. They suck.”

Brian blew out a noisy breath. “Tell me about it. My scholarship funds the rest of my degree, I’ve worked all year to pay for everything else it doesn’t cover, but I’m working on this shitty train because my mother’s boyfriend cleared her out and left her with dick-all. What was I supposed to do? Just enjoy the summer and catch up on my courses, or help her out?”

“You’re a good kid,” Theo murmured, his tone approving.

Brian pursed his lips as he polished a glass—his grip on it was so fierce, Theo was surprised the beaker didn’t shatter. “Sometimes, it would be easier not to be. Especially as she has shitty taste in men. I warned her this would happen, but she never listens. My cleaning up after her messes won’t help her learn, but I can’t see her out on the street, can I?”

Theo eyed the kid. He was skinny and scrawny in the supposedly smart uniform of the first class lounge on board. The waistcoat was too big, the shirt fit too tight. He looked like he’d been given the cast offs of at least three former members of staff. His hair was clean and neatly gelled back, his jaw nicely shaven. His eyes were bright, hazel, and they were his one redeeming feature. Something that took his ordinary face into the stratosphere.

“Was she a good mom?” he asked, curiosity driving him when he knew he should stay out of it. Nothing good came of his interfering with the lives of mortals.

He’d probably be wise to remember that when it came time to meeting Thalia.

Brian frowned as he reached for the liquor bottle and topped up Theo’s glass. “No. Not really.”

“Then why do you help her?”

“Because. . . .” His frown deepened. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. It’s ingrained in me, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve done it all my life. Cleared up after her messes when I was a kid, making shit right for me and my baby sister. Why stop now?” He winced. “Sorry for swearing, sir.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Brian grinned. “Thanks. Theo,” he tacked on his name at the last minute. “But, going back to what you were saying, this obligation, are you sure it’s not too much for you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it is. But I don’t have much choice, and the truth is, I’ve had to deal with much worse over the years. The older I get, though, the harder it is to lose people.”

“That’s deep, man.”

Theo cocked a brow. “It is?”

“Yeah. It is.” Brian hunched his shoulders as he leaned his elbows on the bar. “It’s never easy loving people. No matter how many times it happens, it’s never going to get easier,” he mused. “The best thing we can do is surround ourselves with people who give a shit, you know? Who make those hard times easier to cope with.”

Theo scraped a hand over his jaw once more. The habit was ingrained, and wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon because he had yet to get used to not having a beard.

Would meeting Thalia make this grief he felt for Brian easier to handle?

Was it strange, approaching a potential partner, with the terrible ache in his heart for another?

Theo thought it spelled disaster, and maybe it did. Maybe that was the truth of it, but he had no choice.

He was a prince.

And through Thalia, he would be king, and she would be his queen.

Clearing his throat, Theo whispered, “The person I’m going to visit . . . she’s going to change my life.”

“For the better?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. More responsibilities, I guess. Less time on my hands to do what I want. Although, since my partner’s death, time hasn’t exactly been my friend. Four years have gone by, and it might as well have been four days.”

“How did he pass?” Brian asked softly.

“Heart attack.” Theo’s jaw clenched. “He was old.”

“He was?”

“Yeah.” It was hard for Theo to admit that. Hard to whisper because few were as old as he, and yet here he stood, healthy and hale when Brian had been so much younger than him. A babe in arms by comparison. “He was seventy.”

“Shit. You weren’t joking. He was old.”

Despite himself, Theo’s lips twitched. Out of the mouths of babes, he thought wryly. “Yeah. He was. But he loved me. I loved him.” More than Theo had ever known possible.

Truth was, Brian had taught him how to love.

He cleared his throat as tears clogged it. For a second, he knew they were going to fall, then he grabbed his tumbler and downed it all. Brian whistled but silently poured it full once more. Theo passed over two hundred bucks which swiftly found their way into Brian’s pockets—he couldn’t blame the kid for wanting the money.

It made the world go around, after all.

Stupid humans. Finding importance in the shit that didn’t matter.

“You said ‘she’, earlier,” Brian commented quietly. “The person you’re going to meet, I mean.”

Theo looked at the kid, knowing where he was going with that particular line of questioning. The fluidity of the Fae and the rigidity of humans was something that had never coalesced over the years. Even if now they had kinder terms for it than simply ‘sodomites.’ “I’m bi.”

“Figured as much.” The kid shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure I understood.”

Because understanding was so important.

Theo’s lips twitched at the thought, then as he ran his finger around the rim of his glass, he whispered, “I miss him.”

“Is it wise to go to someone new? Won’t you hurt them?”

“Maybe, but like I said I have no choice.”

“And like I said . . . we always have a choice.”

Theo scowled. “You’ve never heard of destiny?”

Brian jerked back. “You being serious?”

“Yeah. Deadly serious.”

He’d thought it was destiny when he and Brian had met and fallen in love. But, when with each year they stayed together, Brian had aged, the sad truth had been revealed.

Had they been bonded, in the way of his people, Brian wouldn’t have aged a day.

Instead, Theo had had to watch the love of his life die like any other human, when to Theo, Brian was anything but.

“Destiny shapes our world in ways we never take into account,” he mumbled into his glass. He said ‘we’ but he meant ‘humans.’ Another way in which they were short-sighted.

Jesus, it was a good thing they were the apex predators. Otherwise, they’d have been fucked. Some days, he wondered how they’d made it this fucking far.

“Wow, I never met anyone before who believed in fate and stuff. Not for real, anyway. And not unless they were wearing hippy shit and stank of weed.”

Theo snorted. “Good to know.”

Brian flushed. “Meant no offense, sir.”

They were back to sir. Theo sighed. “It’s okay, Brian. You don’t have to agree with me on everything. The tips will still flow as long as the whiskey does.”

At his prompt, Brian obeyed with a grin.

As he took another sip, he thought about Thalia. How he’d felt when he’d seen her in the challenge arena. Had she stirred his blood?

Yeah.

He admitted that to himself with a deep gulp of whiskey. Gods, how he wished the burn was still there.

“You must be a heavy drinker, sir. I’ve never seen anyone down as much as you without falling off their stool.”

He snickered. “What a dubious honor.”

Brian laughed. “I guess. Should I not serve you anymore?”

“I’ve a liver like iron. I’ll be fine.”

And he would be. In more ways than with the whiskey.

That was the bitch of it. He would always be fine while the people around him fell to the ravages of old age…

But Thalia—she was the prophecy born, wasn’t she?

She had to be.

A child of three, born for three, to bear three.

It had to be her.

There were no single children born of three. Not like with the Lykens. Their TriAlpha had always been of great interest to the Fae. They represented a kind of fertility that had eluded their race.

It was why they were dying out, though by longevity they technically weren’t.

The prophecy would restore that. Rectify the natural order.

Theo rubbed his forehead where a headache was starting to stir.

She had to be the solution. She had to be. Otherwise, what was the point in carrying on?

He closed his eyes and tossed back the full tumbler. Then, staggering to his feet, he murmured, “Thanks for the drink and the chat, Brian.” Handing over a few more hundred dollar bills, he headed off without a backward glance.

His destiny was biting him on the ass. He didn’t need to look behind him to know that.

 

** **

Rafe

 

The minute Jenna walked through his front door, Rafe scented that she was pregnant. It was the strangest thing.

His senses had always been weak, had always been underdeveloped in comparison to his sisters. But now?

At the same time as him, Thalia lifted her head and rage flashed in her eyes.

“Who the fuck is that?”

He reached over and pressed a hand to her shoulder. “My sisters.”

Though she settled, a part of him was both amused and satisfied that she didn’t like the prospect of other women being in his house.

She had no reason to feel concern, no reason whatsoever, and he never wanted her to feel in any way inadequate, but equally, it did his male pride good to see those beautiful aquamarine eyes of hers flash with fire.

And then, the minute that crossed his mind, he felt guilty.

He could already sense her bitch pacing around the tight confines of her body, the creature was still agitated despite his reassurance.

The last thing any of them needed was for Thalia, in a jealous rage, to shift.

“Honestly,” he told her quietly. “It’s my sisters and my parents.”

Mikkel scowled at them both. “You can smell them from here?”

Thalia shot him a look. “Shut up.”

“What is it?” The water splashed as Rafe smoothly front crawled over to them.

“I know for a fact the chlorinated water fucks with your nose.” Mikkel squinted at him, the lines at his eyes growing deeper as he ignored the sun to study Rafe further. “You’re a fucked up kind of Gamma, know that?”

Despite himself, his lips twitched. “Thank you. I think.”

The human male shrugged. “Just saying it how it is.”

“You mean like a jerk?” Thalia insisted, her hackles still raised as she remained half-turned in the water—half of her facing them, half of her twisted toward the terrace doors where the noise was coming from.

“There’s no need for concern. My mom has a key.”

“Why didn’t she let herself in the other day then?”

“Because my father was with her.”

Mikkel snorted. “Everything suddenly starts making sense.”

He shot him a wry look. “Ya think?” The water on his chest started to dry, and he dipped deeper into the pool so his skin wouldn’t tighten. “I’m staying in here.”

“What? Even though your house has just been taken over by your family?”

“For that reason, and that reason alone, I’m staying in the water. My father won’t come near the pool,” he said with no small amount of surety.

“Why not?” Mikkel asked, peering over the infinity pool that had one of the finest views in the city. “Something wrong with it?”

“Yeah. It messes with your nose. Like you pointed out.”

“So, he won’t come near the water?” Thalia grunted. “That’s stupid.”

“He says no self-respecting Wolf would bathe himself in a vat of chlorine. Naturally, I’m included in the ‘no self-respecting’ generalization.”

“I really don’t like your father,” Thalia mumbled under her breath as she finally turned the whole way. She didn’t haul herself out of the water though, just hooked her arms over the side of the pool and pressed her chin to them as she kept look-out.

“What’s she watching for?” Mikkel asked under his breath.

“Strange women,” Rafe told him, scraping a hand through his hair to slick it back.

“What kind of strange?” Mikkel asked doubtfully.

“I can hear you, you know?” Thalia grumbled. “And he means women who are unknown to me but might well be known to Rafe.”

Mikkel nodded, his understanding evident in the sage gesture. Then he squinted again. “How stupid do you think his family is to bring a woman Rafe fucked to a family get-together?”

“He has a point,” Rafe inserted drily.

She turned back to glower at them over her shoulder. “As far as I’m aware, your father and sisters hate you, don’t they?”

Rafe winced. “Apart from Laura. And my mother doesn’t hate me.”

“Well, what’s to stop them from muddying the waters?” she asked, ignoring his statement like he hadn’t said a word.

“I doubt they’d want to come up against you,” Mikkel retorted. “They’d have to be mad after what happened the other night.”

“Madness and stupidity have the same root in my opinion,” she said with a huff, and Rafe looked on with delight at her head that glinted gold in the sun.

She was his.

He still was having a hard time believing it. Not that he didn’t accept it, because he did. But when he looked at her, he just had to blink a few times and process the fact that this crazy, beautiful, powerful, strong, Alpha female was his.

When she’d come outside earlier, she’d about blown him away. He’d had other women in his house, of course he had. He’d had the place over fifteen years, and he hadn’t been celibate. But, of all the women who’d used the pool, they’d never worn something as drab as Thalia and managed to look like catwalk models.

Her one-piece was navy blue. It had a kind of knot at the belly that made the fabric swathe as it gathered just under her breasts and at her hips, and against her creamy skin, it seemed to make her look all the more golden.

He didn’t think she could look more gorgeous if she wore a G-string or a barely there halter. Not that he’d say no to her wearing such a thing, but gods, what she did to him in that was torture enough. . . .

Especially as he’d intended starting something in the pool. Something his family had just interrupted.

Cockblocked by his parents.

Great.

Grunting as his family began to spill out onto the patio, he dipped his chin under the water and viewed the terrace from the shallows.

He had zero desire to climb out and socialize, and knew he’d be able to hide here until his mother hustled him out.

He fully intended on waiting until then. After all, she’d be in the kitchen, arranging the food, for only the gods knew how long, so he could hide out here away from his father for the interim and keep the kids entertained when they dove into the pool.

Mikkel moved closer to his side, not particularly close, just maneuvering in a way that told Rafe something that warmed his heart. . . . The other male had his back.

He wasn’t sure why he knew that was what that slight posturing meant, just knew it to be the truth.

Rafe found he liked that.

He had two more people in his world that would have his back, it just sucked he needed them against his family and not an actual enemy.

Today, of course, had to be the day that broke the pattern.

The doorbell rang again, and with the noise came a sudden scent of food.

“Pizza?” Thalia asked, turning back to look at him.

“I’m as surprised as you,” he admitted. “Mother mustn’t be cooking.” Which meant. . . .

He groaned as he saw Sara sweep outside guiding four different men with her.

She caught sight of him in the water, narrowed her eyes at him, and then with her thumb, motioned for him to get out of the pool.

“We have been summoned,” Mikkel said, his tone amused.

“Yeah. Great.” He groaned when he saw his father come out to inspect the dishes that were being retrieved from the special boxes the delivery men were unpacking.

“She hired caterers?” Thalia asked, her nose wrinkling as she made no move to get out of the water.

“Yeah,” Rafe murmured. “She normally does the cooking. I’m surprised.” Dressed in black pants and shirts that they had to be regretting in the heat of the day, the men unpacked enough food to feed the clan twice over.

His nose scented everything from pizza to adobo beef.

Even though he wanted to stay away from his father, he really wanted some of the chicken and pesto pizza he knew his mother would have ordered especially for him.

“Damn, I don’t have your nose, and that smells good.”

Thalia huffed a breath. “Men.”

Rafe and Mikkel shared a look then laughed. “Aren’t you hungry?” Mikkel inquired.

“I guess,” she grumbled.

Mikkel surprised both of them, Rafe thought, when he moved over to where she was standing. Rafe eyed them as Mikkel slung an arm around her shoulder and used it to hook her and drag her near. “I know you’re hungry.”

“I guess I could eat.”

“You don’t eat enough,” Mikkel said simply even as he turned back to look at the caterers. “I bet they’re gonna load up that epic grill of Rafe’s, and you could have a juicy steak.”

“Of ours.”

Both of them looked back at Rafe with a frown. “Huh?” Mikkel asked.

“Our grill,” Rafe corrected, even as he stepped closer to them. “What’s mine is yours now. That’s how it works.”

Mikkel’s eyes flashed with confusion. “What if you don’t have much to give?”

“Then it’s a good thing I have too much, isn’t it?” Rafe retorted drily, sliding his hand around Thalia’s waist, sandwiching her firmly between them.

“Overachiever,” Mikkel said with a snort.

Rafe laughed, and it was so remarkably liberating that he shocked himself. He knew his family felt the same way, too.

“Why are they staring at us?” Thalia asked quietly when the twenty-five strong party of his family turned toward the pool to gape at them.

Rafe felt heat flush his cheeks. “I guess they’re not used to seeing me laugh?”

Tension filled Thalia. This time, when her She-Wolf began pacing, he truly felt it. Not like an echo, or a shadow, but as though he could literally see her.

He felt his own heart speed up, his own hackles rising. Choking out, “Thalia, calm down,” he watched as she glanced at him with a scowl.

“What? Why should I? You’re nearly sixty, Rafe. In sixty years, they haven’t heard you fucking laugh?”

“There isn’t much to find funny at these kinds of events,” he mumbled in his defense.

Her lips flattened. “I don’t like this. I don’t want them here.”

Mikkel heaved a sigh, “Tough.”

She stiffened, “Huh?”

“I said ‘tough.’” When she gaped at him, Mikkel stunned them all—himself included, Rafe thought—by dropping his head and pressing a kiss to Thalia’s nose. “They’re his family, Thalia. Sometimes, family can be dicks. Just means we don’t have to see them often, but when we do, we bite our tongue and deal with it.”

“But they made him miserable,” she argued.

“So? Most family does. It’s what they do,” he countered with a chuckle. “At least, human families.”

“Lyken ones, too,” Rafe confirmed with a grunt.

“He hasn’t laughed around them, Mikkel. Why should I acknowledge them when they’ve made him so miserable?”

“Because they’re his kin. You put up and shut up today, and we don’t have to see them again until next year,” he soothed, tightening his arm around her shoulder.

Though she was stiff, Rafe watched Thalia relax a little into Mikkel’s embrace.

Over her head, Mikkel flashed Rafe a concerned look—widening his eyes and raising his shoulders in a tiny shrug. It seemed Mikkel had sensed Thalia’s She-Wolf, too.

Was that the mate bond at play?

Or had she been projecting?

She could do that, Rafe had seen it when she’d confronted her father’s council. And then, in the plane when she’d blown her top and her shift had broken down into that mind-bending deceleration where, for countless seconds, she’d been non-corporeal.

For the rest of his life, Rafe knew he would never be able to unsee such a sight.

Unease filtered through him, but he refused to allow any tension into his body because if her She-Wolf, who was prowling around, sensed his agitation, she’d react further.

Soothing a pissed-off wolf wasn’t on his to do list today.

When his mother made another ‘haul ass’ gesture, he sighed. “I think we need to make an appearance.”

“I don’t want to,” she grumbled, turning her face into his shoulder. When she pressed a gentle kiss to his trapezius, he tried not to melt, he really did.

“Well, we’ll have to wait now,” he groused.

“Why?”

“You just gave me a hard on.”

She stiffened. “I did not.”

“You did, too,” he teased, just to see that wide-eyed look aimed his way.

She peered down through the water and gaped. “Seriously?” she whispered, her attention entirely off the party making a shit-ton of noise on their terrace.

“Seriously. Have a feel,” he told her casually. “See for yourself.” He jibed her, hoping she’d do it, not because he felt like being teased, but said teasing had made the She-Wolf cease her pacing.

Making a mental note that humor and sex would calm the creature, he stifled a sound that was half groan and half laugh when she tenderly patted the front of his board shorts.

“You really are,” she whispered, glassy-eyed now as she began licking her lips.

“That’s enough of that,” Mikkel retorted, reaching over and grabbing her arm. “Let’s keep the hands where we can see them. If Sara motions any harder for us to come over, she’ll give herself a hernia.”

Though Rafe snickered—his madre was definitely waving her hands through the air like a drunk cheerleader halfway through practice—he stiffened, and his erection disappeared when his father scowled over at him.

Clenching his teeth, he gritted out, “We’d best go over.”

She stunned him by, quick as a flash, grabbing a hold of his chin and forcing him to look down at her. “You’re mine,” she told him, her tone like gravel. “I protect what’s mine.”

The words didn’t come from her.

How he knew that, he wasn’t sure.

If they had, he might have been put out. He hated the reminder that he needed her protection, but this was her She-Wolf.

“I know,” he told her solemnly. “And you’re mine. You shield me, I save you from yourself. Don’t forget that.”

At his words, the flat look in her eyes disappeared. He recognized the start of a half shift and wanted to wince.

“Thalia, the kids will be introduced to you. I need you, not your bitch, in control.”

The piercing hazel eyes retreated. “Of course,” she told him easily, like her She-Wolf hadn’t just conversed with him. Albeit shortly.

As regal as the queen she would be one day, she began to pull herself from the water. The sight of her ass, a curvy luscious handful, caught his attention—Mikkel’s too, by the looks of it.

He watched the pull of the muscles in her arms as she hauled herself all the way out. Kneeling, she held her hand out for him. “Together,” she said softly.

He nodded. “I’m just going to use the stairs.”

Her head tilted to the side. “Why?”

He felt his Adam’s apple bob as he glanced over his family who were half-watching the three of them. “Because I prefer to.”

Mikkel climbed out, too, the move easy. His strength evident.

When both of them frowned down at him, he ignored them and waded over to the steps. Climbing out that way, he joined them seconds later and immediately wanted to be back in the cool depths as the heat of the morning hit him.

She grabbed a firm hold of his hand and tightly clasped his fingers. He wasn’t sure whether the reassurance was for her or for him, but he appreciated it either way.

As they neared the tables—the caterers had also brought some along with them, and he realized how much thought had gone into this party—he wanted to scowl at his mother.

She could have asked or at least warned them that she was planning something.

Still, he knew better than to question.

Though they rarely got along, his father upheld his mother’s decisions.

Being poisoned by one’s mate had a habit of doing that to a man.

If Carlos thought he was being disrespectful, he wasn’t above beating Rafe as punishment. And that was the last thing he needed today—his mate, and Thalia’s second mate, witnessing him having his ass kicked by a man forty years older than him.

Tension constricted his chest, but he pushed it aside.

He wasn’t the same man who’d been beaten by his father so many times. He was no longer the Gamma who was scared to climb out of the pool in front of his siblings in case his arms weren’t strong enough to haul himself out of there.

His throat clutched with the remembered humiliation of two years ago—it had been one of the trigger points for him starting to go to a human gym.

He’d needed, badly, to gain muscle and weight. He’d never have gotten any help from his pack. They kept Gammas small for a reason.

“What are you guys doing here?” he called out, his voice huskier than he’d have liked.

“To celebrate your mate bond, of course,” his mother declared, clucking her tongue at him as though he were an idiot for not having figured that out sooner.

Maybe he was, because he didn’t see why his being mated necessitated a BBQ.

“We’re leaving shortly for the airport.”

Sara’s face fell. “You are? And you weren’t going to come and say bye to us?”

Rafe frowned. “When have I ever?”

Sara cut Thalia a look. “You’re mated now. Things change.”

“Why? Because she’s a Princess?” At Mikkel’s words, which were the verbal equivalent of a gauntlet, everyone froze.

Then, they flushed.

Even his father.

Which was like making a miracle, in reverse, happen.

“No, of course not,” Sara blustered.

Mikkel stepped forward and picked up a piece of pizza. Before he took a huge bite, he murmured, “Sounds that way to me. You weren’t interested in Rafe before, but now he’s got a mate, and not just any mate, but the TriAlpha’s daughter, you’re throwing BBQs?” He sniffed. “Smell some BS around here, guys?” Then, he gnawed down on the pizza, blankly looking around Rafe’s sheepish family.

It had long since passed the point where Rafe could feel much pain by their treatment of him. More than anything, he was ashamed.

What must Thalia think?

And then, he had to laugh, because however much his parents and siblings were dicks, they hadn’t locked him in his bedroom for a decade and made Rafe turn half-feral.

Yeah, TriAlpha: 0. Mom and Dad: 1.

“We wanted to get to know the new member of the family,” Jenna murmured, her tone as pleasant as she could make it which made it a few notches below catty.

“I didn’t realize you were pregnant,” Rafe murmured, before he realized how unpolitic that was of him.

Jenna’s eyes flashed with annoyance as the rest of the family gasped in pleasure. “Thanks for that, Rafe!”

“Mija!” Sara cried and waylaid her daughter to kiss her roundly on both cheeks. Before Rafe could say another word, the rest of them had hugged and congratulated her and Liam, her mate.

But when Jenna glowered at him after her belly had been patted for the final time, Rafe shook his head. He sniffed the air cautiously, aware that a conversation was going on around him, but something was wrong.

He strode forward, then halted when he felt pressure on his hand. He blinked down at it, saw it was covered by Thalia’s. When he looked into her eyes, she stared at him in concern, then when he just stared blankly at her, she didn’t relinquish his hand but moved with him.

“Something doesn’t scent right,” he said softly, grateful the kids had run off to the pool in the chaos of Jenna’s congratulations—Thalia and his nephews and nieces had been spared the courtesy of a formal introduction.

Jenna scoffed. “How would you know?”

“I’m a healer, Jenna,” he retorted, his tone as cool as he could make it. “A Pack Healer. You might only see me as your Gamma little brother, but there’s protocol that a Pack Healer has to go through to reach that level. I attained that and more. I’m more than qualified to treat you.”

“Well, I’d prefer to head into San Antonio. I like the healer there. She’s Beta.”

“Well, she’s also a fool,” Rafe snapped, irritated at the news. His sister was traveling seventy-plus miles, so she could avoid being treated by him. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Really? Is this necessary?” Jenna demanded, sounding bored. He half-expected her to start studying her nails.

“Jenna, let him see to you,” his mother said, sounding uneasy. She cast looks between him and Thalia, and he realized his mate was bristling at his sister’s treatment of him.

He squeezed her hand, and without heat, repeated, “When did you see her?”

“Four days ago,” Jenna bit off tightly, for the first time, resting her hand on her belly.

It wasn’t her first litter, and she’d always been a strong mother, but. . . .

He held out his free hand. “May I?”

“If you must,” she snapped, shifting her own away because, gods forbid, they might touch.

“I need my hand, love,” he told his mate quietly. She immediately relinquished it, but pressed close to him, as though trying to shore him up.

He was touched, and inwardly, he appreciated it, but the irony was, this was the one place he didn’t need confidence. The one time where he knew exactly what he was doing and then some.

He pressed his palms to the small crown of his sister’s stomach and immediately started shaking his head.

“You fell,” he murmured quietly. Rafe’s powers came through touch. When he pressed his hands to an injured area, when he held down tightly, he created heat.

That heat was absorbed by his patient, and with the power that was gods’ granted, it gave him several impressions.

It told him where the injury was, how it happened. If it was bad enough, there was a memory linked to it.

Spraining an ankle by falling over a kid’s rollerblade wouldn’t cause anxiety, just pain.

When anxiety was born, it seemed to sink into the muscles around the wound, creating a memory that he could read into.

It was, he realized however, the first time he’d done this since he’d met Thalia.

Something was different. Something was. . . .

Stronger?

He just wasn’t sure what exactly.

“You fell,” he repeated, this time stronger, surer. He felt his brow pucker as the muscles told their own tale. “Liam hit you. You fell down the stairs.”

Gasps sounded around them, shooting up like a symphony around him.

He wasn’t even aware of what he was saying. Not really. The information fell from his lips, but his brain was otherwise engaged on focusing the power in his hands into Jenna.

“The babies won’t survive,” he continued sadly, genuine remorse filling him, and he felt his mate’s hand on his shoulder.

She squeezed, and he felt her sorrow as well as her support.

The heat sank deeper as he felt the memory of Jenna’s sobs as she cried after her tumble down the stairs. He could see Liam begging for forgiveness, carrying her to the sofa where they stared down at the still growing bump.

“You thought because there was no blood, you’d be okay . . .,” he trailed off, then, he saw a small spark. A spark that connected with the heat he poured into Jenna.

Eyes flaring wide, he murmured, “You need to go to the hospital.”

His sister’s face was mottled with horror, sadness, and rage. He knew where the latter was aimed, not at her partner where it rightfully rested, but at him. Horror and sadness told him, however, that she believed him.

“You’re wrong,” she whispered, her words counteracting her expression.

“No. I’m right. But if you go now, they might be able to save one.” He swallowed. “You were having twins.”

Her mouth firmed. “You’re wrong.”

“No. I’m right,” he said angrily. “You’re wasting time. His life force is diminishing every moment you spend arguing with me.

Is that what you want? You can go to the clinic for a D & C,” he said, knowing the words were cutting, but vital nonetheless, “or you can go and save one of the pups.”

She swallowed thickly, and for a second, he felt sure he’d gotten through to her. “Why would I take a Gamma’s opinion into consideration?” she sneered.

“If I’m wrong, then. . . .”

“Dios mio,” Sara hissed and knocking Rafe out of the way, she grabbed a hold of Jenna’s shoulders. “Are you really going to risk both your babies’ lives out of some stupid prejudice?” She moved one hand to encompass the house behind her. “I love you, querida, but you’re a secretary. For a small-time administrator in a mid-level corporation. You’re nothing special. None of my daughters were. But my son? He made something of himself, even when he shouldn’t have. When everything was going against him.

“Look at this place. You think the humans gave him this house? You think they put the thousands of dollars into his bank account on a whim? Be sensible. Use the brain I know the gods gave you and save one of your babies.”

Jenna’s bottom lip quivered. “M-Mama, how could you say such mean things to m—”

“I can say it because I’m your mother. Just like you’d say it to Cory and Louisa if they needed to hear the truth when they were refusing to listen.

“We’re going to the clinic. You’re going to be seen to, and we’re going to save one of my grandchildren. Do you hear me?”

Jenna gulped, but her eyes remained trained on their mother. Slowly, she began to nod. Sara reached for her hand and squeezed. “We can do this. Together.”

Without looking at anyone else, without saying another word, they walked off. Rafe watched as his mother’s arm swept around Jenna’s back, and they hobbled off together, seeming more like Bahkir’s age.

The entire family watched them depart. For a second, there was silence then, almost like nothing had just happened, the hubbub of so many people in the same area built up once more.

Thalia half-turned, and Rafe knew she was looking back in astonishment at the fact his kin just went on about their business like that entire scene hadn’t gone down.

Then, he had to wince as the astonishment turned to rage.

“Wait a damn minute!” she snarled, jerking her hand away from his when he tried to reach for her. “You aren’t going to go with her?” She gaped at Rafe’s father, his sisters, as well as the mate who’d just been outed as beating Jenna—enough to kill one of the pups she was carrying. “And what about him?” she demanded, pointing to Liam who had the temerity to scowl at her.

“Mates see to their own in these parts,” Rafe’s father intoned, scooping up potato salad on his dish.

If she hadn’t been awestruck before–and not in a good way, either–Rafe knew her fury had just reached new heights.

“‘Mates see to their own’?” she repeated, and her words were so calm, Rafe understood why Mikkel strode towards them. He’d been leaning on one of the tables, hovering over a large pizza. Now? He approached them.

“Calm down, Thalia. You can’t change the world in a day.”

“No?” Thalia’s jaw flexed. “You just try and stop me.”

With that, she strode forward with all the grace of the predator she was. Mikkel made to reach for her, but Rafe grabbed his arm. “No. Leave it,” he insisted.

“She’s about to kick your brother-in-law’s ass.” Mikkel cocked a brow at him.

Sarcasm dripped from his words as he grumbled, “I hate Jenna, but you think I’d have a problem with that why?”

Mikkel blinked, his flint-blue eyes narrowing. “You have a point.” He folded his arms across his chest, then tilted his head to the side when, with the whole family watching, Thalia stalked Liam.

Rafe’s brother-in-law made a good show of it. He didn’t move even though Rafe sensed his desire to step backward, to run. A desire that only increased when she began to circle him.

“Thalia? What are you doing?” Carlos demanded, his fork lax in his hand as he watched his new daughter-in-law hunt down his favorite son-in-law.

“This piece of shit just murdered one of your grandpups,” she said coolly, but Rafe saw the sparks flaring to life around her body. It reminded him of the plane, and though it unnerved him, there wasn’t as much to fret about. Containing that kind of power on a private jet was one thing. In the middle of his backyard?

Nope, she could do whatever she wanted. Even breaking down her shift in a way that not only beggared belief but would trigger fear in the heart of every Lyken who ever saw it.

Shifts were fast.

Instantaneous.

The magic happened inside the body. Not on the out.

Thalia, once again, was unique.

“These things happen.”

Tension made her shoulders bunch. “‘These things happen’,” she repeated blankly. Then, before anyone even saw her move, Liam was suddenly on his knees. “Oops. It just happened,” she mocked.

His weight having buckled out from under him, Rafe had to wince at the sound of Liam’s kneecaps connecting with the tiled terrace.

“Fuck, that had to hurt,” Mikkel whispered, glancing at Rafe who nodded.

“I won’t be healing him,” he muttered. “Bastard can deal with the pain himself.”

Rafe realized Thalia was right. There were times when a Lyken would only recognize punishment through pain.

Before their eyes, Thalia grabbed a hold of Liam’s long black hair and, curling it about her fist, tugged his head back. She got in his face, there was no other way of describing it. Not stopping until their eyes were less than a few inches apart.

“You think it makes you a big man to beat on your mate?”

“It was an accident!” Liam rasped out.

“Like Jenna’s broken collarbone was an accident last November?” Laura scoffed, folding her arms across her chest—what the fuck? She’d known Liam beat Jenna?

Thalia’s eyes flashed, and in unison, Rafe and Mikkel winced. Rafe couldn’t even think about how insane it was that his family knew about Jenna and hadn’t done something about it.

His sisters had always sworn they’d never be treated like their mother had. . . .

“Shit,” Mikkel grumbled.

“Sweet gods,” Rafe spat, glowering at his sister even though she was focused on the tableau before her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Liam to pay for his sins, it was that Thalia’s already shaky control was being tested.

For someone as volatile as she, that never boded well for anyone in the vicinity.

Hadn’t Laura seen that in the arena? Why throw gas onto the fire?

“What about the fractured arm and the broken wrists?” another of his sisters, Susana, snarled, stepping forward, her own rage flashing across her features.

Rafe stilled. “She never came to me with those injuries,” he said softly, wounded that Jenna’s lack of faith was so inherent.

“She was probably ashamed,” Mikkel tried to comfort, and though it was awkward, Rafe appreciated that the other male tried. “She looked like a piece of work. I highly doubt she’d have liked you knowing that her mate was beating her up.”

Liam cried out in pain, and then Rafe wanted the ground to swallow him up—Louisa ran forward from out of nowhere, her small features taut with anger. “You let my papa go.” She fisted her hands at her side, practically vibrating with the combined welter of terror and fury.

Before she could do much more than let a single tear drop, Susana’s mate, David, scooped her up and hustled her off the terrace and back to the pool.

Rafe turned around, and, thankfully, saw none of the other kids had even noticed what the adults were doing. He had no idea how David would explain away what had just happened, whether it was even possible to. . . .

Thalia’s voice fell to a lethal quiet that Rafe strained to hear. Even as he started forward, wanting her to stop what she was doing, not wanting any of the pups to be a witness to this, she whispered, “I’m going to punish you, and you’re going to bear your punishment forever. And when I do it, you’re not going to let out one whimper of a sound. The pups won’t hear a goddamn thing. Do you hear me?”

When Liam didn’t reply, her hand tightened in his hair, and she yanked his head back so hard his face turned purple.

“Do. You. Hear. Me?”

“I hear you,” he said on a whimper, and Rafe found himself amazed that the strongest of the males his sisters had mated was felled by Thalia.

So utterly in her control, under her dominion that he might as well have been a Gamma.

He staggered to a halt, curious despite himself what this punishment would be.

Then, when he saw her place her teeth about his ear lobe, and bite down like she was eating a candy bar that had been left out in the sun, he flinched.

She spat out the small piece of flesh and released her hold on Liam’s hair. He staggered forward, falling flat onto his hands before his elbows gave out and he face-planted into the ground.

When Thalia peered at her new family, she murmured, calm as you like, “Mate beaters won’t be tolerated anymore.”

And like that, with all his sisters, their mates, and his father watching, Liam still writhing on the ground as he clutched his head, she strode over to the buffet table like nothing had happened, picked up a paper napkin, daintily dabbed it around her mouth to collect any stray drops of blood, and like she hadn’t just gnawed off a man’s earlobe, picked up a slice of pizza.

Mikkel shot him a look, and Rafe was astounded to see the amusement in the other male’s eyes. “She knows how to make a grand exit, doesn’t she?” he commented, his eyes on their mate’s taut ass as she strode away from the family gathering and toward the pool where David was still comforting Louisa.

He realized then, she’d picked up two slices, and bending down in front of the still-angry little girl, he heard her say in a sing-song, cheerful tone, “We were only playing. Do you want to play, too? After pizza, of course!”

Rafe gulped, turned to look at his kin, and saw they were as shell-shocked as him. Only Mikkel, annoyingly enough, didn’t seem affected. But then, Rafe figured he’d seen a lot worse overseas in his time serving for Uncle Sam.

“What the fuck?” Susana asked, sidestepping the lobe that might as well have glowed bright yellow on the terrace in front of a still-downed Liam, as she approached Rafe. “Is she fucking insane?”

Thalia’s head whipped around at that, and the growl that was torn from her throat had every Lyken in the vicinity freezing in place.

Susana, her face pinched, took a shaky step back. Rafe watched as she held up her hands in surrender and retreated to the buffet table.

He jolted in place at the low whistle that came at his side. Peering down into Laura’s still blanched features, he waited for her to speak. “You sure got yourself a catch there, Raphael.”

Mikkel snorted. “Ain’t we lucky?”

“Either that, or you’ve just leaped from the frying pan into the fire.”

Though her tone was concerned, for him, Rafe knew he’d never been safer with Thalia and Mikkel at his side. But what had just gone down?

Sweet gods.

Rafe didn’t have a single shitting clue as to how to deal with that particular clusterfuck.

Sisters. Couldn’t the gods have graced him with brothers? They were far damn easier to handle.

 

** **

Thalia

 

Thalia wrinkled her nose at the magazine in front of her, it was either read this crap or pace the length of the plane and wear out the carpet. “This is what Lyken females read?”

Rafe’s lips twitched at her disparaging tone. “Sometimes.”

“Your sister does,” she accused.

“Laura isn’t exactly interested in academic things. She’s a housewife and proud of it.”

Thalia scowled. “I can’t read it.” Not even to hide from the nerves that were threatening to eat her alive—very shortly, she’d be seeing her grandparents. The only family she truly loved, and who loved her in return.

Trouble was, what if, in the years that had parted them, they’d grown to hate her like her parents did? What if they resented her? Loathed the very earth she walked on?

They’d seemed psyched about her call, but things might be different in person, and that was what scared the shit out of her.

Feeling nauseated, she gladly focused on Mikkel when he threw an exasperated hand in the air and huffed, “Then don’t. Nobody’s making you read it.”

“I should like this shit. I’ve been out of it for so many years, this is a link. This will help me understand my people, but they’re reading crap.” While the internet hadn’t been rationed, access to the Supra Web, the secure server that was used the world over by paranormals of all creeds and breeds, had been.

The lack had cut her off in a way she hadn’t really understood until she was faced with the reading material before her.

Rafe snorted. “You won’t hear me arguing.” He reached over and pressed a kiss to her jaw. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not guaranteed to like something just because your people do.”

She bit her lip. “No, I guess not.” But she’d been looking for a connection and hadn’t found it. That sucked.

Flipping through the magazine, she winced and cringed at the various titbits of nonsense in the gossip rag.

She really understood that phrase now. It was a rag. Loaded with uninteresting shit that meant nothing, and yet, females the nation over were filling their heads with this nonsense. Didn’t they understand the ramifications of their hobby? By wasting time on this, bastards like Torres were being allowed to get away with their abuse.

If mothers around the country fought for their offspring, regardless of rank, people would have to listen. 

A sound of exasperation escaped her as she flipped through the glossy pages. “Why would I want to know who Jonny Hepple is fucking? I mean, who is Jonny Hepple anyway?”

Mikkel grunted. “Even I know who he is. He’s an actor.”

Rafe cleared his throat. “You should know him. He’s famous in the human world.”

That, Thalia was coming to realize, was how they measured success. If a Lyken was famous in that world, then they were ‘mega’ famous in their society.

“So, what’s he been in?”

“He’s a bit part player, but he plays around. Gets into fights. He’s in the papers a lot,” Mikkel remarked as he read something on his phone.

That seemed standard, too. Fame in the human world was a relative concept whereas it wasn’t in the Lyken.

“It just seems pointless. Why wouldn’t Laura want to read things that matter?”

“Because, like I said, she’s content with her place in the world.” Rafe settled his head back against the leather rest. They were back on the TriAlpha’s private jet, and were winging their way to Florida, to the private airfield beside her grandparents’ home after having spent the afternoon with Rafe’s family.

To say that she’d been relieved when Mikkel had told her it was time to leave for the flight had been an understatement. The family BBQ had been . . . interesting.

Only one sister had stood out: Laura. The rest were huge bitches Thalia hoped she’d get away with seeing only once a year. Carlos had been polite if standoffish, making Thalia question what his mate had managed to dose Carlos’s food with before she’d had to leave for the clinic.

Valium? No way too much salt would have that effect!

The situation with Liam had been regretful, but he’d think twice about hurting Jenna again. That was for damn sure, Thalia thought with no small amount of satisfaction. She’d do it again in a heartbeat, and the only thing she regretted was the pup walking into the melee.

Still, if it stopped the deadbeat father from hurting Jenna in the future, it was all to the good. She felt certain Louisa had believed her when Thalia had lied and told her she’d been playing a game with her dad.

The bastard was lucky pups had been in the vicinity, otherwise he’d have lost a damn sight more than his earlobe.

Her lips pursed at the memory of Jenna’s anger with Thalia’s mate. That was nothing to what her beast felt. Her She-Wolf wanted to tear the woman a new one while simultaneously mourning and raging the senseless loss of a niece or nephew. Even as the creature experienced the same well of rage, Thalia tried to control it and carried on reading through the trite gossip spread out before her in a glossy magazine titled InHeat—ugh, could they be any more pedestrian?

“I wish I was content like Laura is,” she said on a sigh, feeling frustrated as she swiped through the magazine, the papers whirling with the motion.

Although, what was contentment?

Jenna?

Supposedly happily mated and yet, having lost a pup and having to stay in a clinic to heal because the other pup was now high risk?

Was Carlos content? Careful of his words in case his mate took offense and poisoned him with freakin’ salt?

“Your world’s in flux,” Mikkel commented, attention still on his damn phone even as he broke into her glum thoughts. “You can’t complain about it until the shit settles.”

“You have such a way with words,” Rafe groused, glowering at him. “And if you’re going to be a part of the conversation, then you really should put your damn phone down.”

Mikkel sent them a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

He complied, with zero reluctance, but not before she saw his screen. Snorting, she asked, “Hay Day?”

“What? It’s cute.”

“It’s a game. About farming.” Thalia giggled, charmed that when she’d thought he’d been reading something super important, or talking to someone she didn’t know, he’d been playing a game. A farm game.

Ha!

“It’s relaxing. I like watching the animals. They’re funny,” he said, tugging at his collar.

“I’d have thought you’d be into shooting games.”

Mikkel rolled his eyes. “My life was a shooting game. Except, if I got shot, I didn’t jump up again because I had five more lives.”

She swallowed. “Were you shot?”

“Part of the job,” he told her dismissively.

“How many times?”

“Once or twice.”

That had her gnawing at her bottom lip.

He saw it, and sighed. “I’m okay, Thalia. Honest. Wouldn’t be here, would I, if I weren’t fighting fit?”

She guessed not. “Where?”

“Chest. Arm. Leg.” He shrugged. “Almost died a few times, but huh, seems I do have extra lives.”

His grin had her wincing. “Let’s try not to get shot in the future, though, yeah? I really don’t think I could deal with it.”

“Me, neither,” he grumbled. “It hurts.”

“Understatement of the year, I’m sure,” Rafe said wryly. “I’m quite certain the patients I’ve dug bullets out of appreciated the morphine afterward.” The leather creaked as he resettled himself in the seat, his eyes trained on Mikkel, but his question, so off topic it gave her whiplash, was aimed at the pair of them when he asked, “When are you two going to consummate the mate bond?”

Thalia flinched. “What?”

Mikkel scowled. “We barely know each other!”

Rafe snorted. “Ever used Tinder?” When Mikkel tugged at his collar again, Rafe just chuckled. “Yeah, that’s a bullshit answer if ever I heard one. You can’t put this off. Either of you.”

“It’s been two days,” she whispered, but the words weren’t really a salve for her.

“So? We’d known each other two hours.”

The truth was, Thalia was fighting the bond. Why? For Mikkel’s sake.

Just looking at him was painful. It was like really bad menstrual cramps but in a good way.

Which, she knew, made no sense. But then, her body never really had made sense.

How could something painful be pleasurable?

She guessed it was like he was teasing her, without even trying. Making her pussy clench with phantom thoughts of his cock. Making her breasts ripen and firm, the nipples turn into peaks at the idea of his mouth around them, his fingers teasing and taunting.

She studied his hands, long and lean, spatulate tips that would strum her body like the finest musical instrument. . . .

A shaky sigh escaped her, and Rafe let out a breath at the sound. “Your need is in the air, Thalia. And it’s not a need I can resolve. You have a duty to her, Mikkel.”

Her other mate winced. “Shut up.”

“It’s the truth. She’s in pain. Can’t you see?”

“She isn’t in pain. How can she be in pain?” Mikkel argued, his gaze glued to her all of a sudden, which made her cheeks turn bright-pink as a result.

Rafe’s hand, just as sleek and elegant, long and thin and so damn clever, just the knowledge of what he could do with them made her shiver, came to rest on her knee. He exerted a little amount of pressure on the joint, and she realized she’d been jiggling her foot. “Haven’t you noticed? She’s fidgeting like crazy?”

The instant he said it, Thalia tried to freeze. Tried to stop moving around, but it was impossible. She felt like fire ants were roaming over her body. Prickles of pain were left in their wake, and it only dispersed when she jiggled her foot or tapped her hands or generally kept her limbs busy.

“Maybe that’s just how she is,” Mikkel argued, like she wasn’t there. Like she wasn’t even in the damn cabin.

“No. She’s not. She’s very restful. Don’t forget, she’s a predator, Mikkel,” Rafe said earnestly, but his statement had her grunting—they were totally talking around her, but Thalia had to admit she appreciated the way Rafe was fighting on her behalf. “Predators don’t jiggle around, do they? Would you if you were under fire? No, you go still. You wait. Does she look like she could wait for a cup of coffee, never mind for you to come to terms with the fact you’re her mate?”

He grunted, picked up his phone. “This isn’t the time to talk about this.”

“No? When will be?” she asked softly, speaking directly to him for the first time.

Her words, for whatever reason, had his gaze flickering from the screen on his phone to her. They shared that look for endless seconds, then he cleared his throat. “I need to report to your grandfather.”

She blinked, utterly taken aback by his statement. “What? That’s what’s stopping you?”

“No. Processing all this is what’s stopping me,” he snapped. “Look, you’re Lykens. You always knew this shit was going to happen to you. I’m human. Just because I grew up in the Lyken world, knowing this crazy crap about mating, doesn’t mean I expected it. I didn’t. You guys did.”

“I never expected I’d have to share my mate. I never even knew if I’d be fortunate enough to find her. Just because we’re gifted one at birth, doesn’t mean we’re guaranteed to find them,” Rafe inserted gently.

Mikkel’s nostrils flared. “I know that. I’m just saying . . . you’re born with the notion that mating is a possibility. We’re not. I just need time. That’s all.”

“Don’t you feel it?” she asked, her voice whisper soft. She wanted to duck her gaze, study the grains of the wooden table separating them, but she forced herself to keep hers glued to his.

“Feel what?” he retorted, his tone rather callous.

“The bond.” Her eyes shuttered of their own volition. As she communed with her She-Wolf, she saw the links spreading from her to the pair of them. They weren’t visible, not really. They reminded her of when the day was hot and just above the tarmac, heat, though invisible, suddenly could be captured by the eye. . . . That was how this was.

It was a shaky, quivery, bumpy line of energy. And those links were getting stronger.

Rafe’s and hers pulsed with energy. It was like their heartbeat was in tune or something. Maybe it was, she didn’t know. The link with Mikkel was still tenuous, but it was growing stronger the longer she was around him.

“No,” he said on an exhale. “I don’t feel it. Not like you two do.”

“Liar,” Rafe rejoindered, and for the first time, he sounded mad.

Her eyes widened as a result, and her hand came out to clasp his. “It’s okay, Rafe.”

“No, it’s not. He’s being a dick. There’s no need for him to deny this. He can feel it. There’s no way he can’t. He’s being fucking stubborn, and in the process, he’s hurting you.”

Mikkel let out a sound that was so close to a snarl, both she and Rafe jolted in surprise at the noise coming from a human. “You’d think you’d appreciate my not touching her. She’s your fucking mate, Rafe. Why do you want my hands on her?”

“I don’t want them on her. I need them on her because that’s what she needs. It’s what she was born for, dammit. Don’t you see?”

“No. I don’t see. This is all so fucking crazy. It makes no sense.”

“When did life ever have to make sense? You’re living with one foot in and one foot out of a society that very few humans know even exists. You know the crazy is real, so why is this so hard for you to accept?”

Her throat was clogged with emotion as she whispered, “Because he doesn’t want to accept what our relationship will do to his life.”

“What? Make it better?” Rafe snickered. “Then he’s a fool.”

“No.” She jerked her chin up. “He’s a soldier. He doesn’t want to be a useless puppet. He wants to help people, he wants to do his duty . . . to his people not ours.”

Mikkel narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

She cocked a brow. “I’m not. I can just read you. I know what you are, Mikkel. You’re a soldier, through and through. But that’s okay. I need you to be exactly that. You think this path I’ve taken is going to be easy?”

“No. But you’re the Triskele. You’re the one who’s going to be fighting, dammit. While Rafe and I, and whichever sap the Mother or the gods or whoever the fuck gives out mates, stands by on the side-lines.” He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t sign up for that. I didn’t sign up to watch my woman have the shit kicked out of her . . . even if she’ll always come out on top.”

Though she stilled at his rage, she felt a flush of pleasure at his acknowledgement that she would always win.

He knew how strong she was. Recognized it in her because it was in him.

That was why they were perfect for each other.

Why the hell couldn’t he see that, dammit?

And then, the speaker made a creaking sound and the pilot declared, “Your Highness, we’re due to arrive in less than thirty minutes. If you’d like to make yourself comfortable for landing?”

The words had her blinking because it prompted her to remember something. . . . It had been two days since she’d last been on this plane. Two days. Forty-eight hours. That meant it had been that amount of time since she’d first met Mikkel.

The thought had a breath shuddering from her lungs.

Caelus, she was pressuring him.

And the pressure . . . just thinking about it made her want to hurl.

Her voice was tight with remorse as she whispered, “Mikkel, I’m so sorry.”

Taken aback, his head jerked upright, his focus sliding off his cell phone once more. “Huh? What for?”

“I’m rushing you.” She caught Rafe’s hand. “We’re rushing you.”

He scowled. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes,” she countered. “We are.” Another breath escaped her. “That was never my intention.”

Mikkel’s scowl deepened. “For God’s sake, Thalia, you’re not pressuring me. I just like to settle into things before I dive headfirst.”

“You literally described someone who likes not being pressured,” Rafe pointed out drily, and then he laughed when Mikkel flipped him the bird.

The ease between them settled her in a way Mikkel’s words hadn’t. A relationship was forming between them all. Whether Mikkel wanted to contemplate the mate bond or not, they were growing closer.

Two days ago, there had been stilted conversation between them as they sat on board. Thalia, half-raging at her grandfather’s nerve as well as dealing with the fact she’d met her second mate, Rafe just processing the fact he was no longer Thalia’s sole partner. And Mikkel? Well, he’d been shell-shocked, too.

Small wonder.

Running a hand over her hair and feeling the neat plait which was still in place, she let the two men joke and jibe each other as the plane started banking and preparing for landing.

The flight had taken barely any time at all, but maybe that was because of the comfort of being on board. They had their own stewardess, had been served a perfectly delightful dinner, and the comfort of private travel was impossible to beat, at least, that was what Rafe had assured her. And she had no doubt that for the last few years, he’d only traveled First Class, not coach.

If he thought this was better than First? Well, she knew they were being spoiled.

Still, it was her, their, right, wasn’t it? They were royalty, after all. And now, she had a purpose. A reason to justify the expense of a private jet. A reason to make her people proud, to have them love her, because she would bring justice to them. Protect them when those higher than them fell short and failed them.

“You’re such an asslicker,” Mikkel retorted, jolting Thalia from her thoughts.

Rafe laughed. “Hardly. If anything, you are. I saw you sweet mouthing my mother for more empanadas.”

“They were good shit,” Mikkel replied, totally unrepentant and making Thalia laugh at his lack of guile. “What?” he demanded, shoulders hunching. “You can’t tell me they weren’t beyond compare?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never had them before this visit.”

Both men sighed. “Your parents have a lot to answer for,” Rafe said tiredly.

“Not really. I ate well. Just none of the fun stuff.”

“I already told her we’ve got to get her on a junk food diet.”

“Let’s not kill her, Mikkel.”

“Death by chocolate, is there a better way to go?” He thought about it. “Maybe by ice cream.”

She shook her head. “If you eat all that crap, I’d like to know where you put it.”

He cocked his arm and tensed his bicep. “I burn it off, baby.”

“How? I haven’t seen you work out. Well, I’ve seen you jog.” Seen wasn’t exactly the right word, she thought, flushing. She’d taken advantage of his absence to screw Rafe’s brain out. . . .

“Course not,” he told her conversationally. “I do it at four in the morning.”

She blinked at him. “You’re awake at four AM?”

He nodded. “Standard.”

“Fuck standard.” Thalia groaned. “Oh Caelus, I think I’d die if I had to wake up at that time. Screw death by chocolate, more like death by alarm clock.”

His snort said it all. “Don’t be precious.” That wasn’t his idea of a compliment, either.

“Four AM is very early,” Rafe countered, reaching for his coffee cup and taking a sip of the last few dregs.

“Like you don’t have to wake up at that time ever. Don’t you have shifts? What about emergency surgeries?”

“I guess. But nothing regular.” Rafe huffed out a laugh. “Like Thalia, I’m not sure I’d be able to cope with such a regular timetable.”

Mikkel rolled his eyes. “Big babies.”

“Hardly!” Thalia retorted. “It’s not like I’m in bed until twelve.”

“No, just nine. That’s late.”

She blew out a raspberry. “Look, Action Man–”

Mikkel snorted out a laugh, but before he could interrupt the pilot declared, “Prepare for landing, cabin crew.”

Realizing a half hour had passed, her mouth fell shut. Mikkel blinked, too. “Huh, seems like two minutes since he was saying we were approaching Florida.”

“Probably because it felt that way.” Rafe shot them both a look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how fast time flows now.”

She tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?

“I mean, time is moving faster because we’re content.”

Mikkel grunted. “Bullshit. Time can’t move faster. It’s time. It does whatever it wants . . . namely, passes second by second.”

“You know what I mean,” Rafe answered calmly, delicately placing the porcelain cup back on the saucer with such care that it barely made a noise. “Our contentment at being close brings us nearer.”

Mikkel heaved out a deep sigh. “I’m playing my game. Tell me when he’s stopped spouting bullshit.”

Thalia couldn’t help herself: she laughed. Rafe turned to her with a gimlet eye, but she just pressed her hand to her mouth to quell the laughter. . . . When Rafe pulled a face, she reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers.

Bullshit or not, Rafe was right about one thing. They were getting closer, and she couldn’t be anything other than grateful for that fact.

 

** **

Rafe

 

Rafe eyed the palace before him in awe.

He’d seen the TriAlpha palace and had been equally awe-struck by its grand features, its opulent majesty. But this was a palace of a different variety.

This one was modern and sleek. Elegant in a way that reminded him of the Guggenheim museum in Bilbao.

It was epic and awe-inspiring.

Thalia, who stood at his side, tilted her head as she took in the same building as he did. Only, she wasn’t as impressed. He could tell. Her nose was wrinkled and her brow crumpled.

“What is it?”

He laughed. “It’s beautiful. Don’t you think?”

“No. It reminds me of my mother’s taste in art. I thought my grandparents had more class.”

Rafe chuckled. “I can see why you’d think that.” When the TriAlpha’s mate had invited him into her office, that very morning he’d met Thalia for the first time, he’d been a bit bewildered by the ornaments housed within.

Rafe loved modern architecture, was a fan of minimalism and enjoyed the sleek elegance that came as part of that style ethic. But whatever esthetic lines Thalia’s mother appreciated was a whole other ball of wax.

“You do? Don’t tell me you like it?”

“It’s like a breath of fresh air,” he said softly, meaning it, too.

The front wall was just made of glass. Reflective glass. Foot after foot of it. Curved in a way that made him think of water.

By comparison to the four story building, they, along with their limo, were merely tiny dots in its mirror image. Every ten feet or so, there was a kind of chrome shape. It reminded him of a doorknob, one that stuck out and was obviously a part of the building’s structural supports. In the hot Florida sun, it was bright and clean and so basic, that it was a marvel to behold.

“It’s a bit plain, isn’t it?” Mikkel asked, coming up beside them and leaning back against the limo. As he did, he immediately jerked upright. “Shit, that’s hot,” he complained.

Thalia snorted. “What did you think? It would be freezing? It’s high summer, doofus.”

Mikkel squinted at her. “Don’t be getting too big for your boots just because you can take a nasty Beta down.”

She snickered. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Should hope not,” he retorted, once again making Rafe wonder why the man was fighting what was flourishing between him and Thalia.

The mate bond was obviously there. Mikkel didn’t appear to be the sort of man who was comfortable with anyone until he’d known them for a long while.

Two days was hardly that, and yet, he was making jokes and felt at ease around them.

“I love it,” he breathed, staring up once more at the mirror-sheen.

“You’ve good taste, son.” The voice was surprisingly youthful as Rafe turned his head and saw one of the old TriAlphas.

He blinked. “Sir.” Bowing his head, he fell to his knees as was only proper. When a tut reached his ear, he felt his mate crouch by him, then tug him up into standing once more.

“He’s family now. You don’t have to do that,” she grumbled. When he shot her a look, she harrumphed, but he stayed standing—for her. He wanted nothing more than to stay where he’d been.

“Maybe I want acolytes for grandsons-in-law,” the older man pouted, and as he looked like his brothers, there was no way Rafe could tell which of the TriAlpha this man was.

“Well, it’s tough, because you aren’t getting one, grandfather,” Thalia retorted, then, she let out a whoop, and launched herself at the man.

Both of them laughed as he caught her then spun her in a circle.

Though the urge to bow once more was an urge that almost had him caving in, the sound of her joy stopped him. She looked so young and carefree at that moment that he was stunned and happy to see her so boisterously pleased with herself.

“Gods, it’s good to see you,” her grandfather whispered, his arms tightening about Thalia until she croaked out:

“Can’t. Breathe.”

He let go with a pout. “Spoilsport.”

She winked, then hit him back with a hug that had her grandfather choking, too. “Gotcha,” she yelled, making the old man laugh harder.

“You always were a sneak.”

“And who taught me that was the best way to be?” she demanded.

He winked. “Me.” He turned to Rafe and Mikkel who’d stayed by the limo while Thalia greeted her grandfather. “Mikkel, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too, Louis.” Mikkel bowed his head, but didn’t move.

Louis huffed at the lack of respect but didn’t comment, then he turned to Rafe and murmured, “It’s good to see the youth of today haven’t all forgotten their manners.”

Mikkel just snorted. “You’re not my TriAlpha. In fact, sir, you’re a pain in my behind.”

“Still sore at being pulled off your team?” Louis wrinkled his nose as he cut his granddaughter a look. “Truth be told, I’m surprised you greeted me with a hug and a kiss. I thought I’d be in for a battering, that’s for sure.”

Thalia grimaced at him. “If I weren’t so pleased to see you, you’d be in for worse than a battering. But as it stands, I can’t be too mad at you over it.”

“Why not?” Louis asked, his scowl saying he didn’t trust Thalia’s reasoning.

His distrust had his granddaughter laughing. “Because he’s my second mate.”

Louis blinked. “He is?”

“Yeah. I am.” Mikkel swallowed, the sound audible. Rafe wasn’t sure if that was because they were standing so close to each other, or if the noise was just too loud.

“Well, I never,” Louis said on a soft breath and started to shake his head. “The Fates work in mysterious ways. I always said that.”

“You always did,” Thalia murmured contentedly.

Louis’s nostrils flared in a gentle rhythm as he picked apart the scents in the air. “It doesn’t scent like you’re bound. Unlike this young man here.”

Rafe cleared his throat. “I’m Raphael Santiago,” he croaked out. “Your granddaughter’s first mate.”

“I figured as much, son.” He strode over to him, tugged his arm and jerked him forward into a hug. Rafe just stood there, unable to believe he was being embraced by a TriAlpha, former or not, and tried to process exactly what steps he’d taken that had brought him to this moment. . . .

It truly was bewildering.

“You look a little dazed, son.”

“Just a little,” he managed to choke out as the older man stared down at him.

“You’re not dazed, Mikkel. But you always were a rebel.”

“How am I a rebel?” Mikkel argued. “I’m only not impressed by your exalted presence because I’m used to you, Louis.”

“Too used to me,” Thalia’s grandfather groused. “No respect, that’s what it is.”

Mikkel huffed. “I’ve seen you and my stepdad together. Smoking weed. When you see shit like that, you can’t take it back.”

“Weed?” Thalia gasped. “Grandfather! Does Nanna know?”

Louis shot Mikkel a dirty look. “Was that entirely necessary?”

Mikkel’s grin said that yes, it was.

Grumbling under his breath, he turned back to his granddaughter. “I’ve known Stephen a long time,” he argued. “Back when free love was all the rage, darling. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“It’s not good for you!”

“Well, it’s certainly not going to kill me, is it?” he countered. “I’m alive and kicking and will be for a hundred years or more.”

“Intend on reaching Elder status, do you?” Mikkel asked, cocking a brow. “Bighead.”

If Louis heard the disrespectful comment, he didn’t reply to it. “Come, it’s time to go inside. Your Nanna’s waiting for you.”

“Weren’t you?” Thalia asked with a pout.

“Why do you think I was in the garden?” he retorted. “Do I look like I’ve got green thumbs?”

She snorted as she peered around the yard. “You don’t need green thumbs with this place.” Her nose crinkled again. “What’s with it, anyway?”

“Ade’s idea,” Louis said with a shrug. “Designed it himself, and only the Goddess knows why but he and Rosa love it. I think he just wants to blind everyone in a ten mile radius. I swear, at midday, we look like we’re glowing!”

Mikkel laughed at that, but Thalia asked, “You’re taking advantage of that, aren’t you?”

Louis blinked as he curled an arm around her shoulder and started to walk her toward the wall of glass.

Weird thing was, no door was visible, so it just looked like they were walking into the wall. That is, until a space appeared, black as anything. So dark in contrast to the bright light from outside that Rafe’s eyes ached a tad.

“How should we be taking advantage of it?” Louis asked.

“Solar panels, grandfather. Honestly!”

“Oh. I left that to Ade. I’d imagine so. You remember . . . he always was a conservationist.”

Thalia beamed at him. “I’m glad to hear that hasn’t changed.”

Louis bent down and bussed her temple. “Gods, it’s good to see you, Thalia. Our little conscience.”

She squeezed her arm around his waist. “Same here, grandfather.”

“Wasn’t sure if my idiots for sons would ever let us catch up before the ancestors called us home. I can rest easy now.”

That had her scowling. “Less of the resting easy.”

He chuckled. “I already told you, I don’t intend on going anywhere for the next century, but my sons are stubborn enough to wait that damn long.” His upper lip curled in a sneer. “How are they faring?”

“Well, I’d imagine. They’re probably very happy now that I’m out of the palace.”

The words contained not an ounce of self-pity, and perhaps that was why all three men cast a glance at one another, the pain they felt purely on her behalf.

She beamed up at Louis, not seeming to notice the faint interlude. “I can’t wait to see Grandpa Ade and Matthew!”

“They can’t wait to see you, either,” Louis told her as he guided them all down a hallway that belonged in some kind of futuristic spaceport.

When Rafe imagined these kinds of houses, he’d have thought they were purely hypothetical. Theoretically constructed in architectural magazines. Not actual edifices that people lived in.

And certainly not ‘people’ who had to be two hundred years old at least.

The hallway was like a runway. The floor was white, but there was a grain to the marble that all seemed to point to the depths of the corridor. The walls were paneled with a beautiful maple, and that, too, seemed to have a grain that acted as an unintentional arrow pointing south.

Overhead, the ceiling glowed a warm gold, muting the strength of the white floor.

As they all gaped at the palace’s version of a hallway, Mikkel whistled. “I’m glad I’m not the one who has to mop this floor.”

Thalia sniggered. “Me, too.”

“Me, three,” Louis inserted drily. “Ade’s idea. Only because he doesn’t have to clean the damn thing. I swear, when I saw the designs, I thought he was joking.”

“Why did you let him build it then?” Thalia asked.

“Because Rosa liked it, of course.” Louis’ tone was part grumble, but the love he felt for his mate was quite evident, too.

Rafe couldn’t blame the man if the grandmother was anything like the granddaughter.

Clearing his throat, he murmured, “What do we call you, sir?”

“Not sir, that’s for damn sure,” Louis retorted, shooting him a look as he hauled an arm over Thalia’s shoulder. “My name exists for a reason.”

Rafe winced. “I know, but–”

“No buts.” Louis cocked a brow. “How old are you anyway?”

“Fifty-eight.”

Louis’ nose crinkled. “Ah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mikkel demanded, stunning Rafe by slinging an arm over his shoulder.

“It means I’m old enough to remember when. . . .” Rafe coughed. “Louis was in power.”

Mikkel blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really. TriAlpha only ascend once they’ve borne an heir,” Louis explained, then scowling at Thalia’s second mate, retorted, “Don’t they teach you anything in school these days?”

“Not in human schools,” Mikkel sniped back, making Rafe wince at the other man’s ease with the ex-TriAlpha.

“Human schools?” Louis scowled. “You went to a Lyken school, didn’t you?”

“No.” Mikkel snorted. “I’m not Lyken, am I?”

“No, but you’re practically one. You were raised with them. Why didn’t you go to school with your siblings?”

“The school wouldn’t let me. And it was a damn pain in the ass, too. You know where mother and Stephen live,” he groused. “The Lyken school was nearer than the human school.”

Louis braked to a halt. “You mean to tell me that you were kept from attending?”

Mikkel shrugged. “Yup.”

Louis’ mouth worked. “There’s no blaming my sons on this matter. I was reigning when you were a child.”

“I guess. But I don’t really know.” He jerked a shoulder. “I had enough shit of my own to learn without learning yours, too.”

“Shame that, it would have put you in good stead,” Rafe murmured softly.

Mikkel cocked a brow. “You tell my seventeen-year-old self that. It was bad enough studying the Civil War without having to know your drama as well.”

Louis grunted. “I apologize, Mikkel.”

“What for?”

“For letting you down.”

“You didn’t let me down.” Mikkel rolled his eyes. “It must run in the family.”

“What must?” Rafe, Thalia, and Louis asked simultaneously.

“The need to overstate things and apologize for shit that doesn’t require an apology.”

“It’s called being polite and kind, Mikkel,” Rafe countered, amused at the man’s take on the situation.

Mikkel just huffed, then he squeezed Rafe’s shoulder before releasing him. “I’m a big boy. I know how to ask for an apology if one’s required.”

Louis shook his head. “Why you don’t require one now is more confusing than anything else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we shamed ourselves by letting you down, Mikkel. Just because you’re grateful you didn’t have two different sets of history classes, doesn’t make it right.”

“He’s not wrong,” Rafe pointed out gently, and Mikkel’s mouth twisted at both Louis and his words.

“Maybe he’s not wrong, but an apology isn’t going to get me enrolled in a fancy Lyken school now, is it? No point crying over spilled milk.”

“We’re fortunate you don’t hold a grudge.”

“Like you’d let me anyway,” Mikkel said wryly. “When you haul me out of my actual job, you know, fighting a war? To come and babysit someone who totally doesn’t need babysitting? I’ll assume you heard about what happened in Austin?”

Louis grimaced, but he tightened his arm about Thalia’s waist. “Couldn’t help but hear,” he said with a nod. “Not sure whether to be proud or terrified.”

Thalia laughed. “You can be proud. The terror isn’t necessary. I’m not rabid.”

“No, she just has an overdeveloped sense of justice. She’s Wolf-Girl, or some shit like that,” Mikkel grumbled as the long-ass corridor finally gave way to a door.

“Wolf-Girl?” Thalia’s nose crinkled. “What on Earth?”

“You know? Like Supergirl?”

“I need a better superhero name,” she complained. “Wolf-Girl is crap.”

Louis just laughed as he held out his free arm to pull open the door. “They’re all here, pet. Waiting for you.” As his hand closed around the doorknob, he murmured, “We’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

She shivered at Rafe’s side, and he understood why those words would have such an effect on her. Thalia’s She-Wolf had been alone a long time . . . to be welcomed back into the fold, even if she’d never been tossed out of it, not by these people here anyway, well, it had to be a powerful moment for her.

A poignant moment.

She swallowed thickly and nodded. “I can’t wait to see them.”

“Good,” Louis said, beaming, then he pushed open the door and drew the chaos to them.