Chapter Twelve

Iris

 

Since that first morning in Kal’s house, the question I kept asking myself wasn’t one I would have expected. Not, Why are you still here, Iris? Or, What the hell is wrong with him?

No.

It was, Should I have gone after him?

I hadn’t seen Kal since our first morning together, six days ago. I wasn’t even sure if he was sleeping in his own house. It was then I’d seen what Laia and the others had been alluding to. Understood why Kal had the reputation he had.

He was unfamiliar. That ice-cold, callous, and hard-bitten man, with an uncompromising jawline and distant gray eyes.

Yet that question persisted from the one flash I’d seen as Kal had turned away.

A raw agony, as though it were killing him to be like this.

Six days later, though, I had my doubts about what I’d seen. Wasn’t his absence proof he’d meant every word?

Saving you was a fluke in my character, Iris. That’s why you’re stuck with me—because I made a bizarre mistake. Won’t happen again.

Those words cut deep. No matter what I did, I couldn’t forget them. It was like they were still echoing through the air and splashed across the walls.

Since that day, I couldn’t quite relax when in Kal’s house. At that moment, it had gone from a staying in a home to living in a museum or a military barracks. I always put the pillows back in exactly the same spot and cleaned up after myself. I didn’t want to take up any more space than I already had.

Kal had left no room for anything but himself, so why would he be happy I was in his house?

But more than those words was the memory of Kal’s indifferent and cold face. Together, they flavored everything with a sharp humiliation, one that dug into my skin and stayed there, no matter what I did or where I went.

During those six awful days, I’d berated myself around the clock for letting myself think that Kal had become a friend. That he cared about me and wanted me to stay here. Now I knew he was too busy and important. His suggestion for me to stay in Winfyre had been nothing but cold pragmatism.

And that should have been that.

I mean, hadn’t he made it clear that Winfyre was his top priority from day one?

Yet I still caught my breath with the pain of losing him. Or rather, the idea of him. The resulting bruise crept up over my heart, worsening with each day I didn’t see him. Because underneath it all, I missed him. I couldn’t help but think back on those small, warm moments we’d shared on the journey here.

Or had I imagined all of those, too?

Perhaps Kal had picked up on that. He probably didn’t want me getting any ideas while we ran around and pretended to be mates. If so, it was a wonder he wasn’t more pissed off.

The only time the ache lessened was when I was with the ladies of Winfyre. It was a relief to be with people who knew my secret and didn’t hold it against me. There, I could forget for a bit, as I played with Eliot and Luna, or held the sleepy, sweet little baby Caleb, or listened to their happy, harmless gossip about the territory.

However, I wasn’t much of an actress, and, more than once, the ladies had also pressed me about Kal. Yesterday, when I’d let something slip about their not having to worry about it because I hadn’t even seen him, Laia’s lips had gone into a flat line that didn’t bode well for anyone. Reagan and Sierra had looked downright alarmed, glancing at each other in shock.

Later, Fallon had stopped by, and I’d watched Laia pull her aside. The look on Fallon’s face had been downright scary. She’d scowled so darkly, I’d winced.

I hadn’t meant to get Kal into trouble. Once again, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

Figuring it was probably not a bad idea to keep to myself today, I stuck around the house and read. I’d heard nothing from the Coven or anyone else about Orion’s book. It itched at me constantly. In another day or so, I was going to make my own way to Veda to satisfy that itch. Nor could I exactly ask the ladies because I assumed they probably didn’t know or would be confused as to why I didn’t know. Xander had implied that Kal would be giving me updates.

Curled up in the window seat on the back wall of the living room, I rested the paperback on my knees and looked out into the uncertain light of the rapidly fading autumn afternoon.

I hated being so idle. Even though the other packs had driven me a bit crazy from time to time with meaningless work, at least I'd always had something to do. Here, I was waiting on Kal to deign to give me some of his time. A flare of anger went up my spine, then crumpled into ashes just as quickly. What was I supposed to do? Complain? He’d saved my life and let me live in his house.

“Reading anything good?”

I startled so badly, the book slammed to the floor, and I nearly went with it. Scrambling upright, I watched as a woman with silver braids walked across the room and sat down across from me, pulling her feet up. She was absolutely stunning. Lovely, sharp features, flawless dark skin, forest green eyes, and a blinding smile.

“Sorry, I was told you were expecting me.” She rolled her eyes. “Should have known that message wouldn’t have gotten passed along.”

I nodded and tried to place this goddess. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t grasp it. However, I did recognize her outfit. All Corinna couture. A simple shawl, straight gray pants, and knee-high socks.

“And you don’t even know who I am. Lovely.” She sighed and gestured at herself. “Beylore.”

“Hi, I’m Iris,” I said, realizing I’d been gaping at her and hadn’t said a word. “Although you probably already knew that.” My mind was whirring. Beylore. Beylore. Why do I feel like I should know that name?

“I’m the head of the Coven,” she said and extended a hand with several silver rings. I took it, and we shook, as I tried to get my shock and giddiness in check. “Oh, you’ve got a way with words and translations. A Riftborn detective, as it were, with empathic traits. Fascinating.”

“Uh, that’s a nice way to put it,” I said and hunched my shoulders, in awe. Beylore could get all that from a simple handshake? “Honestly, it’s not much use.”

“On the contrary,” Beylore said, and her eyes sparkled. “It’s never been put to the right use or the right task. I think this one will prove your mettle, though. Certain Riftborns need the right circumstances to fully flower.” She paused and tipped her head to the side. “And Kal is your mate.”

Flushing under her studied glance, I nodded. It was the first time someone had outright asked. It seemed this Beylore was not privy to the fake mate gambit.

“How’s he taking it?” Beylore laughed, and a weak smile flickered over my face. Silently, I prayed I could pull this off. “I bet he’s fighting it so hard and making it so much worse for himself. He can’t do anything the easy way. But then, he really has deluded himself into thinking he can lock his heart away—like life won’t keep trying to hand him a key.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but my own heart was being tugged on sharply. “Why did he try to lock his heart away?” I asked without thinking. “His dad?”

Beylore’s lips parted. “He told you about that?”

“Yes,” I said. “Although, it was kind of a strange night, though.”

“He was friends with my husband for almost their entire lives, and Kal barely mentioned it once. Rett was the one who had to…” Beylore glanced out the window and shook her head. “Never mind. Times like this, I really wish he was still with us. He would’ve been so happy to meet you.”

“Your husband—he…?” I asked, and she shook her head. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Beylore looked at me, and there was a deep sadness to her young face, a heartbreak that I could feel cutting into my bones. “He died not long after the Rift.” A shaky breath exuded out of her. “Sometimes it still doesn’t feel real.”

“I understand,” I murmured and gently touched her hand.

“Oh my, you are perfect for Kal,” Beylore said. “Perfect. Here I am, minutes into meeting you and unburdening my soul.” She gave me a small smile. “Warm and open, with a fire to contrast the ice bear’s bite. And you’ve had more than your fair share of tragedies, too.”

“Oh, no, it’s…” I trailed off, not quite sure what to say to that. I couldn’t disagree.

But wait, how had she known that? What kind of Riftborn was this woman?

“Anyway,” Beylore said and stretched out her hands, “I’m so happy for you and Kal. Although, I’m sure it won’t be easy at first. You’re gonna have to knock some sense into him. Fight for it a bit. But once you crack that ice bear, he is never going to let you go.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said in a high voice and bit my cheek. “Sure.”

Lying to Beylore left me with a bitter and hollow feeling. Here was a young widow, happy to congratulate others on their love, and I was sitting here, accepting it. This was wrong.

She laughed softly. “That fool, thinking he can avoid it by avoiding you.”

“Um, Beylore,” I started to say, but a door banged open, and there were voices in the hall. A second later, Xander, Luke, Reagan, and Fallon walked in. I scrambled up. “Hello.”

“Lor, you’re here,” Xander said, stopping and staring at her. “And hello, Iris.”

Blinking, I suddenly realized why Beylore looked so familiar. She looked a bit like Xander. Were they related? I wanted to ask, but Kal emerged from the foyer, and my mind went blank.

“Kal,” I said, springing up and flying across the living room before I could think. Any other feelings I might’ve had about seeing him for the first time in days were swallowed by a rush of fear and horror. “What happened?”

Kal’s face and jaw were bruised purple, a gash over his eye was bleeding, and his lip was split. Grimacing, he avoided my eyes, and a sharp stake of pressure burst behind them.

I went to draw back, but I caught the end of what Xander was saying to me, and I forced myself to pay attention. “Went off and chased down a lone band of Vorths on the border. Didn’t realize the Excris had split up and surrounded him until a bit too late. Nor would the stubborn ass let us take him to see Rogda after we got there in time to pull them off of him.”

“He went alone?” I asked, turning to Luke and Xander, who both rolled their eyes. Fallon looked furious. “You went alone?” My voice shook. “I thought you were over being reckless.”

Oh, I hadn’t meant to say that with such venom. Kal winced and looked away.

“Maybe he’d like to change it up and be a Llary instead of a Deacon,” Beylore said slyly.

Kal muttered something I didn’t catch and turned to go upstairs. I caught his arm, suddenly not giving a damn what he thought about me. “Kal, you need to see a healer.”

“I’m fine,” he ground out. This was the first thing he says to me? I could’ve clawed his eyes out at that moment. “I’m a grown-ass man, and I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

With that, he clattered upstairs and banged closed a door. Spots swam in front of my eyes, and I realized I was clenching my fists in absolute fury.

“I’ll start making dinner, I guess,” Fallon said into the silence.

“Let me help,” Reagan said, and Luke followed.

Turning, I saw Beylore and Xander talking. No one was paying attention to me. For a moment, I hesitated, then I rushed up the stairs and down the hall.

Something inside of me was telling me I needed to be up here, an instinct tugging at me and making me reckless. Or perhaps brave.

The bathroom door was closed, and I could hear cursing coming from inside. I thought of Beylore’s sad gaze, his friends’ worried and annoyed ones, and Fallon’s resignation.

Sometimes when you knew someone well enough, you let them do things over and over again without realizing how harmful it was. Or out of fear of hitting the wrong nerve. Or simply because you were used to it. It wasn’t maliciousness, but a bit of a blind spot that came with close contact. Or maybe none of them thought that Kal would let them help.

There was a good chance that Kal might not let me help. But I decided to use Beylore’s presence to my advantage. I took a deep breath and drummed my fingers on the door.

Immediately, the sounds inside stopped. “What?”

“You need a healer.”

“Iris?” Kal sounded incredulous and a bit pissed.

“Yes, it’s me,” I said and took a deep gulp of air. “I’m coming in.”

“What—no.”

Too late: I was inside, and my hand went to my mouth. Kal’s side was mottled purple, and there were bleeding lacerations across his muscled back. A gouge by his shoulder looked particularly gory.

“Why can’t you see a damn healer?” I demanded.

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Some bumps and bruises.” His glare didn’t stop me as I went to the sink and got a towel, running it under the hot water. “Uh, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m helping my mate.” I tried to sound as cool and collected as he did when he wasn’t being impossible. “Beylore thinks we’re the real deal. This is where I should be.” I marched over, and Kal backed away. “Hell, even if I wasn’t your mate, you need—”

“I don’t need anything.” His chest heaved. “Especially not from you.”

Bristling, I kept coming and snapped, “You haven’t even gotten your shirt off, Kal,” I said, nodding at the sodden piece of fabric around his neck. He reached up and tore it in two, throwing the pieces to the sides of the room. “Wow.”

“Leave.”

“Stay still.”

We stared at each other. I couldn’t believe those words had come out of my mouth, but with Kal standing there, bleeding and beaten to within an inch of his life, I couldn’t look the other way. Even though that was exactly what he wanted, what his eyes were begging for. He hated my concern.

Something about that struck me as strange, but I couldn’t think about it now.

“Iris, I swear—” Kal began.

“The sooner you stop acting like an idiot, the sooner I’ll be gone,” I interrupted, my mother’s fierceness rising up. Was it my imagination, or did Kal’s lips twitch? “Now, turn around and sit on that bench, please.”

Again, I had a sense of disconnect. Had I really just said that?

And, even more surprising, was Kal listening?

I watched as he moved stiffly, slowly, over to the bench and sat. Everything about him was rigid, from the hunched line of his shoulders to his hands gripping his knees and the slant of his mouth. In fact, he turned away, staring at the wall as I moved in.

“Cleanser and salve are on the counter,” he muttered, and I swiped them.

“I’ve never seen a Vorth,” I said conversationally as I set to work on his back. As I cleaned and dabbed salve all over him, I noticed both containers were getting low. “Let me guess—do they have horns?”

“Horns, claws, scales, fangs, you name it,” Kal said after a moment. “And they’re big.”

There were a million things running through my mind and trying to escape out my mouth.

Thought you said you weren’t a hero, and yet you went plunging into stupid danger.

Instead, I said, in a quiet and detached voice, “You’re almost out of this stuff.”

Then I paused and stared at it, my hands shaking and eyes blurring. It took me a few moments to realize what was wrong, and the realization was dizzying.

It was almost empty because Kal did this all the time. Treated himself instead of going to the healer. He was that stubborn when it came to accepting help. Or admitting weakness, I guess.

“Iris.” I took a deep breath and looked up, shaking myself. Kal was glancing over his shoulder at me and frowning. “Are you okay? Is it the blood?”

“No,” I said softly, and this time I was avoiding his gaze.

It’s you, you stubborn, impossible ass.

Because I’d realized that in addition to not wanting to ask for help or appear weak, Kal absolutely did not want to make room for anyone in his life. He wanted to be as alone as possible.

And that meant, the more time that passed, the more Kal would devolve into that hard-bitten loner instead of the nice, reserved man who’d saved a silly girl.

“Iris.”

“Hey, you have to stay still,” I said lightly and went back to work, trying to ignore the tremble in my hands. “Come on, I know you’re at least pretty good at that.”

This time I did get a loose, rough chuckle from Kal. His big shoulders flexed slightly as I deftly cleaned his cuts, trying not to notice the sheer bulk and strength of him under the blood and grime. Or the layers of crisscrossed scars. Unlike the rest of his pack, he had no tattoos, except for one line of script running up the inside of his forearm.

A week or so ago, I would’ve asked him why. Or at least about the one he had.

But the silence between us was too big and held its breath, as though waiting for the moment when something snapped. The bruise on my heart was acting up again.

Missed you, I wanted to say. Only Kal didn’t want that.

“This is nothing,” Kal growled and glanced back at me. “Don’t look so worried.”

I forced myself to smile and nod. “I know. I know you can handle anything.”

Doesn’t mean you have to.

“Not everything.” Kal’s voice was so low, I almost thought I’d imagined it, but he turned and patted my leg. "Thanks, Iris. I've got it from here."

I twisted the towel in my hands. “You sure?”

This was the closest I’d been to Kal in days, and the first time I’d ever been able to look down at him. From this angle, I could see the silver starburst around his iris, the light that came and went that revealed him as a shifter. Water droplets clung to his scruff, and my fingers tingled to imagine what it would be like to—

Whoa, I thought, and heat rose in my face. Something further exacerbated by the fact that Kal and I hadn’t broken eye contact. Nor had he answered my question.

He was probably spacing out on me. I’d forgotten up till now he sometimes had done that on the way to Winfyre. The remembrance sent a sharp ache through me.

“Did you say something?” He blinked and gripped his neck. “Sorry.”

“No,” I lied. Then I noticed the cut over his eye was starting to bleed again, and, without thinking, I pressed the towel to it. My other fingers skimmed his jaw, tilting his face up to mine. “Well, you’re bleeding, but you already knew that.”

I thought Kal would pull away or bark at me. Instead, his eyes closed, and he seemed to lean into me. Only the slightest bit, so it was hard to say whether it was happening or not. His scruff was soft and damp against my palm. Warm breath caressed my wrist, and my heart began to pound.

Deep down, I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. That I was only making things harder for myself. That I was on a one-way street to heartache. That none of this was real.

The sooner this is over, the better.

I went to pull away when Kal gently circled his hands around my knees, his fingers brushing against the backs of my thighs. I realized I was standing between his legs, his calves pressing into the sides of mine, and then his thumb began to circle the inside of my knee.

“Thank you,” Kal murmured, and a sigh of breath tickled my arm.

At that moment, I realized that the skin I was touching was starting to burn under my fingertips. “Kal,” I said in alarm and dropped the rag, pressing the back of my hand to his forehead. Heat seemed to pulse from his skin. The instinct that had brought me up here flared again, and a tremble raced through me. “Kal, I think you’re burning up.”

He shook his head, but he was sagging a little, and his breathing was uneven. “Iris.”

“Kal, something’s wrong with you,” I said and shook him. Terror clawed through me when he didn’t respond. “Are you listening to me? Kal!”