Page 57 of Fool Moon First Aid

This shared space of minds is a double-edged sword, however, because although it offers an unparalleled intimacy, it also exposes us to the vulnerabilities of being physically unguarded. A hunter could easily take advantage of our divided attention, but Ethan and Tyler are within the safety of the station, surrounded by spiritkin.

“All right, Ava,” I say, our voices melding into an echo that resonates with the essence of all three of us. “Repeat what you just told me.”

Her reaction is immediate, a mixture of astonishment and discomfort. “That’s creepy as hell. What just happened?” Her eyes, wide and reflecting a storm of emotions, search mine for answers.

“Aww, butterfly, we just couldn’t stand to miss out,” Tyler teases through our collective voice. His words, meant to be playful, are followed by air kisses.

“No more speaking. It’s unsettling,” she insists, a shiver cascading through her as she places a finger to my lips. It’s a gesture meant to silence, but instead, it sends a ripple of warmth through us. “I really can’t deal with this…whatever it is.”

I ease Tyler and Ethan’s presence back, letting my own voice emerge clearer. “At twenty-seven, a spiritkin has the right to choose their own path, beyond any destiny the moon might dictate,” I explain, trying to blend wisdom with the simplicity she needs right now.

Her brows knit together, a shadow of skepticism and concern dancing across her features. “But why the Castellons? I want no part in their schemes, and my father… Pushing me towards them feels like a betrayal.”

Her father knows something we don’t. My thought drift through our bond.

Ethan’s cautionary voice tempers our rising frustration. Don’t jump to conclusions.

He’s right. We’re navigating blind, making guesses on incomplete information, much like Ava. We can’t just assume her father knows about our mating rules. He can’t possibly know we wait until that age for a fated mate, then after we are free to mate who we want.

“I don’t have the answers,” she admits, setting her coffee aside as if to distance herself from the conversation’s weight.

Something nags at the back of my mind. “By twenty-seven,” I muse, the significance of this age not at all lost on me, “if we were meant to find our fated, surely it would have happened by now.”

She catches on quickly. “You’re all older than that, and we’ve only just met.”

Ethan’s discomfort is a tangible presence in our connection. That’s not entirely accurate, he finally admits, reluctance shading his tone.

Tyler jumps at the chance to tease. Oh, keeping secrets, big brother? That’s hardly alpha behavior, he teases, pushing Ethan’s buttons as only a brother can.

We’ll circle back to that, I interject, steering the conversation back on course. To Ava, I say, “It isn’t foolproof,” though in the realm of spiritkin, it nearly is.

Ethan’s confession slips out, a whispered memory between thoughts. I met her when I was ten. We can talk about it later. The silence that follows is heavy with unspoken questions.

“Human connections are vital to spiritkin growth,” I explain to Ava, drawing her attention back. “Any human mate we’re destined to be with is identified before they turn thirty.”

“You think my father knows this?” Ava’s skepticism is palpable, her disbelief a cloak wrapping tightly around her. “He’s clueless about your world.”

I sense her growing irritation rising. Pushing her will only drive her away, I caution Ethan and Tyler silently.

She isn’t meeting with her father or Elijah, Ethan decides, his alpha authority bleeding into the command.

For once, I’m with him, Tyler concedes in a rare moment of agreement.

But we can’t just forbid her, I counter, wary of the delicate balance between protection and control. That approach could push her further away. We’ll find another way.

She isn’t going, Ethan reiterates, his finality echoing in our minds before he withdraws, leaving the conversation with a sense of unresolved tension.

I’ll talk to him, Tyler offers, his presence fading, leaving me to navigate the silence of my own thoughts again.

Turning my attention back to Ava, I opt for a gentler approach. “You should rest,” I suggest, resisting the urge to probe further into her thoughts.

“I can’t,” she protests, setting her coffee cup aside with a sigh. “I feel disgusting. I need to wash my hair,” she confesses, even as a yawn reveals her fatigue, her body sinking deeper into the comfort of the mattress.

After placing the tray on a side table, I turn back to find Ava’s wild brown hair cascading across the pillow like a dark halo, inviting and soft. Before I can stop myself, I run my fingers through her hair, marveling at its silkiness. “Sleep. After your nap, I’ll help you clean up,” I tell her, feeling a blush warm my cheeks at the thought of seeing her naked.

“Promise?” she murmurs, another yawn cutting her off. Her eyes flutter shut, signaling her surrender to sleep.

Seizing the moment, I lean down and brush a kiss across her forehead. She turns her face up toward me in response, a small sigh escaping her as she drifts into a deep sleep. I watch her, ensuring her breathing evens out before I turn to grab my laptop.

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