Page 116 of Between Imminent Fates

“We’re going to spoil you.” One of her eyebrows rose in challenge. “Sit.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Unable to deny his mate, Isaiah sighed in relief as he took a seat. No one noticed, far too focused on preparing whatever food was already in the kitchen.

Each of them threw grins his way, their elation at his return bubbling over. But this—this domesticity, the camaraderie they shared, the joy he sensed in their clan bonds with him … Isaiah couldn’t help but let it flood him.

He had known his death was inevitable, months before he ever stepped onto that field. He’d prepared for and accepted it. He’d said goodbye to the life he’d lived and the mate he loved. He’d steeled himself against his son having a future he wouldn’t be a part of.

Getting it all back was nearly more than he could bear.

His vision blurred as he watched the people he loved most bustle around preparing food. Rukia noticed the tears that slowly tracked down his cheeks.

“Fates, Isaiah, what’s wrong?”

Rukia came close, her hands gently cupping his cheeks and searching his eyes. Immediately, his mate covered him protectively, blocking out the room around him.

Through their mating bond, he felt her uncertainty and shock. In fact, all movement had stopped in the kitchen, his people hesitating at Isaiah’s turmoil.

“Baby?”

Isaiah pulled himself together through sheer will alone, and when he finally looked at Rukia once more, he was softly smiling. He didn’t bother to hide the tears pooled beneath his chin, nor the happiness that paired with it.

“I never expected to wake up, Rukia. This is a gift.”

But his mate didn’t let him go, her features twisting as she fought back tears of her own. “Don’t go sentimental on me now, Sparky.”

Isaiah laughed through his tears. The breath that his lieutenants had been holding was let out, and the tension that simmered in their bonds slowly ebbed. Assured that he was alright, the sounds of chatter and cooking once more filled the air.

In no time at all, a considerable feast was spread out before him. When every single member of his entourage looked at him expectantly, he merely raised an eyebrow.

“If you think I’m eating alone, you’re very much mistaken. Eat with me.”

By the time he’d had his fill, the lethargic weight of his limbs had lessened, and the hollow well in his gut seemed to fill. While his physical state had improved, Isaiah knew there was a long road back to health. From the research he’d done, no one had returned from the level of psychic trauma he’d experienced.

He’d never been keener to start a journey.

The sound of Isaak’s voice from upstairs made Isaiah perk. Gripping Rukia’s hand, he hesitated, unsure that he’d be able to teleport them into his son’s bedroom. Fortunately—he didn’t have to. Derikles’ psychic energy wrapped around both him and Rukia, the other man aiding him like the loyal brother he was.

As soon as Isaak saw his father, his eyes widened, and he squealed.

“Daddy!”

Isaiah leapt forward and knelt beside the small bed, swaddled his son in his arms and held the wiggling nearly two-year-old close. Little hands wrapped around his neck while the sounds of Isaak’s giggle made him grin like a lunatic. Emotion thickened his throat, making it impossible for him to speak, and Rukia draped her arms around them both.

Overcome, he breathed in the familiar scent of home and family, cherishing every second of their reunion and locking it away in his memory. From the soothing scent of his mate to the boisterous energy of his toddler, he was happiness personified.

Sooner than Isaiah was ready to loosen his grip, the toddler was squirming to get out of his arms. “Daddy, down!”

Only the thought of their shared future made Isaiah capable of ceding to his son’s demand. And even then, once Isaak’s was released from his embrace, it took all of his willpower to resist snuggling him close once more. Rukia, sensing his turmoil, gently squeezed his hand.

“We’re not leaving, Isaiah,” she promised. “We’re here, babe, and nothing is going to change that.”

Tugging her close, Isaiah sighed. “I owe you an explanation.”

“Yes,” came Rukia’s dreamy response, then a more resolute, “Yes, you do. Isaak can play in the living room while we speak with the others, and you can explain what happened.”

Isaak scrambled down the stairs to the main floor, his parents slowly trailing. Once more, his knees threatened to give out on him, the joints loose and foreign with each step down. Though his legs quivered by the time he stepped onto the main floor, he pushed past the weakness.

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