Page 57 of Threads of Fate

Thanks to his mates, Jay doesn’t barrel over Antonio’s assistant in his rush. It’s Leo who slows him just enough with a firm grip on his arm, grounding him before he can charge ahead.The elevator is already waiting when they reach it—Grayson, ever thoughtful, had slipped out past Leo’s subtle delay to call it up in advance.

By the time they step out onto the street, a taxi is idling at the curb, courtesy of Finn’s quick thinking, knowing instinctively that waiting for the valet wouldn’t be fast enough for Gideon—not if someone they loved was in trouble.

Even Rowan, one of the few others in their pack who could drive, waves them on with a reassuring nod, ready to take Gideon’s Escalade to the hospital at a slower pace. Every piece of their coordinated effort clicks into place, a seamless reminder of the bond that holds them together.

Jay is so grateful for them all.

Jay and Gideon pull their jackets off in the taxi but leave their scent patches on. There’s danger in filling the small car with alpha-stress pheromones, and they don’t want to end up in the river or wrapped around a utility pole. The drive seems so long, with the traffic moving at a glacial pace. It makes his wolf want to jump out and run the rest of the way.

His Nix is awake, and he’s going to get to see his beautiful smile and hear his deep voice say, “Hello, Jamie.” Jay cannot remember a time when he has been so excited.

When the taxi pulls up in front of the hospital, Jay doesn’t wait for the elevator; the hospital is way too busy for that, so he and Gideon take the stairs two at a time up to the pediatric floor. Parents are pulling small children back into the safety of their rooms as the two alphas thunder past.

The security guard is standing outside Nix’s room, looking harried with the door closed tight. A nurse is standing outside, looking pissed and laying into a security guard.

“Mr. Rhodes.” It must be the nurse who had called him earlier. “I’m sorry, a parent called security.”

The head of the security unit also looks flustered. Jay wants to push him out of the way and fling open the door, but the guard puts his hand out and stops a mere inch from touching his shoulder.

Good thing, too, as Gideon is still on high alert, always running interference. A warning growl makes the beta visibly flinch.

“Mr. Rhodes, your two betas are in the room, and one is—well, he’s feral. We understand he can’t be tranquilized, given his medical condition”—he glares at Greg—“but he has your other beta held hostage.”

Without another thought for the security guard, Jay presses a hand to the door. The scent of blood and burnt cookies seeps out from underneath, stinging his nose and fueling the overwhelming need to ensure both Nix and Luca are alright.

Then Jay hears it: “Don’t! Don’t want you!” The shout is a clear warning, even if the words themselves aren’t, and Jay is surprised to hear a bit of “push” behind it. But he recognizes that voice and his heart beats faster.

Removing his scent patch and opening the collar of his shirt so Nix will be able to smell him, he takes a deep breath to calm himself, inhaling deeply to get Nix’s scent to the back of his throat.

He slips in, and Gideon pulls the door almost closed, leaving it open a sliver just in case Jay needs him. Jay gets one look at his Sunshine: blue light shimmers from Nix’s glowing eyes, casting sharp shadows across his blood-streaked face. His lips curl back into a feral snarl, revealing fangs that glint in the dim room. Tiny hands, now tipped with lethal, glinting claws clutch what appears to be a torn black t-shirt. Every line of his body vibrates with fury, his posture one of pure, defensive instinct, daring anyone to come closer.

Jay’s breath catches. Despite the ferocity, or maybe because of it, Nix is breathtaking—wild, untamed, andJay’s.The instinct to reach out, to soothe, is almost unbearable. Words seem inadequate, but one escapes him, soft and steady, carrying every ounce of love and reassurance he can offer.

“Nix.”

Chapter Twenty-Three: Nix

Nix

Nix wakes up in bits and pieces.

At first, it’s the sounds of the beeping machines that filter in through the haze, and then it’s the pain. He’s used to that, but it’s still a lot, and he slides away again. Nix is relieved he doesn’t have time to worry about Dawson.

Then he hears the voices of people around him, calling him by name and telling him about thepinchesandpulls,aboutstingsand machines that hum and grind around him. But it’s the voices that sing and cry, the voices that hum and whisper; the voices that tell him how much they miss him, how much they love him, and it’s those voices that make him want to open his eyes.

And then there are the smells. Nix thinks someone is burning cookies over a wood fire, and the wood is snap-snap-snapping so loudly in his head. He smells tart berries and spicy Christmas drinks that he remembers from when he was a child. He smells a hot chocolate-y drink on a rainy, thundering day. His favorite might be the scent ofgreenfresh from the garden, sun-baked and warm, and he thinks that if he could just open his eyes, he could see for himself what—orwho—smells so good.

***

Nix finally comes back to himself in the afternoon. He can tell by the warm light on the back of his eyelids. It smellslike someone is drinking a mocha latte nearby, and Nix is glad because Dawson has never liked chocolate, so it can’t be him. The person is so warm, and every shift and wiggle sends little zings of happiness up Nix’s spine. It feels so good that he needs to open his eyes.

Weirdly, he’s not scared, because Nix has spent the last five years afraid.

He’s lying in a hospital. He can tell that for certain, just from the press-board tiles in the ceiling above him and the familiar scent of antiseptic burning his nose. There’s a soft t-shirt close to his face and something wooly on the top of his head. They smell strongly of fresh basil and a tart fruit Nix can’t recall, but his mouth waters.

There’s an action show flashing brightly on a tablet propped up on the person’s chest—but it’s angled so that Nix can see, too. He slams his eyelids down in defense, his tummy roiling as his senses come online and bombard him with input: the sound of the heartbeat of the person in bed with him, the other scents on blankets piled haphazardly over and around the two of them, loud footsteps not too far away, and soft beeps of machines and voices.

Taking a deep breath, he tries again and opens his eyes. The show on the tablet is nothing he recognizes, but Dawson never lets him watch any series or movies, so Nix is unsurprised.

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