Page 104 of Bonds of Fate

Grayson still can’t look at him—he hasn’t said a word. The wolf stirs, low and dangerous, claws itching to swipe at their pack alpha.

Depressing distractions aside—howdarehe even consider throwing their Angel into the ring to face the worst of his demons?

So Grayson walks away toward the skin care, focusing his intent on face masks and moisturizers, cleansers, and toners, leaving his normally beloved alpha trailing in his wake, deep into his self-recriminations.

“Grayson. Stop.”

Jay takes the basket from him, showing him it’sfullof all the things Nix hasn’t had for five years, or maybe even ever.

Grayson admits that no one needs four different cleansers—it’s not like the cleansers can wash away the horrors, or the fear, or today’s fucking debacle.

“Jay, give me the basket. I need to do this, and I need you not to be here while I do it.”

“Grayson. Let me–”

“Not. Right. Now.” It’s growled out, low and mean.

Jay’s nostrils flare, and it absolutely is a warning from one enigma to another.

Grayson wonders what his alpha would have done if he’d punctuated each word with a finger to the chest.

Ulta Beauty and Jay Rhodes’ celebrity reputation wouldn’t likely have recovered. It’s not a challenge, really, but it is a request for respect and distance.

Grayson is fortunate that he has always been understood by his mate.

Instead, Jay hands over the basket and leaves his hands where Grayson can see them, but the scent of sharp pine resin overflows the narrow aisle way. “I’ll meet you outside. Take your time.”

Watching his alpha leave gives him a bit of a conflicting pang in his chest, and Grayson rolls his eyes.

You can’t have it fucking both ways, you dumbass.

But he supposes that’s where the conflict lies: he can be madly in loveandmad as hell. It’s the price you pay to love intensely.

In the end, he buys everything in the basket and two reusable bags to carry it all home. He’s calmer, and when he meets his mate outside—leaning against the building in exactly the same spot he’d crouched an hour before—the urge to bury his teeth and claws in vulnerable skin is all but gone.

“Here. Carry this.”

Jay holds out a hand for both bags, but Grayson only hands over one. “No. In this family, we share the load. But youcanbuy me ice cream. Let’s go.”

Jay’s smile is hopeful, and Grayson sighs. Jay is so quick to forgive, even if sometimes Grayson wishes he weren’t.

They order ice cream—vanilla for them both—and when they take their first bite, they groan loudly. It’s simultaneous, and they both chuckle.

Hoisting the bags, they turn toward home. Grayson could call a ride share, but the walk will give them time to finish their treat—and to talk.

“Grayson, I am sorry.”Ah, so quick to forgive, but not to forget.

“For what? For encouraging this lunacy? Sure. Do that. Then you can tell him you’ve changed your mind.” It’s all he can do to throw the rest of his ice cream cone into the nearest receptacle and not at the nearest wall.

Jay does the same and stops him with a hand on his arm. “No, for not talking to you before I did anything.”

That’s a surprise. Grayson isn’t Jay’s first stop for counsel. That usually falls to Gideon or sometimes even to Finn or Leo. “What?”

“Look, Leo told me about the star charts and the soulmates. If they’re to be believed—”

Grayson growls at the mere suggestion that it could be in question.Ifthey’re to be believed? There’s noif.

“It’s real,” he says, voice steady but firm. “I read it, and Iknew.But truthfully? I knew the minute I scented him—even as a human.”

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