Page 118 of Bonds of Fate

He doesn’t want to lie to Finn, either, but Nix feels like he’s been asked that question so often that he should always be fine even when he isn’t.

And he really isn’t.

“I’m shaken, but I’ll be fine. I am suddenly exhausted, though.” Nix gives his clingy mates a nudge and then rises to his feet to finally get a look at his mattress and blankets. “Oh, fuck me. Shit, I promised to keep them nice and look! I’ve ruined the whole thing.”

The bloody sheets had been torn to shreds in some places, as had the duvet—the fine filler was sprinkled like snow over the remains of the mattress and the floor. He’s just noticed that Gideon, Luca, and Jamie are covered, too.

Wait.

Taking both hands, Nix shakes them through his hair, and he’s surrounded by a cloud of white fluff. Shit. Now, he needs both another showeranda new place to sleep.

“Come on, baby, let’s go shower in my room, and then we can all sleep in the nest. You coming, Gideon?” Luca grabs Nix’s hand and just pulls him along toward his room next door.

“Night! Love you!” Nix yells as he’s hauled out the door.

Nix just hears Rowan bellowing, “Hey! Maybe he wants to shower in my room. Hey! Bring him back here!”

Chapter Twenty-Four: Jay

Jay

Rewind.

Jay loved music.

One of Jay’s earliest memories was of a teacher playing the guitar in his kindergarten classroom. He’d rushed home, begging to learn. It had taken a lot to beard the lion in his den, sitting through his father’s misogynistic slurs about how strong alphas weren’t artists; they were athletes or academics.

Never mind that the music industry was built on the leadership of a hundred artistic alpha Weres.

So, yeah, he’d been surprised to be allowed to play, and fuck, had it come easily. After guitar, he picked up piano, then drums—his music teachers encouraging him while his parents remained indifferent. But when Mrs. Dewitt, his freshman-year drama teacher, asked him to audition forHairspray, something shifted.

The role cracked open a new kind of hunger in Jamie’s soul.

And because it fed his soul, he threw himself into it with a joy and patience he rarely had for other things—like training at his father’s boxing club or the academics his mother preferred. Oh, Jamie loved sports—his alpha was strong, his temper fierce.

More importantly, it kept his father off his back. If there were trophies on the shelf, there were fewer insults about how “fruity” Jamie’s music was.

Mrs. Dewitt had seen real potential in fourteen-year-old Jamie Rhodes. She knew he wouldn’t get to live his dream if he stayed where he was. The highly regarded music-focused program at their high school was his shot.

His mother had been easy to convince—the promise of prestige, money, and social clout got her on board.

Jamie nailed his audition, though his mother would later take credit for all the years of “effort” she’d put in. She bragged that it was her genes, her sacrifices, that made it all possible.

Jamie had stopped worrying about his mother’s narcissism long before that. He was in the best music program in Florida, doing what he loved, finally looking toward a future without his parents’ control.

When Ripley Records held an open-call audition at the end of his junior year for a music reality show that would result in a reality show that promised a coveted internship, Jay performed an original song. He hadn’t expected much—but a few months later, he was the only one out of 800 students in Florida who got accepted.

It should have been a dream come true, but by the time he got the results, he had a new dream.

One with freckles and a raspy voice, and who lit him up in every way it is possible to feel for another person.

It was the hardest decision he’d ever had to make to leave Florida and Nix, but he had put his faith in Ripley Records—faith that they would give him the skills to live a life where he could provide for his mate. The music industry could do that.

It was incredible, and eventually, even through his grief, he absorbed everything he could, improved his skills, and met Leo and Luca. Tried to live a life Nix would have been proud of.

Jay would never say so, but Long Road Home’s rise to fame had not been a surprise to him. Is it egotistical? Probably. Is he right? Abso-fucking-lutely. Does he let it make him an asshole?Fuck, no. The industry has too many of those already, and without the receipts to back them up.

Still, for as much as he loves creating and performing music, Jay hates the bureaucratic fuckery. Hates the spin-doctoring required to keep humans unaware of the Were influence on their music and hates even more the requisite image-making.

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