Page 32 of Bonds of Fate

The Rhodes’s betrayal of their only child is vile, and it’s only made worse by Hayes’s evil deeds. The vast creativity of those deeds is something Nix has had to lock down tightly in that box in his mind. He unequivocally cannot spare a single thought for the particular details—not now, and maybe not ever.

“What should we do, Gray? He’s hurting, and I—I can’t stand to see him like this.” The ache in his chest flares, sharp and relentless, and he instinctively presses a hand to it.

Grayson just hugs him from behind and turns his nose into his neck, cheeks damp with his tears. His normally sweet basil scent is burnt around the edges as they watch their mate tear his grief from the heavy bag. “I’m sorry for both of you, Angel. So sorry.”

According to the clock on the wall, it takes Jamie less than ten minutes to reduce the heavy bag to nothing but sawdust and shredded leather, its chain swaying uselessly from the ceiling.

Still, his rage crackles in the air, a storm unchecked.

With bloodied hands dusted in sawdust, he braces against the wreckage, his heaving breaths broken by rage-filled roars.

“Jamie. It’s done. Come back to me.”

Red eyes locked onto his, burning with fury and pain. Jamie shakes his head, voice ragged.

“My parents. I fucking hate them, Nix. It’s burning in my chest, and I can’t get it out.”

He digs his claws into his skin—desperate to tear the pain away, to make it stop.

Before he can sink too deep, Nix grips his hand, steady and unyielding.

“No. They’re not worth that. I’m here now. I’m never leaving you, and you’re never leaving me. We won anyway.”

His wolf howls, mourning all the lost time, all the pain—but Nix refuses to let them steal a single second more.

His beloved mate stares unblinking at him, but the claws retreat, and he’s pulled into Jamie’s heaving chest. For just a moment, Nix lets himself feel the fervent longing for this comfort that he’d felt nine years ago, five years ago, ten minutes ago.

It feeds the bone-deep desire to connect to Jamie in every and all ways.

Leaning back, Nix wipes a few bits of sawdust off his lips with his thumb, and he goes up on his toes for a soft kiss. He thinks he’ll need at least an entire afternoon in the sun, making out with Jamie, to appreciate all the ways he can kiss, and it still won’t be enough.

“Love you, Jamie.”

“Love you too, baby.” Jamie holds a hurt hand out to their other silent mate, who comes close enough to kiss Jamie’s cheek and run a hand through sweaty hair.

After a few moments, Grayson speaks up. “Jaybird, let’s clean you up. Jump into the shower for a second, rinse off, and I’ll grab you something to wear. Then we can get those hands cleaned up.”

Nix is grateful to Grayson for his calm reassurances—an anchor after the storm of emotions.

Jamie nods with a shaky breath and makes for the small shower room in the corner of the gym to strip off his sweats.

Nix holds his breath to marvel at the man that is Jamie Rhodes. He is stunning: broad shoulders, that stunning bird tattoo, eight-pack, and an ass that they write sonnets about; well, maybe songs, at least. Maybe Luca would help.

“You are even more beautiful than the boy I knew. Did I ever tell you that I saw you naked once at the beach house that first week?” Nix leans against the wall so he can see his showering mate and still watch for Grayson’s return. He rubs his chest where he can feel them; different, but the same.

When the water is steaming, Jamie rinses off the sawdust, and the still freely flowing blood on his hands turns the water pink as it swirls down the drain. “Really? No. When was that?” His breathing is calmer, but Nix can see the tremor in his muscles.

“Funny story. Ha.” Nix wonders why he chose this embarrassing story, but they were happier times, and he’ll not let their villains take that from them, too. “You’d been surfing with Ivy in the beginning. Remember? I had gone up to your room to see if I could just lie on your bed.” Blush blooming hot in his face, he’s committed to making his love smile, so he can’t stop now.

He hands his mate a towel from the rack outside the shower door, and when it’s wrapped around his waist—a pity—he continues. “I liked the way you smelled. You told me yesterday I smelled like vanilla back then; well, I remembered when I was in the bath earlier that you used to smell faintly of building supplies.”

“Smelled likewhat?” There’s a chuckle from the door, and Grayson hands their alpha a pair of sleep pants, then leans on the door frame with his arms crossed, smile firmly in place.

“What did I know of trees or scents? I wasn’t a Were, and kids my age smelled like body odor, not forests. I remembered that we used to have a class in school where we could learnwoodworking, baking, you know, other life skills. Have you ever taken anything like that?”

Jamie nods and smiles at the memory. “Burned my fair share of cookies in those days.”

“You mean like now?” Grayson gets a faux kick in his direction.

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