Page 96 of Bonds of Fate

Leo takes the stairs two at a time and comes to a halt when he finds Nix on the floor, propped up against the balcony wall, his grand exit having led nowhere fast. Leo thinks for a second that they should put a bench there for as much lurking gets done these days.

“Hey, Nix.”

He can’t ask if their omega is okay—because that would be a waste of breath. No one is fucking okay.

He’d obviously overheard the discussion, and Leo isn’t surprised when he meets his eyes, probably trying to read where he stands on the issue.

That’s the thing. He’d been sure it was their job to protect Nix, and that included the hardest parts of life, but hearing Luca talk about choices and how Nix has the right to his own agency makes Leo feel a niggling shame.

Would he deny Grayson, Rowan, or even Luca the right to choose? Would he expect the same considerations forhimself?

“I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

It’s whispered. Small. The only real sliver of negative emotion Nix has let slip after fighting for his life.

And fuck, that’s what hits the hardest.

That their mate—their mate—has been untethered. And while they’ve been so caught up in finally beingthemthat they never even thought about it.

The one thing each of them treasures—the solitude and autonomy of their own space, a place to breathe, to justbe—and Nix hasn’t known that luxury for five years.

And that?

That is shameful.

“Come on.” Leo holds out his hand—and hopes, against hope, that Nix will take it.

And then, with no hesitation, Nix’s fingers close around his.

There’s trust in his eyes—trust Leo hopes to earn, to deserve.

He hauls him gently to his feet, offering a small, reassuring squeeze. “Let me show you something.”

He glances around. “Did anyone even give you a tour?” A softtsk tskescapes before he can stop it, aimed entirely at himself.

At his tiny shake, Leo leads him down the hall all the way to the end. The bedrooms run along the backside of the floor facing the backyard and gardens, and the hall along the right the front. There are windows gently illuminating the hall, and the late afternoon sun doesn’t reach this side of the east-facing dwelling.

When they’re almost at the far end, he points. “That’s the rut room, but no one really uses it. But here, this is for you. We should have done it right away, and I’m so sorry.”

The room is smaller than the others’ spaces, but it has warm wood floors, a double bed, and a small desk beside a floor-to-ceiling window framed with bookshelves. Grayson had decorated it with guests in mind—Rowan’s mom visits three or four times a year and stays in here. It’s geared toward the “impersonal welcoming aesthetic,” as Grayson refers to it.

Nix stands just outside the door. Hesitant.

“You want me to stay in here?”

It’s whispered—uncertain—and in an instant, his vanilla scent curdles into burnt cookies.

Leo’s stomach twists. “You don’t like it?” He keeps his voice soft and careful. “We can change anything you want. Grayson decorated it like this for guests, but it should reflectyou.Do you want to look at some stuff right now? We can order whatever you want.”

Nix tilts his head, and for the first time, his voice shakes—just slightly.

“You’re not locking me in here because I said…” He waves vaguely toward the hall, unable to finish the sentence.

And then, just as quickly, he forces out a dry little laugh.

“Oh. That’s good, then, ha. At least it’s nicer than the closet was, that’s for sure.”

His mate’s joke falls flat, and Leo’s ass hits the edge of the bed as he slides to the floor.

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