Page 59 of Death Warden
“I met your mother twenty-six years ago. She was my fated mate.”
Spectre’s grip on my hand tightened. “No. How can that be? Only hellhounds can be fated mates.”
Dax shrugged. “We wondered the same. We concluded that there had to be hellhound blood somewhere. But there was no record of it, of course. It was, however, the only explanation.”
The Crescents, Thornes, and Blackmores were renowned for their bloodline snobbery. Of course they would have kept the fact that someone had procreated with a hellhound secret.
“We bonded,” Dax continued. “We were in love.” His throat bobbed. “Gods, I loved her. We were happy for six glorious months until she had her revelation.” His tone grew flat. “She found her conduit and she left me.”
Spectre sucked in a sharp breath.
Dax smiled bitterly. “Losing your fated mate, having her leave, is like having a hole torn inside your heart. A beating, festering wound that remains open until the day they die.” His smile was wry. “I should have realized she was gone when the pain in my heart ebbed, but I’d become so adept at blocking out the bond that I barely registered its absence.”
My mother left him. Left her mate. Succeeded in walking away from this need. This intense connection? From love? “I don’t get it. How could she walk away from the bond?”
“There is nothing stronger for a Blackmore necromancer than the conduit bond. Your mother fought it at first. Denied it for weeks, but she grew weaker every day. She told me the conduit calling was like a clawing inside her, a constant burning ache. In the end I made her go. I made her leave. I couldn’t see her torn apart like that. She loved me still, but the conduit bond was stronger than our mate bond, and it will be the same for you once your revelation happens. You’ll leave, and my son will be broken.”
Spectre held my hand tighter. “You’re saying that there’s a time limit on us.”
“Yes.” Dax’s eyes were sad. “Could be days, weeks, months, even years, we just don’t know. But it will happen. You’ll lose her.”
I wanted to argue. To say that I’d never leave, but how could I? How could I promise something I knew deep down I may not have control over? And even if I could promise it, I wasn’t sure that was what I wanted. I had a life outside of Frostgate. I’d only been here a couple of days.
I wasn’t ready for this kind of commitment, but I’d made it regardless by bonding to Spectre, and now I risked hurting him when my revelation came because I would have to find my conduit. He was essential to keeping Dralos at bay. A necromancer’s conduit was a part of her, a link to the ether, to the mystical power that flowed through her blood. The power that was her life force.
“I’m sorry.” I looked up at Spectre. “You tried to keep me at bay. You tried to prevent the bond from forming and I…I should have thought about the conduit, about who I was, and now…” Guilt gnawed at me. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
His expression shuttered. “You won’t. We’ve formed a bond but we’re not in love yet. What we feel is mystical and physical.”
He was right. Hope replaced the guilt. This bond could be managed. It had to be. “So, we keep a distance.”
Dax snorted, his lips curling in a humorless smile. “You think it’s that easy? You’ve forged a powerful connection because you are physiologically and mystically perfect for one another and love is merely a formality. You can’t run from it.”
“We can try,” Spectre said.
But Dax’s attention was on me. “Your mother came back twice. Like I said, she never stopped loving me. Our bond remained, but she needed her conduit to survive, and that…that’s an altogether different connection.” He stood and pushed the chair aside. “I hope for both your sakes that your revelation comes soon, because the longer you remain in close proximity, the harder it’ll be when you’re forced apart.” He opened the door. “Adi, you should go and get some sleep. You’ll have full work assignments tomorrow.”
I stood and Spectre made to stand with me.
“Not you,” Dax said. “You’ll stay here. We need to talk.”
I left the office with a heavy heart and a ball of grief in my chest too volatile to make sense.
I barely knew my mate. How could this feel so fucking awful? I needed Finley. I needed my best friend back asap.
* * *
CURO
Dax takes a swig of his beer, his expression taut, the kind he gets when he’s had bad news. We’re in his private quarters on the third floor, minimally decorated rooms sporting bare floorboards. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been invited in here, and each time it’s been to receive orders on a take-down or news about a hit on another MC that we need to rally around to prevent.
An invite here means bad news. I need to know what the deal is, but I know better than to rush the prez.
I need a fucking shower. The redhead is all over me, and now that I’ve scratched my itch, I can’t wait to wash her scent off. It’ll have to wait, though, because when the prez calls, you come.
There’s a knock on the door and Logan enters.
Color me intrigued.
