Page 31 of Visions of You
Vitra even winked at him as he walked by. "Nice catch," she said.
"Thank you!" Jaron shot back, not minding at all.
"C'mon," Keegan said. "My room is this way."
CHAPTER 8
As soon as they entered, Keegan's room, Jaron made a beeline for Keegan's desk and picked up the empty bottle of blood that sat on top of it.
"You did drink my blood!" he exclaimed, whirling around to face Keegan with a smile that made Keegan want to undress him and cover his body with his own.
Keegan held himself back, however. "I did," he admitted, doing his best to keep his expression neutral in spite of the fact that he had the object of his desire in his bedroom.
"So you know," Jaron said with a triumphant glow in his warm eyes. "Did you like it?"
Keegan suppressed a sigh, hating that he was going to have to disappoint Jaron. He had liked the blood, and it had made him see wonderful things… but it hadn't changed how things were going to end between them.
He sat on his bed and looked at Jaron. "I have seen things," he said, "that make all of this complicated."
"Complicated how?" Jaron's brows knitted together in confusion.
Keegan wasn't sure how to tell him—or how much to tell him. He had spent most of the day trying to decide. Spilling too much about the future to other people always carried a certain risk.
"I can't tell you," he said.
"You've got to tell me something," Jaron insisted. "That's why you asked me to come here." He paused, thinking. "So bad shit is going to happen if we get together? Is that what you're saying? Why you're being so resistant?" He looked miserable at the idea, and Keegan's heart ached at the sight of his mate in distress.
Already, the instinct to take care of Jaron, to protect him from harm, was strong. Ridiculously so.
It was because of all those visions he'd had—as if he'd lived through their entire life together in the span of one night.
How strange was it, to be guided by memories of things that hadn't even happened yet?
"Sit with me," Keegan said, patting the empty space beside him.
Jaron didn't hesitate.
No surprise there.
He didn't leave any space between them either, and Keegan didn't make himself inch away from the shifter. He didn't want to.
Instead, he rested his hand on top of Jaron's, meeting the dragon's gaze. "Not everything I saw was bad," he said, hoping the notion might console Jaron. "In fact, most of it wasn't bad."
"How much did you see?"
Keegan glanced at the empty bottle on his desk. He wanted to be truthful with Jaron, at least as far as that was possible. "After I drank your blood, the visions just kept coming, kind of like an avalanche. I saw the two of us living together. Different versions of our future, but all of them were happy."
Jaron listened closely. "But then why…?"
Keegan closed his eyes for a beat. "I've been aware of the bad thing for a lot longer. It was the very first vision I ever had." That alone should signify its importance. "It's not just bad." He looked at Jaron. "It's catastrophic. It would destroy you and me both."
That was all the detail he could give. He hoped it would be enough, that Jaron would believe him.
Jaron's brow furrowed, his grip tightening on Keegan's hand. "It was only a vision, though. There's no guarantee it'll come to pass. I've looked into it. Divination isn't an exact science."
Normally, Keegan would have had to agree.
But this one vision… it was different from the others. Keegan saw no way around it—and he'd looked for years. "If you believe that you and I are fated, you must believe that someeventsare fated to happen as well."
