Page 52 of Visions of You
"No. Could you show me to Keegan's room?"
"I would," Mordyn said, "but that's not where he is."
Jaron's heart sank. Did Keegan leave? Was he trying to avoid Jaron again?
Had Jaron pushed too hard last time?
Mordyn turned around and motioned for Jaron to follow him down the stairs.
So Keegan hadn't left the building. That was good, right?
"Where are you taking me?"
Mordyn grinned and held a finger to his lips as if he wanted to tell Jaron to be quiet.
Jaron wasn't sure what that was about, but he shut up and followed Mordyn down another corridor. At the end of it, Mordyn carefully opened a door that led into a room that resembled a small library. He nodded to Jaron, and then he left.
Jaron spotted Keegan hunched over a book, dead to the world, the scarf Jaron had given him still wrapped around his shoulders. The vampire's chest rose and fell with the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. He must have worked himself into exhaustion until his body had finally given out.
Jaron approached slowly, trying not to startle Keegan now that he was finally getting some rest. He pulled out a chair next to Keegan and sat down, taking a moment to just observe his mate. Keegan's hair fell over his face, obscuring his features, but even in sleep, his brows were wrinkled.
"If only you didn't think you had to tackle everything by yourself," Jaron whispered, not loud enough to wake the vampire.
This might not be the most restful break for him, but at least it was something.
It wasn't fair, really, how much weight Keegan had to carry just because he could see what others couldn't.
Jaron used to dream of being powerful when he was small, so that people would stop making fun of him, but maybe great power wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Maybe Keegan had gotten both their share.
Jaron's gaze drifted to the books stacked next to his vampire, all about the various workings of fate. There was a piece of paper under Keegan's right hand as well, with a few almost unintelligible words scribbled on it. Jaron leaned closer, trying to make out what Keegan had written before sleep had claimed him.
It looked as if Keegan had stopped mid-writing, just after the words, 'fate demands sacrifice.'
A cold shiver went down Jaron's spine.
What was that supposed to mean?
What kind of sacrifice was fate demanding of Keegan? Of them?
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Keegan's face, tucking it behind his ear, tempted to demand an answer from his mate. Keegan stirred slightly at the touch but didn't wake.
Jaron's heart clenched. He wished he could take away whatever burden Keegan was carrying, whatever vision was haunting him.
"Can't you live in the present with me?" he whispered, his fingers tracing the edge of the blue scarf he'd given Keegan the day before.
Keegan blinked one sleepy eye open. "Jaron?" He yawned.
Jaron hesitated. Part of him wanted to tell his mate to go back to sleep, to get the rest he so obviously needed. But another part of him couldn't ignore the ominous words scrawled on the paper beneath Keegan's hand.
"Keegan, what's this about?" Jaron asked softly, tapping the note. "What do you mean, 'fate demands sacrifice?'"
Keegan shook his head as if trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep from his mind. He sat up straighter, rubbing at his eyes. "I've been trying to find a way to change what I saw. Our fate."
Everything inside of Jaron drew tight. "And?" he made himself ask.
Keegan met his gaze, his expression grim. "It can't be done without sacrifice."
