Page 46 of Randall
Darvon squeezed Randall’s shoulder. “Can you help?”
Randall nodded. “He’s dehydrated and low on blood. He must have fed Marius. I can infuse some power into them, enough to give them energy to eat and drink. Their bodies will repair themselves once they have significant sustenance.”
Baron had his arm around Marius’ waist, propping him up as they entered. He insisted on being placed between his mates on the bed. Jarrah and Quinn curled toward him the moment he was situated.
“Please,” Marius implored, gazing at Randall. “Do what you said. Give them whatever you can so they can heal. I can wait.”
A parade of servants entered, bringing platters of food, wine, water to drink and wash, and linens for cleaning. “Is there anything else, Your Highness?”
Valter shook his head and thanked the seneschal as he escorted him out and then closed the door. He tucked himself under Baron’s arm as Darvon and Duke made up plates of food and brought them to the bed, each knowing what their family liked.
Darvon had missed whatever Randall did, but by the time he came back to the bed, Jarrah was sitting up and had a flush ofcolor in his normally pale cheeks. “Here. Plenty of fruit, but you need to eat the meat, too. Marius needs you at full strength.”
Jarrah grabbed Darvon’s arm before he could pull away. “Thank you, brother.”
Darvon gave him a tight-lipped grin and nod, then stepped back and pulled a wide-eyed Flynn into his arms. His little mate was shaking, so Darvon pressed Flynn’s face against his chest, allowing him to hide. Randall joined them after ensuring both Jarrah and Quinn were well enough on their own. With Baron and Artor hovering, and Baron’s sons squashed together on the small couch, Darvon felt safe. Being in Randall’s arms also helped.
He’d never know why Fate chose such a powerful mage for him, because he didn’t believe it could just be the presence of evil permeating the land. Maybe it was, but Lore always said that from the moment of birth, one’s fate and destiny were decided. He wondered if he’d missed out on someone else, or if Fate had really said, “Nope, you have to wait three hundred years to meet the one meant for you.”
He’d never know the truth, and so he shrugged, content to focus on the ones in front of him, in his arms, in his heart, and marked on his body.
Chapter 32
Flynn
Exhaustion crept in slow waves, swallowing Flynn’s attempt to keep his eyes open. So much had happened in so short a time that his mind and body couldn’t keep up anymore. On the verge of collapsing, his knees weakened, and he might have fallen if Darvon hadn’t pulled them together.
Randall tucked in against his back, cocooning Flynn in the warmth of his taller mates. He laid his head against Darvon’s chest, listening to his mate’s heartthump, thump, thumpin a steady, soothing rhythm. One caressed his neck and hair; the other swept their hands along his sides and back.
“We’re taking Flynn back to our room. He’s nearly asleep on his feet.”
Randall’s whispered words washed over Flynn, allowing him to close his eyes, knowing his mates would care for him.
“Your mate, brother?” the Fae on the bed asked. Darvon’s brother... Jarrah, though he barely looked like what Flynn recalled from when Jarrah had last visited his clan over a yearago. The travel and whatever had happened to him had taken quite a toll on the Prince of the Fae. “You found him.”
“Yes,” Darvon answered, his voice a low murmur. “Flynn is a cat shifter. His village, the Fisher Clan, was destroyed by the demons.”
“I’m happy for you. And you, Randall.” Jarrah’s gaze swept past Flynn’s mates to focus on him. “And you, Flynn.”
Flynn felt Randall’s chest move as he mumbled something, but mostly he was enjoying feeling like he was floating. At least this time he wasn’t cold and wet.
Fires bloomed all around him. Intense heat nearly suffocated him. The vampires ran by him at such speeds they seemed to appear and disappear with how fast they moved.
Randall stood still, one arm raised. His other hand was buried in Darvon’s braided hair as he knelt at his feet. “Flynn,” Randall called.
“Flynn,” Darvon beckoned, pointing to the other side of Randall.
What did they need him to do? He didn’t have magick like they did. He wasn’t strong like Timur, the wolf shifters, or the vampires.
“We need you,” they said in unison.
He took a step forward, then stopped, still unsure. Screams ripped through the air, frightening him. Flynn wanted to run far, far away… but his mates… His mates needed him. He couldn’t abandon them.
“Hurry,” they shouted as a ball of flame shot toward them.
“No!” he screamed, leaping into the path of the spell, his body twisting in pain…
He awoke, shaking, wrapped in his mates’ arms. It was dark… so dark…
