Page 59 of Alastair
More silence.
“Okay…” Galen shifted his weight, body tensing. “I’m going to need you to explain.”
So I did. I told them how Lazarus had placed a warding on his soul to block our bond and kept it secret for all these years. I explained how that warding faltered when my worry over his life prompted my own feelings to surface. The intensity of it had been stronger than the seal, causing a fracture.
“You know…” Castor fiddled with his lip piercing. “It actually makes sense. Kind of. Lazzy Boy is a class A asshole, but lately, he seems to have a soft spot for you.”
Bellamy nodded. “When we were in Scotland fighting Belphegor and Asa, remember when Asa aimed Light Bringer at your neck? I’ve never seen Laz look so afraid. I wrote it off as him just wanting to keep us all alive because of our power, but now? I think he was scared shitless of losing you.”
Warm prickles stabbed at my chest.
“This is my shocked face,” Daman said with no expression at all. “Did I know you two were mates? No. But like Cas said, it makes sense.”
“And don’t forget,” Bellamy added, “Laz is the one who placed the warding around our mansion in Echo Bay to hide our location. Guarantee it was to shield us from the angels who wanted us dead.”
I’d forgotten about that. But after hearing Lazarus confess that he cared about us, it was just another step he’d taken to protect us over the years.
“Honestly?” Daman slouched against Bellamy. “Lazarus is a prickly bastard, but he helped save my life. I’ll never forget that. He’s the reason War and I are still together.”
Gray worried his bottom lip and hugged Kallias’ arm tighter. “I don’t like the thought of you being with him.”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
“But.” Gray released Kallias and bounced over to me, grabbing my hand. “If I can forgive Phoenix for almost killing Mason… I can forgive Laz for being a big meanie.”
“Yeah,” Raiden said. “We all understand how it is when you find your mate. I’m not gonna judge you if you go for it. I just want ya to be happy, Al. Fuck knows you deserve it.”
“What are you going to do?” Galen asked me. “Refusing a fated mate is hard but not impossible, depending on the strength of your connection. It sounds like this seal is still in place. You can ignore it.”
“Is that your way of saying you don’t approve?”
“Has my approval or lack thereof ever stopped you from doing anything before?” Galen touched his wedding band, slowly turning it on his finger. “But.” His gray eyes met mine. “When I was struggling between my duty as a warrior and my love for Simon, you’re the one who told me the world had taken enough from us. That it was time I be selfish and take something for myself. So that’s my advice to you. Damn what I think. Damn what any of us think. Let this decision be yours.”
“The decisionisn’tmine,” I said, feeling a hollowing in my chest. “Lazarus sealed our bond because he was ordered to. Me knowing the truth doesn’t change that.”
We couldn’t be together even if I wanted us to be. Which I didn’t.
Did I?
That question haunted me long after I said good night to my brothers and returned to Baxter’s villa. I sat in bed, reading a mystery novel by lamplight, but my wandering thoughts prevented me from absorbing any of the text. After rereading the same paragraph five times and still not knowing what the hell it had been trying to say, I shut the book, set it on the nightstand, and turned out the light.
And as I closed my eyes, I swore I could still smell a hint of winter and apples. The scent was ingrained in my memory, like a beloved story long after the turning of the last page.
***
Shouting echoed from the courtyard. I placed my cup of tea down and stood from the table to look outside.
The early morning light cast golden beams on the branches of the trees, leaving others still in shadow as the sun made its ascension in the sky. I couldn’t see the courtyard from the angle, but as the shouting intensified, I dashed outside to check it out. Typically, I’d assume my brothers were getting into it, but the only ones awake were Gray and Raiden—the former was cuddled in bed upstairs with his mate, and the latter was across the island, probably cooking breakfast for his husband and chosen son.
“Are you mad?” Lazarus exclaimed as I rounded the corner. He stood in front of Penemuel, with Michael to his left.
“All writers are a little mad,” Penemuel answered, adjusting his glasses. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and a vest over it, the collar unbuttoned. “Yet, that madness often begets brilliance.”
“You think this is brilliance?” Lazarus snarled. “Corrupting human minds?”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Lazarus’ head snapped toward me, and the venom in his eyes died a bit. The rising sun caught on the white strands of his hair and gleamed off his creamy skin. His injury was no longer bandaged, and the scar left from Light Bringer sat above his collarbone, curving to the top of his shoulder. He wore no shirt, and gods help me, I couldn’t stop my wandering gaze as it moved along his muscled torso.
