Page 107 of Spark of Sorcery
Behind me, my bond brothers stop too.
“What now, man?” Dray asks, bouncing on his toes.
“My wrists,” I say, staring at them in disbelief. Am I imagining this? There’s blood and mud splattered across my face. I can taste it. Black spots dance in front of my eyes. Are these the aftereffects of battle? Am I hallucinating?
I rub my gloved fingers over my wrists to see if the faint marks will rub away. They don’t, although they fade a little as I pull the skin taut.
“Are you hurt?” Beaufort asks.
I drag my gaze from my wrist and to my two bond brothers, staring at them open-mouthed. Then I thrust my hands forward.
Dray leaps behind Beaufort. Then, seeing I’m not about to attack him, shakes his body out.
“Shit, man.”
Beaufort studies my face and then my wrists. His silver eyes widen with wonderment.
“I was fucking right,” he says, yanking back his own sleeves, examining the skin, rubbing his fingers against his flesh aggressively. “Nothing,” he hisses. “What the fuck?”
“Dray?” I ask.
He rolls up his sleeve. “Nothing,” he says with obvious disappointment. “In the vision,” he asks Beaufort, “did we all have–”
“Yes,” he snarls. “It was all of us. She belongs to us all.”
I gaze down at my wrist. Then why me? Why would I be the first one to show the fated mate sign? The one fated mate who can not touch her.
I drop my hand back down to my side and trudge back to the barracks.
Dray is rambling on again.
“This means you were right.”
“Of course, I’m fucking right,” Beaufort says. “The visions have never been wrong. And I know what I saw. Did you actually doubt me?”
Dray chuckles. “Of course, I fucking doubted you, Beau. She’s from Slate. She has no powers, no influence, no money and no friends. She isn’t the girl I imagined would be our mate.”
“It is not for us to question the designs of fate,” Beaufort says, quoting the old saying.
“Yeah, and anyway, the first time I fucking caught her scent, I knew you were right.” I can hear him bouncing on his toes. “Maybe all fate wants for us is to make a hell of a lot of babies with her. Fuck,” he shakes out his body again, “I want to pump her full of my seed.”
“Seriously, this shit again?” Beaufort says. “The full moon was three and a half weeks ago.”
“You don’t find that hot?”
“What, diapers and screaming and sleepless nights? No, that is not fucking hot. Not at all.”
Dray’s silent after that and we’re all lost in our thoughts.
I’m with Beaufort. Why would I want a kid I couldn’t even hold in my arms?
Fate has other plans for us, I’m certain of that. The stone, the dragon, the girl. They must mean something.
Then again maybe fate is a fickle bitch who wants to make our lives as difficult as possible.
Because I can’t imagine either Dray or Beaufort’s families will welcome our mate with open arms.
Especially Beaufort’s.
