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“I have no idea. I wasn’t about to pry for more details when Nora was so upset.”

“So why do you think it has anything to do with me?”

Elias’s laugh has no humor in it. “Please, don’t patronize me. Of course it has to do with you. Tell me what the hell happened.”

Briefly, in halting sentences and scant details, I tell him about Harrison and what went down on Friday. His veiled threats to Kenna and the Bureau. What followed when I had no choice but to shift and take her somewhere, though I leave out most of the finer points about what happened when we got there.

“Fuck,” Elias breathes. “I’ve seen your dragon when he loses his shit. You could have killed her.”

The very idea of that is so abhorrent I can’t stop the low, threatening growl that slips into my next words. “Never. I would never hurt her.”

In the history of my friendship with Elias, there’s always been an imbalance of power between us. Perhaps because of the discrepancy in our ages, or because his own nature has always been gentler, more flexible, understanding, while I’ve had free rein to be a domineering prick.

But now, when I snap at him, he doesn’t flinch. He just keeps studying me with an expression on his face that looks almost like pity. Or—perhaps more likely—empathy, but whatever it is, I don’t have time for it right now.

I open my mouth to speak again, and he cuts me off.

“And it’s been like that since you met her, hasn’t it? That instinct.”

Knowing precisely where he’s headed with this, I give my head a swift shake. “None of that means anyth—”

“Oh, really?” Elias says, getting angry now. “Do you hear yourself, Blair? You can’t leave this woman alone. You’re drawn to her beyond reason or sense. You lose your damn mind when she’s threatened or in danger. What the hell do you think that is, if not a mate bond?”

“I already had—”

“You never bonded with Lizzy,” Elias says, and though his tone has lost its edge of anger, it’s no less firm. “I know what she meant to you, and I know how much you still grieve her. And perhaps at one time she truly was meant to be your mate, but why would that mean Kenna isn’t?”

Unable to summon a spoken reply or meet his accusing gaze, I shake my head again.

It’s not… possible. It can’t be possible. It shouldn’t be possible.

“Ewan,” he says, and it’s such a shock to hear that name used by someone who isn’t Kenna, I look up and meet his eyes. “Have you really not considered it?”

Again, I can’t answer.

Of course I’ve considered it, and discarded it just as quickly. That’s not the way it works, and especially not for a fates-cursed creature like me.

“Haven’t you—” Elias tries again, and I cut him off with a growl.

Every single conflicting instinct and emotion that have been roiling in me for weeks flare dangerously close to the surface.

Burning desire and the need to hoard. Grief and memory and the slippery sensation of trying to make sense of this too-long life I’ve lived. Fierce possession and unending awe of my ember.

My own arrogance and rigid inability to be wrong.

Kenna’s beautiful face and hopeful eyes when she sat down across from me, right there, in the spot Elias is sitting now.

What had she said, that very first day?

I know it happens fast, recognizing a mate, and I was wondering if that’s what…

Gods almighty, what if she knew before I did?

As soon as I consciously allow space for the possibility, it settles into the center of my chest with a sense ofrightnessthat chokes me even further.

Mate. My mate.

Still, I push back against the sensation, clinging to the last bit of reason or denial or whatever the hell has had me so sure from the very beginning she wasn’t meant to be mine.