Page 8

“So, what the fuck was that?”

The second I hear Dorian’s voice, I’m on my feet, glancing around him, disappointment surging through me when I realize Veva and Sarina aren’t with him.

He stops, crossing his arms and leveling a look at me. “They aren’t here.”

“Where are they?”

“See,” Dorian tilts his head, studying me. I don’t like it—especially knowing that, as my alpha leader, he can already sense something is up with me. “Why does it matter so much to you, man? What the hell is going on with you and Veva Marone?”

The way Dorian says her name—still with the tinge of how we used to say it in high school—instantly reminds me of the reason I’d turned her away all those years ago. It’s only a tenth of the inflection my father used when saying her name, and it still stings, still sends a message about her.

At once, it enrages me and fills me with shame. The fact that anybody would talk about her like that. The fact that I talked about her like that, pushed her away, sent her off into a life where she needed to sell her things at the dark market to survive.

I suck in a breath, look away from Dorian, try to figure out what and how to tell him.

More than anything, I don’t want to tell him. Don’t want to admit the shame of the entire situation—the fact that I was with Veva Marone . The fact that I hid it from him. The fact that I still want her more than anything.

The worst part of it all—that I turned her away. That I was the reason she disappeared.

That I acted, like all the rest of us, like I had no clue what happened to her. Sometimes, when we met up with old buddies from high school, they’d tilt their heads, say something like, “You remember Veva Marone? Wonder why she left like that?”

And I’d shake my head, shrug my shoulders, act like I had not a clue where she went. When the theories came out, always scandalous and cruel, always with that tone, I’d clench my fists under the table and keep my mouth shut, hot embarrassment and shame pounding through me like a river.

“Emin?” Dorian presses, his lips turning to a thin line. “ Hello ?”

I sigh, then refill my lungs.

“Well, Veva and I knew each other better in high school than we let on.”

“I’d say so,” Dorian lets out a dry laugh, “since you didn’t let on that you knew her at all. Listen, Emin, as the alpha leader, I need to know what’s going on here. Need to make sure I have the whole picture.”

“And, as your friend,” I say, heart thundering, “I just…can’t. I need a little time before I can tell you.”

Dorian holds my gaze for much longer than feels comfortable, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine.

“Fine,” he finally says. “But I need to know one thing—that little girl, is she…?”

“No.” My eyes hit the floor, the disappointment rolling through me when the words come out. No. She’s not—she’s two years too young for that to make sense. No matter how much I see myself in her, or how much I wish it could be true. “She’s not.”

“Okay.” Dorian nods once, twice, then claps his hand on my shoulder. “You need a way to let off some of this steam. I can feel it radiating off of you, man. Not good to keep it all bottled up. Even if you’re not going to talk to me, you have to do something with it.”

“You’re not going to tell me where they are?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not sure she wants that right now.”

“Right.” I feel the tension wound inside me, hot, tight knots in my shoulders. My hands are shaking, and my entire body sways with the urge to find Veva, to go to her.

Dorian is right, and I let out a breath, wondering if I should shift, go out on the border, do some patrol. “You got any ideas?”

“Sure,” Dorian grins. “At least one.”

***

Aidan’s right hook slams into my jaw, nearly knocking me clean off the mat. If I wasn’t wearing this ridiculous headgear, he might have cleaved my head right through.

“Fucking shit,” I mutter, shaking my head to clear it and righting myself, seeing two Aidans through the fuzz in my mind.

Smaller than me, with messy gray hair that definitely needs a trim, staring at me with concern.

I wait for the two versions of him to turn back into just one, then say, “Training’s working out, dude. ”

“Yeah?” For all the world, Aidan looks like a puppy that’s just been told he’ll get to go for a walk, his eyes lighting up. “You think so?”

But I’m already moving toward him, catching him off guard and sweeping him off his feet, so he lands flat on his back. Miming a blade, I pretend to sink it right into the center of his chest, and he looks at me with wide eyes, as though I’ve really just killed him.

“Lot of power behind your hook,” I say, grinning at him. “But you have to learn to keep you guard up.”

“Can’t believe I trusted you,” he mutters, but he’s smiling as I pull him to his feet.

Dorian was right—it may be painful, but at least sparring with Aidan is helping me let out some of the roiling feelings inside me. No matter how hard I try, my mind keeps running through the loop—thinking about Sarina, and how much she looks like me.

Aidan swings at me, and I dodge this time, not letting him catch me across the head again. If he does, the fucker might just give me a concussion.

As we fight, my thoughts swing back over to Veva, with another man. Thoughts of her carrying that other man’s child. Watching that other man walk away, leaving her alone with a baby.

I want to get my hands on him, kill him.

Then I remind myself that, except for the fact that she wasn’t pregnant, I did the exact same thing. Basically pushing her out of my window, telling her to go, that the thing between us was over. That I wanted nothing to do with her.

That night, she came to me to tell me that she’d felt the mating bond between us. The last time we were together, I knew it. Felt it in my bones. And the moment she brought it up, held it in the air between us, I would have to face it.

And I couldn’t.

Aidan catches me in the stomach, and I grab his leg, whirling around and taking him to the mat. We roll, fighting for dominance, each trying to find the killing shot on the other, get him to tap out.

This is what I need. I need to exhaust myself, pour this energy out of me. Maybe if I fight hard enough, I can make it so I’m too tired to keep turning these thoughts over and over in my head.

Like where Veva is. What she’s doing right now. If she’s safe, wherever Kira and Dorian put her. Aidan gets his forearm against my throat and I grit my teeth, throwing him off of me and jumping back to my feet.

“Gods,” Aidan pants, chest heaving. “It’s fucking hard to pin you.”

“I’ve got a few years on you, man,” I say, sucking in my own air. “It’s impressive, how strong you’ve gotten since getting here.”

Instantly, his face darkens. “Still not strong enough to kill that fucker.”

That fucker is Jerrod Blacklock—I know that. Once a week, Aidan spars with Dorian, who carries with him the strength of the alpha leader. If Aidan wants to be able to best Jerrod, he’ll need to be able to at least hold Dorian off.

Which he is nowhere near doing.

“You’re getting there,” I say, trying to be reassuring.

Aidan already looks much stronger—the first time I saw him, out on the border between Grayhide and Ambersky territories, he was a scrawny thing.

Said he’d been sick, and the deep bags under his eye, the wan gray complexion of his skin, said “sick” might not have been the most apt description.

I never asked about it. Maybe Dorian knows exactly what Aidan went through.

“I’d like to get there faster,” Aidan says, setting down his bottle resolutely and fixing his eyes on me. “You up for another go?”

I’m exhausted, my muscles burning and trembling slightly from fighting for this long. But when I reach into my mind, I’m still capable of thinking, so I take one last, long drink and set my bottle down, too.

“Always,” I say, stepping back onto the mat, holding my hands up, and urging him to attack. “Bring it on.”