Page 47

The stone floors are cold under his feet, and for a moment, Grayson yearns for the days when their home had dirt floors and the Goddess’s forest was closer at hand.

The nest is cold already, and certainly, his mates had other, more urgent things to attend to this morning.

But Grayson hates waking alone.

He’d been up long into the small hours of the morning, communing with the Moon and gathering Their strength to charge his soul, and had come to bed to find all seven of his mates fast asleep, smelling of sweet satisfaction.

Soul magic was a divine gift from the Sun God and the Moon Goddess—one that They bestowed while creating the life-giving Earth. Its core hummed with the magnetic resonances that were felt in both humans and Weres alike.

He can’t divest himself of the thought that something has changed in the balance; while the Moon still pulsed strongly in his cells, the Sun God’s influence has waned. It makes him feel lopsided—a cart with two wheels, rather than three.

He could not explain it more clearly than that, even to Finn, who couldn’t find anything in his books and scrolls. No amount of theory or history books could explain something only Grayson could feel.

It’s true. Magic is waning, as he is the lone magic user in this entire Kingdom.

Unless you count the magic of his soulmate, Nix, who was magical in his own way but could not draw on the gifts without Grayson.

They are Soulmates. Two halves of the same whole, destined to be joined throughout time.

Grayson is blessed to have a soulmate as well as six other mates, who were gifted to him by the Goddess. Together, they melded to create the perfect whole .

Eight phases of the moon, a never-ending infinity of love; eight singularly talented men who were blessed to offer protection, knowledge, and defense of the Goddess’s plan in every stage.

This isn’t the first time they have been joined as a pack and as lovers, nor will it be the last.

Grayson can recall, through the immense magic and magnified by his soul bond, many different lifetimes since the dawn of time where he has loved—or will love—these men.

Always with the same face, the same mind, and the same commitment to each other.

He can’t recall every moment, and what he does recall is often easier to see when he walks the spiritual Plain. He sometimes sees the King in other places—as a simple farmer or on the bank of a river, fishing.

He entertains his mates on occasion with the more fanciful moments: where he is cooking over a fire or wearing odd garments made from strange fabrics.

Where he is dancing to or singing strange music for many citizens.

These stories make his mates laugh the most because their King couldn’t crack an egg or make tea if he tried, let alone sing a tune that didn’t make the cats cry.

With that thought putting a smile on his face, Grayson pulls on that place inside him where his gift lies and starts the fire for his tea.

The firewood was laid out—no doubt by ever-thoughtful Leo, who has gone to stand by his King’s side as counselor and voice of reason.

He acts to balance out Jay on the other side, who is less tolerant of ignorant courtiers who whisper dissent in their midst.

Jay is certain they do so for more reasons than entertainment.

There has been the whisper of evil more and more as of late. Citizens bring tales of darkness rising beyond their horizons, and Jay has been harvesting the news like a miner for gold.

He will not let their Kingdom or the Goddess’s Will fall.

Jay’s desire to protect has not changed in millennia. Nor, Grayson believes, will it, once this life has ended, for Jay’s wolf has a fearsome, honorable heart, strong enough to stand through time itself.

The heavy curtains over the balcony doors hold back the light, but not the noise in the courtyard below, and Grayson can hear the clash and clang of swords, as well as laughter mixed with the usual growls of the practice combat.

Slipping outside and into the morning sun, he leans on the railing overlooking the melee.

His soulmate is a miracle to watch. A treasured Omega warrior: faster, stronger, and more cunning than any Were.

He sends a surge of power through their bond, and Nix looks up to wave as he narrowly avoids the two training combatants’ joint attempt to subdue him.

They collide comedically as he flips backward out of the way, and the much larger men fall to the ground at Nix’s tiny bare feet.

His mate is quick to offer a hand to help his soldiers up and slap their backs as they bow in defeat.

Nix just adjusts his tunic over his pregnant belly and bows in return, quick to thank them for their efforts and the exercise.

It takes Nix less time to scale the wall to their castle room than it does for Grayson to make them a cup of tea, and when his mate slips in from the balcony and slides his arms around Grayson’s waist from behind, it feels like two parts of a whole locking into place.

Where Grayson charges his magic under the moon and on the ground, Nix charges his soul like the pure sunshine he is.

Together, Grayson can ground himself in perfect resonance: sun–earth–moon.

****

“We’re here, children,” Gideon grumbles, and Grayson feels the dream slip away. It’s the third one he’s had today, and it’s hard not to lay the image of Grayson’s King over Gideon’s smirking face; it’s been getting more and more difficult to ignore the genuine feeling that they are both reality.

There are small, warm fingers wedged into the top of his sweatpants.

That familiar feeling of “recharging” surges, and again, the word magic slips through his mind.

It is hard to ignore this time, and yet it’s something he hasn’t been able to bring himself to seek with purpose. It’s just too ludicrous.

The wolf doesn’t think so, though, and Grayson has to clamp down hard on his co-pilot to pull him back from chasing the heat and magnetic power that immediately retreats in his chest when Nix pulls his fingers out to run them through his fluffy brown hair.

“Again: the plan is the same, but this time, let’s try not to blow anything up or draw any attention to ourselves,” Gideon murmurs and opens his car door.

He doesn’t even ask for any agreement, and maybe Grayson should have taken that as a sign of how impossible any single one of those requests was going to be to keep.

The University of Florida’s Rare Books and Special Collections is housed in the Smathers Library Building.

The short walk across campus makes his wolf’s ruff stand up, even though he settles somewhat once they clear security.

It took umbrage with scanners and pulses of invisible energy, but the metal detector proved benign, unlike the MRI not an hour ago.

The calm doesn’t last for long, however—the scents of old books, stressed students, and cleaning chemicals ramp up Grayson’s annoyance.

“Smells like dead trees in here,” Grayson mutters. Why Wolf would think this library smells any different from other ones, or even the museums and galleries Grayson frequents on a weekly basis at home, is a mystery.

He can tell Gideon is holding back the snarky, yeah, it does because books are in fact dead trees. But maybe his wolf is feeling off, too.

“You’re right! It also smells like…blood?” Blood!? “Not fresh, though. Old.”

Nix sticks his tiny nose in the air and slips his hand into Grayson’s with a squeeze.

Grayson can’t smell it, but Wolf is preoccupied with the scents of too many humans and a few Weres at a desk by the window, the latter of whom spot them right away.

Florida’s population of Weres is smaller compared to Tennessee, and the foursome Rhodes Pack must stand out.

Grayson merely nods and ushers his mates further into the Library proper, following Finn’s lead toward the office to the left of the main circulation desk.

He points to a bench beside the circulation desk near the office, where the words Head of Acquisitions and Library Science are etched into a brass plaque on a heavy wooden door.

“Okay, stay here for a minute. I’m going to figure out where I can find what I’m looking for and see how far Lauren’s connections will get me on Level One. Do not cause any trouble.”

Grayson wants to argue that none of the trouble before had been intentional.

Okay, maybe the snarky attitude had been a bit intentional.

But the eventual coffee hadn’t taken the edge off the wolf’s agitation, Gideon’s snark, or the itchy feeling in the back of Grayson’s brain.

When Grayson had described it as not liking the MRI machine, the phrase had been an understatement.

The confined space and the noise were one thing, but the surges of magnetic energy stimulated the wolf in new ways—and where he’d described the sensation as a ping, it was more like a deep pulling.

Not at all dissimilar to what he’d felt from that human magic user, except the machine hadn’t been trying to use Grayson’s soul, or follow it, or drag it somewhere where he could see Grayson better.

He knows how ridiculous it sounds, he really does, so he kept the worst of it to himself.

There’s a connection there that Grayson’s missing; it’s just out of reach, on the edge of his consciousness.

Leaning into Gideon while they wait, the alpha stiffens at the distraction from his surveillance but throws an arm around him just the same.

It’s comforting, and when Grayson thinks about it, he recognizes that this feeling of being grounded and cared for is born of a million lifetimes, not just this one.

“Gid—” Grayson begins, not sure what he was going to say, but Finn is quickly moving toward them, a key card in his hand and a tiny smile of success on his lips.

“Okay, let’s go before she changes her mind. She does not want us in the Were archive, for whatever reason.”