Page 48

He leads the way to the end of the main floor, where there is a set of open stairs from the lower levels to the fifth floor.

They’re primarily for show, since most people use the elevators.

A stained-glass full solar system revolves over the five-story opening, catching the light of the afternoon sun and shooting a kaleidoscope over all the walls.

“Wow, look at that! Do you think it rotates in synchronized orbit with the actual moon?” Nix whispers.

“No idea, but that would be cool,” Grayson responds .

Nix gives him the biggest smile as a reward.

He will never get used to how his mate looks at the world as if it’s his first time living, with awe and joy at even the smallest things.

If Grayson weren’t seventy-five percent sure it wasn’t…

well, regardless, Nix is a gift to him in this life and whatever other lives his brain is cooking up.

He’s unsurprisingly unworried about that aspect of his delusions, at least.

It’s darker and cooler on the lowest level, and they walk past the Florida University Press to the doors to the Special Archives. Using the card he was given, they enter a virtually silent, sterile modern area where there are display cases with bound manuscripts and old books on stands.

“What are we going to find here?” Gideon asks.

“I was thinking the same thing. You never said what you were looking for.” Nix runs a finger over a long table.

“What we want isn’t in here. It’s in there.

” He nods his head to the door that is glowing at the back of the room.

It says Staff Only , but the plaque under those words says Were Rare Collections .

It has to be spelled for the human curators not to notice, and a tingle of anticipation sets the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

They enter cautiously, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet and the sheer weight of the place, as though afraid to disturb the silence. Grayson’s eyes widen at the scale of the shelves towering above him, his gaze drifting up to where the light seems to fade into shadowed heights.

Magic.

There’s no outward sign that the library structure they entered could house the vast array of texts and artifacts in glass cases that stretch into the darkness in front of them, spanning so many floors.

Nix’s curious nature would usually have him grinning beside Grayson, the dim light catching the bronze strands of his hair, but even he is subdued by the quiet majesty of the room.

Gideon pauses just inside the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets, taking it all in with his usual suspicion and distrust.

But Finn is in his element. He walks away with purpose and then stops, turning to point at them. “Hey, just…don’t touch anything. Th is place is full of all kinds of irreplaceable shit. I’m just over here.” He points to a sign that has arrows indicating 133.00 to 133.99.

Weaving through the maze of shelves with a confidence that suggests he’s been here many times before (which he most certainly has not), his steps are sure and deliberate. He doesn’t hesitate, barely glancing at the volumes around them as he disappears through the rows of aging books.

“The scent of blood from before? It’s really strong here,” Nix whispers, though his voice barely disturbs the quiet.

Grayson isn’t surprised now that he thinks about it. No doubt buckets of blood have been shed in the creation of these works of art. There’s a reason the saying says “blood, sweat and tears.” It applies to artists almost as much as it does to soldiers.

The wolf isn’t interested in the scent of old blood amongst the books and artifacts, though. Not as much as he is the scent of patchouli. There’s an energy associated with the scent, and he gives in and follows the wolf’s nose.

Leaving Nix and Gideon to trail after him, his heartbeat picks up as he passes rows labeled with 298…299…finally slowing when he gets to a twelve-foot tall shelf of books with a row of scrolls along the very top.

Grayson slides a tall brass ladder silently back along the runners until he stops at 299.2. There aren’t any signs other than the numbers themselves, and Grayson supposes it’s because anyone who is this far into rare collections must already know what they’re here for.

Nix sits in a chair nearby at a long table and digs inside his multitude of sweaters for a snack, only to stop abruptly at the sign that threatens dire expulsion if anyone is caught eating in the special collections areas. “Darn it. Gray, what are you looking for?”

“My thoughts exactly, Kitten. Gray, unless you’re planning on reordering these priceless tomes for sheer chaos alone, then please, get your ass down. I think we should find Dr. Merritt and get out of here.”

“My spidey sense is tingling, too,” Nix shivers, their bond jolting when Grayson ignores them both.

He runs his finger along the series of scrolls on the uppermost shelf until he reaches one at the bottom of the stack. It’s the strangest thing—to think these irreplaceable silk scrolls are just lying about—but when Grayson touches this particular one, he gets a jolt of magic.

It’s different from the low-level spells he can feel emanating from every artifact in the place.

No doubt, it must take an army of magic users to maintain even the minimal protections across so many floors.

Finn had once told them that shifts of magic users were required to keep Lupine General cloaked from humans in Nashville on the spell’s anniversary.

But this doesn’t feel big so much as it does intense.

As it is, the silk of the scroll should crumble when he slides it out—thousands of years old as it is—but its gold-carved finial glows in the ambient light.

And on the tail of that jolt of protection magic, there’s something else—something familiar.

It makes the wolf insistent, and, not for the first time, Grayson finds himself following the wolf’s instincts.

“I just need to look at this one thing, okay?” He takes the silk scroll down and then places it on the table where Nix is sitting.

Gideon helps him unroll it along the table.

It’s written in Sumerian, and where Grayson’s grasp of Sumerian is nil, he has a startling recognition of the ink drawings along its surface.

“Holy fucking shit balls,” Nix whispers, as he brushes a fingertip along his own likeness, then Luca’s.

There’s a hitched breath when Gideon finds his image, in ink but with gold inlaid over his garments, denoting rank. “What is this?”

“I don’t know…fuck, that’s a lie. Sorry. I think…I think I drew this.”

Nix’s head tilts, and his eyes pop wide. “The dreams. I had one in the car! Was that you ?”

“I think it’s us , Angel. I’ve been having them since we bonded, and now they’re even stronger. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why? What if they’re not dreams at all, and they’re…what? Past lives? Or other lives? Why would you be sorry?” He grins and moves around the other side of the table. “Look! Leo has long hair! And where is Jamie?”

“Right here,” Gideon murmurs, a finger caressing the figure painstakingly etched to his likeness’s right, dressed in a red coat. Shoulder to shoulder, much as they are today. The artist— Grayson —has given Jay from that era alpha-red eyes.

Gideon scrambles for his phone, opening the camera before taking a few photos. They’re black when he tries to see them in the phone’s gallery.

“They’re covered by a protection spell, but it’s not the library’s,” a soft voice murmurs from behind them.

They’d been so enthralled with the ink drawings on the scroll that they hadn’t even heard or smelled the newcomers.

It’s the MRI technician, Emmy, from the hospital, and she is with an older woman who looks remarkably like her. The older woman has long, graying black hair and a white SpongeBob and Patrick T-shirt stretched over her ample bosom.

Gideon is around the table in an instant, pulling Nix behind him in the blink of an eye. Their omega squawks and wriggles to be free, but the wolf is grateful his King has moved his soulmate out of the way because where Emmy is entirely a normal human, the older woman is not.

Magic radiates from her every pore, glowing bright orange from the center of her chest, causing her hair to swirl and wave in the still library.

The wolf doesn’t wait a single second before he cracks open the place Grayson has avoided for months.

A flood of power surges out from his soul and he hears Nix cry out.

Without taking his eyes off the magic user he can see Finn barrel into their row out of the corner of his eye.

He drops the stack of books he’d been holding when the wolf gently nudges him toward Gideon with a gust of air.

“Leave,” the wolf growls, and he uses his palm to push the same gust of air toward the magic user. But she meets the magic with her counter-gust, and the surrounding books and scrolls fall to the floor.

“Aw…no. Not the books, Gray.” It’s the last thing Grayson hears before he lets the wolf—and the magic—take over.

“I won’t tell you again,” the wolf says, and this time, two twin rosy-pink flames pop to life in the palms of his hands.

This is what he was describing to the others when he was dreaming in the MRI. This is his chosen battle form, from all the powers the Earth can bring forth.

“ Stand down, Warrior,” echoes in the cavernous room, and his flames flicker.

Her voice carries authority, and her hands reveal ginger-colored lightning snapping and crackling between her fingers. There’s a small smirk on her face, and it incites the wolf’s ire to new heights.

“Mom, for fuck’s sake. You’re just pissing him off,” Emmy mutters, and forces her mother’s hands down. “You’re going to bring the building down on our heads, or worse.”

The wolf takes the opportunity to pull again on that pulsing life in his chest, and his feet leave the floor. In the blink of an eye, he has the woman’s throat in his hand.

“I can’t help you if you kill me now, Warrior”. The voice echoes again, and this time, it’s followed by a raised eyebrow.

Help him? Warrior? Yes, that part feels true.

“Your soulmate is suffering.”

Nix.

At the mention of his angel, Grayson finally acknowledges the torrent of power he’s drawing from their joined souls and checks on Nix’s end. It’s not as strong as it usually is, and worse, his mate is diverting pieces of himself to protect their babies.

With a last look at the woman and Emmy he sets her feet and his own back on the blue library carpet. He doesn’t walk or run to his omega’s side as much as he wants to be there, so he is. He takes Nix’s slack body from Gideon’s arms and eases them both to the floor.

“What do you want, magic user?” Gideon spits, moving to shield them with his body. The alpha is using his tone and stature to intimidate, and Grayson thinks he has never seen his mate look more regal.

“He’s okay, Gray. Breathe. You are burning up,” Finn says quietly, phone app pulled up; he must be toggling between his and Nix’s pages. Knowing he hasn’t drained their shared soul dry, Grayson can turn an ear to the conversation going on above him.

“My daughter thought I might be able to help your mate, Alpha. Although she wasn’t sure at first, it didn’t take much to figure out when she got a look at his scans. Magic users don’t have MRIs voluntarily, and she suspected you didn’t know what you were dealing with.”

“How did you know where to find us?”

“Your mate dropped this. It has his…DNA on it.” She throws something small at Gideon, and he catches it with lightning reflexes.

Sighing, Gideon thrusts it behind him, toward them. It’s his piercing. Shit. It must have fallen out of Nix’s pocket in the aftermath of the explosion.

“You tracked us here? With his blood?” Blood magic sounds terrible.

The woman laughs but shakes her head vehemently. “Blood magic is bad magic. The gold is receptive to his life force, and he holds it in high regard and wears it over his heart. It was easy.”

He did hold it in high regard. It was a gift from Finn that he treasured. Finn smiles a little and winks to let Grayson know he appreciates the sentiment.

“You really are ignorant of this, aren’t you? I can’t blame you, I suppose; a Were with magic.” She shakes her head incredulously.

Bad magic? Does that mean there must be good magic, then? Wait…ignorant? The wolf growls at the insult, and Grayson has to roll his eyes at the stupidity.

She’s right. We know fuck-all, you dumbass.

Regardless of the threats from the signage, Finn retrieves two bars of chocolate from the depths of Nix’s sweaters.

Without opening his eyes, Nix’s mouth opens like a baby bird so Finn can feed him tiny pieces.

He holds the other one to Grayson, who shakes his head.

He’s exhausted, but Nix might need them both.

“Warrior, you should listen to your mate. He knows what he’s doing. The food feeds your inner fire and you used a lot of energy there. You don’t want to be at a disadvantage while you’re charging up.”

Gideon growls, stepping into the woman’s space. “Are you threatening my mates?”

Emmy squeaks at the sheer force of Gideon’s alpha wolf and steps behind her mother, who just smiles.

“I wouldn’t have come to a library if I intended to harm you.

But we should leave as soon as we can. We were accessing The Plain for too long not to go unnoticed.

I assume you are avoiding any unwanted attention? ”

Unwanted attention sounds about right. And she was right; the chocolate helps settle that energy in his chest down enough that he can see the women are sincere in their intentions. How he knows they are sincere is unclear to Grayson, but they are.

“She’s right, we should go,” Nix says and climbs to his feet, but slides his palm under Grayson’s shirt. Skin-on-skin contact helps instantly, and their bond magnifies tenfold, making his exhaustion fade even further.

“Will you look at that,” the magic-user murmurs, and tilts so she can better see Grayson behind Gideon. “Something new for the ages, I expect.” She has no regard for Gideon’s narrowed eyes or that he’s exceeded the scent blocker patch enough that even the very human Emmy sneezes twice.

“Where to?” Finn asks, as he picks up the books he’d dropped on the floor and places them on the table, while Nix helps to roll up the silk scroll. It pains Grayson to see his art hidden away again for another millennium, and he wonders if there might be more; in other scrolls, in other libraries.

And if he’d embedded magic in them for his other selves to find.

He has a mind to try to remove it from the library, but doubts the library’s magic hasn’t accounted for that in a very bad, very public manner.

“Like I said, I’m here to help.” She rubs her hands with subdued excitement and bows. “I am Nimue Wyrd. You remember my daughter, Emmy? If we are to be allies, I would know your names… Warrior, King, Scholar, and Lunarch. ”