Page 23

OLLIE

Ollie tossed and turned, his bed infuriatingly uncomfortable. Every position he twisted his body into was worse than the last. He should have asked Harper for another sleeping potion but didn’t want to start relying on them.

As soon as Onyx had left the salon, dread settled over Ollie. He was lost and didn’t know what to do. It had weighed on him the whole way home.

Harper had been a good distraction, but it had been hours since they’d gone to bed. Ollie’s skin crawled. He was cold under his blankets, and every time he closed his eyes, clawed fingers closed around his neck.

He was afraid of the dreams he’d have if he ever fell asleep. The sticky sweat on his skin might as well have been blood. Ollie swore he could smell it. He felt small and insignificant, and more than anything, he wanted to undo it all.

Ollie couldn’t rewind and get his old life back. His heart raced. He couldn’t do this forever. He didn’t want to.

He threw back the covers and got out of bed, pulling a hoodie over his T-shirt and sleep pants. The apartment was stuffy. He shouldn’t need this many layers or have been cold at all. Was he sick? Wait, no. He couldn’t get sick anymore.

Did being immortal mean he’d never even get a cold? What about headaches?

He didn’t understand his own body. His own feelings. There was a pit inside him. Ollie had never felt this alone or helpless. How was he supposed to get over this and move on?

He grabbed his phone and went to the living room, settling on the couch and selecting a mindless game. Maybe if he played long enough, he’d pass out, but he kept fucking up and having to start over.

Frustration added to everything piled on top of him, and Ollie whined pitifully.

Harper’s door creaked open and Ollie whipped his head around. Had Harper heard that mortifying noise?

“Hey,” Harper said softly. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really. Did I wake you up?”

Harper shook his head. “I’ve never slept well. I was awake already.”

Ollie’s brow furrowed. “Why don’t you sleep well?”

Harper sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“I grew up in a pretty bad situation. My father drained my blood for the magic in it, to use for himself, and when I tried to resist, he’d hurt me.

Tie me down. Do all sorts of shit. I couldn’t sleep living in the same house as him.

Now my body doesn’t know what to do at night. ” He shrugged.

“Fuck, Harper. That’s awful.” Ollie’s heart broke for him. “And here I am being traumatized after having my blood spilled once by a random attacker.”

“What happened to you was horrible, Ollie, no matter what happened to me or anyone else.”

The pit inside Ollie grew. He felt even more alone sitting next to Harper than he had before. “Maybe I need another sleep potion. I’m afraid to close my eyes.”

“I can make one if you want, but as soon as you stop taking them, you’ll be back here, needing to process what happened.”

Harper was right. His days would get worse the longer he ignored his feelings at night. He’d rather panic or have flashbacks in his apartment than at work.

“Have you thought about calling Dante?” Harper asked.

“What?” More sweat prickled along Ollie’s skin. His heart swelled, filling some of the void inside him.

“He’s your mate,” Harper said gently. “He can help. I’ll always be here to talk to you, do whatever I can, but Dante can be here for you too. He can give you things I can’t.”

But why? Because of their bond? Ollie wanted to resist Dante. He could accept Harper’s help because he didn’t have conflicted feelings for Harper. Reaching out to Dante felt like opening himself up to a world of things he didn’t trust.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to call Dante. Imagining Dante with him in the dark living room settled Ollie in a way he hadn’t experienced all day.

“Okay, I’ll call him.” Ollie looked down at his phone and butterflies erupted in his chest, chasing away the darkness eating at him.

“Good. I really think it’ll help. He’ll be glad you called.” Harper stood and headed back to his room, squeezing Ollie’s shoulder as he went.

Ollie found Dante’s contact and pressed call. Normally, he’d never do anything except text. Calling was needy, and calling in the middle of the night was borderline alarming, but he couldn’t handle texting and sitting around waiting for a response.

He needed Dante, even if it scared him .

“Ollie?” Dante answered after a couple rings, sounding groggy. “Hi. Are you all right?”

A soft prickle washed over Ollie from head to toe. “I’m…” He was about to say fine, but he wasn’t fine. It was the whole reason he called. “I’m not feeling great. I can’t sleep. Sorry, are you busy?”

Ollie cringed. Every one of his words had sounded impossibly dumb. Why would Dante be busy at two in the morning? Ollie wanted Dante so badly now that he’d heard his voice, but he shouldn’t. It was too much. Relying on someone like this was a recipe for an unhealthy relationship.

“I’m not busy,” Dante replied. “Would you like me to come over?”

“Yes,” Ollie breathed into the phone, hating the relief washing over him. Maybe he was the obsessed, stalkery one of the two of them.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Okay, thanks. It’s not a big deal. But I can’t stop thinking about the beach and all these weird things I don’t understand.” Hell, he was making it worse. Shut up.

“We can talk about it, and I’ll explain anything you want,” Dante said like he wasn’t freaked out by Ollie at all. “Thank you for calling.”

“Yeah. See you soon.” Ollie lowered the phone and ended the call.

He tapped his fingers against the back of the phone. How long would it take Dante to get here? What was Ollie going to say when he arrived? His cheeks burned, heart pounding, but it wasn’t like when he’d been in bed. He wasn’t hopeless.

Not long later, he got a text from Dante saying he was at Ollie’s front door. He jumped up from the couch and went to let him in .

“How’d you get in the building?” Ollie asked as he opened the door. He should have had to buzz Dante in.

“I came from the roof.” Dante stepped inside and reached for Ollie, then dropped his hands like he’d changed his mind.

Ollie wished Dante wouldn’t hold back. He wanted Dante to touch him, hold him, care for him.

He wanted Dante as something other than a friend.

It had never been more glaring than it was right then, but Ollie was afraid of what he wanted, especially in the face of everything he didn’t understand about mates and immortality.

Ollie shifted unsteadily on his feet. “Thanks for coming so quick.”

Dante quietly shut the door. “Anytime, Ollie. Like I said, you can always call. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Ollie reached out and squeezed Dante’s hand. He could get lost in Dante’s deep-brown eyes. His gaze was grounding, tethering Ollie to the moment and keeping him from getting lost in the memory of hands on his throat.

Ollie dropped Dante’s hand and turned away. Dante wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Ollie would ravage him with his eyes if he didn’t get himself together.

He led Dante to the living room. “You flew here?”

“I fly pretty much everywhere. Would you like me to put my shirt back on?” Dante sat on the couch, gesturing to where a shirt was tied to his belt.

Ollie shook his head. “Do whatever’s most comfortable for you. You can take your wings back out if you want.”

Dante smiled so tenderly that Ollie’s heart skipped. “I prefer having my wings out, but space is a little tight here.”

That was disappointing, even if it shouldn’t be. “I didn’t think of that.” Ollie sat beside Dante, much closer than he’d been to Harper .

Dante ran a hand through his black curls and his horns appeared, dark gray shimmering in the low light. “How’s this?”

Ollie resisted the urge to reach out and touch them. “Good.” He liked seeing Dante as he truly was.

Dante’s expression shifted from pleased to concerned, more lines appearing around his eyes. “How have you been, Ollie? Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Ollie twisted his hands in his lap. “I keep thinking about the beach and feeling his hands on me. I’m so overwhelmed. I don’t get what’s happening. Why did you say we were mates before you needed to save me?”

Dante didn’t immediately respond, and the urge to explain himself got the better of Ollie.

“I feel like I’m missing something. What does being your mate mean?

I know I have to deal with the trauma of the attack, and I’m not going to be okay with what happened and forget it immediately, but all this other stuff is worse.

I don’t know what’s happening with my life—my future—now that I’ll live forever.

What if you don’t want me as your mate anymore? ”

Ollie bit his lip, forcing himself to be quiet. Fuck, he shouldn’t have let that last worry out.

Creases appeared around Dante’s mouth, bringing a sense of deep sadness to his expression. “You don’t have to worry about me not wanting to be your mate. I’ve always wanted to be your mate. You’re right. You’re still missing a few things. I didn’t tell you everything.”

Ollie scooted closer. “Why not?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you that demon mates are destined.

That I couldn’t have bonded with anyone, only with you.

I did it to save you, but the bond isn’t something I could have done to save anyone else.

The bond is for you and me, Ollie. We’re fated mates.

Our connection was always meant to form.

We were meant to be, but it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. ”

Ollie’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. “How was it supposed to happen?”

Dante raised a shoulder. “I don’t know exactly. Being destined for each other doesn’t mean I could see our future. Mated pairs are fated, but we don’t know who our mates are until we meet them.”