Page 64 of Eternal Light (Fated in the Stars #5)

Nix’s eyes go wide before he barks out a laugh and kisses Leo’s cheek.

He turns so he can rest his back against his chest, pulling Leo’s hands around over his belly as they settle into silence.

Watching the sun’s rays turn the night into day, Leo’s mind finally quiets, settling into simple thoughts about breakfast.

Rowan

There’s a subtle ache in the region of his belly, and it’s getting impossible to ignore. Most people would think it’s because late-night post-fuck snacks were six hours and forty-two minutes ago, and they have earned the right to be hungry after working up an appetite.

Euphemism intended.

Because last night had been epic. Just the way he likes it, especially since Rowan hasn’t been able to enjoy his mates like he usually would, with all the talk of murder, magic, and mayhem.

But yesterday’s all-day orgasm marathon hadn’t stopped after Gideon and Jay had argued over grilling privileges, because Luca and Nix had worked the whole pack into a frenzy when they’d used the diving board to—well, that’s not the point.

What is the point is that Nix and Rowan’s babies are hungry.

It’s got the Wolf pacing with the occasional whine, finally catapulting Rowan into consciousness. He pries himself off Finn, because they are quite literally stuck together with the elixir of life.

Come. He means come.

His, Finn’s, Luca’s, and most importantly, his pack alpha’s.

Shhh. Don’t tell anyone, but the Wolf really wants Jay to mark them.

Is it a new kink? Maybe. Will he be talking about it?

Fuck, no. Because Rowan has ways of getting what he wants without using his gosh-darn words.

One of the perks he’s learned from embracing the Wolf entirely.

This might be the best thing that has happened to Rowan since finding Nix—and maybe after finding out about the girls.

Because no one hates big talk and fake social niceties more than Rowan Foster.

Slipping away, he runs a hot shower, washing the evidence of a night well spent down the drain, promising himself he’ll replace Jay’s scent later this morning if he has anything to say about it.

He finds a stack of discarded clothing on the floor of the bathroom: Jay’s tank top and Gideon’s boxers, which solves half his morning plans already.

What? Don’t judge. He’s a man on a mission, and that mission needs pants.

Unfortunately.

His mates are still snoring when he leaves the room and makes his way down to the kitchen, following the Wolf to where he can feel Nix.

Leo and Nix are sitting outside watching the sunrise, and while it’s pretty, it’s not going to feed his mates or grow his babies—and the Wolf has a two-track mind where Nix is concerned.

Fuck and Feed. Or rather, it does today.

Two nights ago, Rowan-wolf had discovered a third motivation, one he’d only felt once before—when he’d scented Dill Pickle in their den, and the Wolf had known before any of them that he’d been sent by someone to hurt his omega mate.

He’d finally understood what he imagined Gideon, Jay, or even Grayson had been feeling since they discovered Carnell had been the evil mastermind behind Nix’s torture and trauma. He had felt overwhelming rage. Stupid, idiotic, irresponsible rage that someone would dare to threaten his mates.

Look, people might think Rowan goes through life with a disregard for his own safety, for caution, and for general common sense. And they’d probably be right. But since he’d let the Wolf out, it had been easier. Easier for him to see reason and to think before he leaps.

Gasp! The irony.

Especially given how his actions nearly got them all killed—and that brings him back to the rage part.

He’s always fought the Wolf with regards to dominance, never with regards to doing what felt good or what felt right.

Weirdly, on that front, they’d always seen eye-to-eye.

The Wolf had never steered him wrong when it came to caring for the others, and as long as it didn’t involve baring his neck to Jay, things were easy.

Mostly, at least—until Nix came along.

But it still came down to dominance, and that dominance came down to his Wolf figuring out that Jay was the wolf for the job.

Until then, any and all stupidity fell squarely on Rowan-person’s broad shoulders.

(What? They’re nice shoulders; Nix said so, so it must be true.)

But that night on the patio, with Withers threatening his mates…well, the Wolf had done what he always does. He lost all good sense and acted on pure animal instinct.

He charged in where only fools— that’s him, he’s the fool —fear to tread.

He protec. He attac. He fuck up.

Just thinking about it has him smacking himself in the forehead to remind himself he was a dumbass.

Is still a dumbass.

It’s not long before he has a stack of perfectly formed pancakes with maple syrup, cut fruit, and crispy bacon ready on a plate.

Nix scampers in from outside, covered only in Rowan’s and Grayson’s hickeys. It must be a bit chilly because he can see the goosebumps from twenty paces, so he sacrifices his Jay-scented tank for a good cause.

“Pancakes and bacon, Ro! My favorite. Thank you!” he praises, and Rowan wiggles his butt like he’s in his wolf form, invisible tail sharing his pride in the words.

His cheeks burn, as they always do, so he hides his embarrassment by sliding the tank top over his mate’s fluffy hair and smoothing it down over his belly.

“Sit, Nix. Is Leo coming in, too?”

“Mmm, in a bit. He wanted to watch the rest of the sunrise, but I don’t think he knew there was bacon. Don’t let me eat it all.”

Rowan doesn’t tell him that he would, in fact, let him eat it all, and would be happy for the privilege.

Sighing at the Wolf’s simping internal monologue, he lifts Nix onto a stool at the breakfast bar, making sure Jay’s long tank is under his juicy butt.

He’s unshowered, and he does not want to deal with the Wolf attempting to set fires to this very nice kitchen.

He doesn’t say any of that out loud, only cuts pieces of pancake and puts them into his beautiful mate’s mouth while he tries not to think about how he’s fucked up again. About how it all could have gone terribly wrong as Grayson and Jay tried to save him from his own stupidity.

He’s putting the tenth bite on the fork when Nix stops his hand.

“Ro, it’s really good, but you smell sad, and my tummy can’t handle the food and your distress at the same time. Mixed signals, ya know?”

He meets Rowan’s eyes and gives a rueful smile and a tiny shrug.

“Is there something you want to talk about?”

No.

Fuck, no.

Absolutely not.

Rowan did not want to talk about it. Or rather, the Wolf thinks it’s a bad idea to bare all their failings to the father of their children.

He’ll lose faith in us.

The words echo through him, and he knows that’s his biggest worry. Of course, it’s not as simple as that, either, but worrying that his mates won’t see him as equal—that they’ll blame him for something serious…well, that’s the worst he’s ever let himself feel since Jay fucking died.

Like ever.

He shakes his head and stands up, taking the half-finished plate to the garbage disposal and stuffing the leftover pancakes and strawberries in with a fork.

“Rowan,” Nix says as he wraps his arms around his waist, his firm, round belly pressing below his butt. One of the babies gives him a firm hoof, and it’s as good as a kick to the ass.

What kind of Dad is he going to be to them if he hides from his mistakes?

“I fucked up, Nix. They almost died because I couldn’t control the Wolf—myself—enough to wait.

Jay had a plan, and Grayson had that fucker under control, and then I had to go and start shit ahead of schedule.

Just pissed him right off and gave him exactly what he wanted.

Put Jay in his sights. I couldn’t save them or, fuck… I couldn’t save myself.”

Rowan wants to throw the plate against the wall as disappointment in himself turns into anger. Instead, he drops it in the sink and turns in Nix’s arms, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Maybe if he can’t see Nix’s disappointment, Nix won’t see him.

“Why am I such a fuck-up, Nix?”

There is not one second of hesitation before Nix’s scent shoots straight past comfort and into burnt and pissed-off. Great, now his omega is mad at him. He whines, and he can’t tell if it’s the Wolf or him.

“Rowan Foster, you are not a fuck-up.”

Nix hesitates before stepping back and crossing his arms.

“Listen to me, because I want you to really hear me, okay?”

Rowan nods and swallows hard, past the tears trapped in his throat.

“We all make mistakes, Ro. It’s what makes us human—or rather, Were. We are flawed. All of us. It’s the nature of living. What point is everything if we aren’t growing? Learning?”

“Why is it all so hard, though?” Rowan asks, but he really means scary .

“All I really want is to be like Jay or Gideon. Just knowing what I should be doing and not making things fucking worse all the goddamn time. Since I’ve been the Wolf, I’ve felt like finally I know what I’m supposed to be doing, who I’m supposed to be. ”

Nix smiles. “It must feel amazing.”

“It does…like I’m finally right. Know what I mean?”

“It won’t come as a surprise to you to hear that I know exactly what you mean. I have never felt more right than when I found all of you, and now, I’m going to be a Dad.”

Nix rubs his hands over his belly.

“Change isn’t as simple as going from one thing to another, even though it might feel like that from the outside. And I suppose it applies to me, too. Look, carrying our kids doesn’t just make me a Dad, yeah? That’s going to be a change that takes a lifetime.”

Rowan lets that sink in.

It reminds him of that night on the rampart. It hadn’t been words so much as images and feelings that ran through his head. And maybe that was because he was the Wolf at the time.

They had shown him countless images of times when he stood beside Nix and his mates as The Wolf, with Nix’s hand dug deeply into his fur.

It had felt so real.

Their connection is still so real, even through space and time.

They’d stood together on ramparts, under flags with the head of the Wolf rippling in a wind he couldn’t feel—but that he knew smelled like death. He’d curled up on the floors of tents or hotel rooms, walked dirt roads, sidewalks, and in one instance, a strange glowing pedway.

But just as often, he’d stood between his king and an executioner’s ax, or held his guardian as the last of life faded from his eyes, his white hair still soft against his dimpled cheek.

He’d held fast at the doors of a library, protecting the knowledge—and its scholar—within from pillaging soldiers.

More and more flashes of lives he’d lived in some previously forgotten time, but this time, They had let him keep them all.

All those memories where he had done what he was intended to do—living and loving together, eight souls, as wolves and as men.

Through good and bad, Rowan and Rowan-wolf loved and accepted for all of who he is, every time.

Maybe he gets it now.

He’ll still have apologies to make (as usual, it seems), but he knows it’ll be good.

“You’re saying that life is hard and change is harder, but at least we’re in it together? And I’ll get the hang of this shit if I keep trying?”

Nix chuckles. “Simply put, yes. It will all work out for the best, Ro.” Nix moves into Rowan’s arms again. “You have to try to forgive yourself. Talk to Jamie if you need to; you always feel better after you do.”

“I will. Grayson and Finn, too. I promise. And I’ll keep trying to be better. As Jay says, live to fight the good fight for another day. I can do that.”

“Exactly; but with a long life in mind, you should definitely not pee on Lauren.”

“Fuck, yeah. Good plan.” Rowan shudders.