Page 33 of Randall (The Tenth Step #3)

Flynn

Exhaustion crept in slow waves, swallowing Flynn’s attempt to keep his eyes open. So much had happened in so short a time that his mind and body couldn’t keep up anymore. On the verge of collapsing, his knees weakened, and he might have fallen if Darvon hadn’t pulled them together.

Randall tucked in against his back, cocooning Flynn in the warmth of his taller mates. He laid his head against Darvon’s chest, listening to his mate’s heart thump, thump, thump in a steady, soothing rhythm. One caressed his neck and hair; the other swept their hands along his sides and back.

“We’re taking Flynn back to our room. He’s nearly asleep on his feet.”

Randall’s whispered words washed over Flynn, allowing him to close his eyes, knowing his mates would care for him.

“Your mate, brother?” the Fae on the bed asked. Darvon’s brother... Jarrah, though he barely looked like what Flynn recalled from when Jarrah had last visited his clan over a year ago. The travel and whatever had happened to him had taken quite a toll on the Prince of the Fae. “You found him.”

“Yes,” Darvon answered, his voice a low murmur. “Flynn is a cat shifter. His village, the Fisher Clan, was destroyed by the demons.”

“I’m happy for you. And you, Randall.” Jarrah’s gaze swept past Flynn’s mates to focus on him. “And you, Flynn.”

Flynn felt Randall’s chest move as he mumbled something, but mostly he was enjoying feeling like he was floating. At least this time he wasn’t cold and wet.

Fires bloomed all around him. Intense heat nearly suffocated him. The vampires ran by him at such speeds they seemed to appear and disappear with how fast they moved.

Randall stood still, one arm raised. His other hand was buried in Darvon’s braided hair as he knelt at his feet. “Flynn,” Randall called.

“Flynn,” Darvon beckoned, pointing to the other side of Randall.

What did they need him to do? He didn’t have magick like they did. He wasn’t strong like Timur, the wolf shifters, or the vampires.

“We need you,” they said in unison.

He took a step forward, then stopped, still unsure. Screams ripped through the air, frightening him. Flynn wanted to run far, far away… but his mates… His mates needed him. He couldn’t abandon them.

“Hurry,” they shouted as a ball of flame shot toward them.

“No!” he screamed, leaping into the path of the spell, his body twisting in pain…

He awoke, shaking, wrapped in his mates’ arms. It was dark… so dark…

“Open your eyes, kitten. We’re here. We’re right here. Feel us holding you. You’re safe.”

Randall and Darvon’s whispered pleas and warm embraces filtered through Flynn’s heart-pounding terror. He blinked into the soft light of candles glowing on the bedside tables, drawing in deep gulps of air as he caught his breath.

When he glanced down, Randall’s dark hair filled his vision.

His mate had his forehead pressed to the center of Flynn’s chest. Darvon’s slender arms were wrapped around him from behind, his loose hair spilling over Flynn’s shoulder.

Their heated breaths washed over him, further calming him and pushing the images from the horrific nightmare away.

“You’re safe. We’ve got you,” Randall continued to murmur, unaware that Flynn had woken. Flynn drew him up and caressed Randall’s cheek as they lay facing each other. Darvon kept his arm over them both, maintaining contact, keeping them linked.

Flynn cleared his throat and then struggled to apologize. “Sorry about—”

“No.” Randall pressed a finger to Flynn’s lips. “That wasn’t just a simple nightmare. Have you ever had a vision before?”

Flynn nodded. “A few. Always fleeting, and nothing I took seriously because they were silly things: where to find the best fish or where to search for honey, who would make the best mates among my clan. The strongest ones were of you two. What good are they if they didn’t even show me a vision of the attack? ”

“Your master must have seen, though. He sent you away from the village,” Darvon said between placing small kisses on the back of Flynn’s neck. “He saved you.”

So I could save you.

“Flynn, no,” Randall growled, peering into Flynn’s eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

“I jumped in front of you,” he countered. “If that was a vision…”

Darvon pressed Flynn to the bed, onto his back, leaving him no choice but to look at his mates hovering over him.

“Visions aren’t reliable. They aren’t the truth, nor are they lies.

You must think of them as guides, leading us and others on the right path, but they can also serve as warnings.

Your hesitation… it could be both good or bad.

It could be the moment the tide turns in their favor or in ours.

The correct action lies in your heart and mind, your instinct.

It is not for Randall or me to interpret. ”

Flynn slumped, wishing he could sink into the mattress and hide away from their penetrating gazes.

He wished he’d never had the dream or vision or whatever it was.

He was scared, but as his mates continued to hold him, their arms felt like rings of protection he could hide behind.

Yet, he knew, deep in his soul, that if they needed help, he’d give it.