Page 36 of Snag (Conduit #2)

“Sometimes … the universe moves me.” I flick my eyes between his blue-green orbs, looking for understanding in their depths.

“Was that the case with Presh?”

I flush. “Well … I made that happen.”

“Exactly.”

I poke him in the chest, then ruin the gesture by smoothing my hand over the same point, luxuriating in simply being able to touch him.

“You lose some of yourself when you die, Zaya,” Rought says, voice low. “What is the point of having three soul-bound mates if not to stop that from happening as much as possible?”

I nod, murmuring, “As much as possible …” just to acknowledge what he’s saying to me.

He hesitates for a breath, actually dropping his gaze.

“You … don’t believe me?” I whisper.

“No, it’s not that. I know you’ll always do what you think is best, but … I … we need to have a conversation about Reck.”

‘Three soul-bound mates,’ Rought said while trying to fortify his position. But now he’s rethinking that statement.

“My relationships,” I say, “or lack thereof, or bond or connections, or whatever you want to call them, are for me to navigate.”

“I know,” he says. “Always. I just don’t think … ”

“I was there,” I say, not certain why my back is up about it at all. “I saw Reck with Bellamy in the hotel hallway. I know he’s with the Authority. I understand he’s not the same kind of asshole as Rath. And you, supposedly.”

Rought scrubs a hand over his face, leaning back in his seat to stare out the front window. “I still don’t fucking believe it.”

“That Bellamy’s your half-sister?”

“Fuck me, no.”

“She could be Reck’s twin.” Silence falls between us. The rain picks up. But even as I realize I’m getting cold, Rought settles his hand on my thigh again.

“Ironically, a blood connection will make Bellamy easier to locate,” I muse.

“Especially if she shares DNA from two sources with Reck. Harlee, Cayley’s mage, can probably do it.

She’ll need to collect the sample directly from Reck.

And I’d suggest she doesn’t cast alone. Gigi might be coerced to hold a protection circle.

Bellamy is powerful … even I’m not certain what she’s capable of.

In fact, it might not be a good idea to try to use a blood-based spell against her at all. Something to discuss with the mages …”

I glance over at Rought.

He’s just gazing at me.

“What?”

He shakes his head, then shrugs. “I like you.”

“That’s good,” I say. “Because I’m fairly certain that we’re bonded on so high a level that it might really hurt you to get rid of me now.”

“I know you’re joking … but … don’t, Zaya. I can’t lose you again.”

I press my hand over his on my thigh. “Sorry.” My own heart aches at even the mere thought of hurting him. “I can’t imagine … ”

“Don’t,” he says roughly, squeezing my thigh. “Don’t try. Just stay here with me.”

“I will avoid dying as much as possible.”

Rought looks at me hard then, nothing playful or charming in the expression.

And even though he’s seriously calling me out about my lack of self-preservation — which I’m only aware of because it was previously pointed out by Coda — I don’t blame him for it.

His being hard with me, if only with a single look, if only for this moment, makes me fall for him just a little bit more.

“I like you too,” I say, instead of all the other things that want to tumble out of my mouth, out of my mind. The adult me is still holding myself back from the past unveiled in Mack’s photos. The adult me is still unsure that the Conduit is a person capable of loving and being loved.

Rought’s gaze drops to my lips, and when those eyes flick up to meet mine, they’re once again warm and welcoming. “I’m yours.”

The words resonate through me, as if he’s sent them telepathically as well as voicing them.

He straightens, grinning. “I’ll need a full report about what exactly went on with the gryphon …”

Because , he continues in my head, I’m pretty certain I couldn’t reach you like this when I fell asleep.

“That’s between the gryphon and me,” I say, feigning haughtiness. Then I focus on sending my next words along the shimmering bond that now stretches between us. That thread is still thin, but embedded deeply. But you obviously get to reap the benefits.

Maybe a … demonstration?

That could be arranged.

He laughs out loud even as his amusement, his pure joy, filters through to me. It feels as if it curls around my heart, and for a moment, I struggle with the grief that rises in response. Over how alone I’ve been, and with no chance to even know it.

“Zaya?”

“I need to call Harlee,” I say, covering my pity party by reaching into my bag for my phone.

I’m still ridiculously pleased at having my unlabeled designer bag back, along with a favorite pair of sunglasses.

Maybe being just a little self-centered, a little indulgent, comes naturally to me.

“Coda might need some help locating Bellamy. And the sooner she’s neutralized, the more time we’ll have for … demonstrations.”

Rought laughs again, reaching for the phone he’s already got propped on the dash and going along with the subject change even as he clearly sees it for what it is. “I got it.”

“The mage is on my retainer,” I say, just a little stiffly. Because I’m apparently still a loner asshole at my core.

Rought throws me a knowing look. “And who the fuck do you think I work for now?”

His phone vibrates with an incoming call even as he picks it up. He swipes the screen to answer before I can come up with a response to what I’m fairly certain wasn’t a question.

“You’d better not be fucking on the side of the fucking road,” Rath growls through the phone speakers. “I want these answers.”

One of those delicious shivers that apparently only Rath can trigger — even while being a complete asshole over the phone — runs up my spine.

Rought side-eyes me knowingly.

I’m fairly certain the nascent psychic bond between us is way more open on his end .

Holding Rought’s gaze intently, I lean toward the phone and drawl, “I’m game if you are.”

A choked silence emanates over the speakers.

I tilt my head playfully — for Rought, because Rath can’t see me. “You like to watch, don’t you, dragon?”

Rath groans over the phone speakers. “Fuuuck …!”

Then he hangs up.

Spinning the wheel and tapping the accelerator to get us back on the road, Rought chuckles, both pleased and amused.

“What?” I say like a total brat. “Am I wrong?”

The Outcast MC compound sprawls across a thickly wooded estate set with multiple outbuildings.

We navigate a long circular drive that leads to the main house, with a large industrial-looking structure that I presume is a garage and workshop on the far left.

Rought stops alongside the front entrance.

Of post-and-beam construction, the massive main house is clad in grayed cedar siding.

The plentiful wood-framed windows are in need of a new coat of finish.

Multiple gray-wood-railed balconies hang across the front face of the house, as if every room needs its own outdoor space.

I have no doubt those railings are scarred with claw marks from years of shifters not bothering with doors and hallways, preferring the two-storey jump.

I can hear the ocean when I exit the truck, leaving my bag but actually remembering to take my phone, but the sound of the surf is faint.

Breathing deeply of the misty, woodsy air, and feeling just a little bit lighter without the intersection point roiling under every footstep, I stretch my senses around me.

I’m surprised to find that the bottomless well of the intersection point still simmers at the edge of my reach, with no need to stretch farther for it.

With the estate twenty minutes up the coast to the north, that power feels much closer than the drive would have suggested.

With my senses so open, I also note that the main pack house isn’t filled with as many shifters as I expected, given its sheer size.

“Does this property abut my estate?” I ask Rought as he steps around the truck to join me. I remember at the last moment that it is my estate now, not my aunt’s. Though we didn’t pass through it, I’m fairly certain that Newport is north of us, between the two estates.

“Outcast territory encircles the Gage estate,” Rath says before Rought can answer. The dragon shifter crosses to join us from the garage, where he’s presumably parked his motorcycle out of the rain.

Rath is wearing his full cut, including his patched leather jacket, which makes me realize that Rought is still in jeans and a long-sleeved gray henley. Even though we’re heading in for an audience with the president of his motorcycle club, who also happens to be the head of his mixed-clan pack.

That mixed-clan designation makes even more sense now that I know it includes a gryphon, a celestial dragon, and a cu-sith. As well as an exceedingly rare kitsune, Cayley, and a pegasus, Doc Z. Plus the marine shifters, Piston and Pepper.

The buttons undone at Rought’s neck offer a generous peek at the tattoos literally feathering up his neck. Which makes me think of the gryphon. Again. And more specifically, of our bonding session in the dark of the early morning.

The memory makes me flush like an utter idiot. And lose my train of thought.

Rought chuckles under his breath, ghosting his hand over my back to direct me toward the house and out of the misty rain. He can clearly sense my shift in focus through our new connection. Or rather, our amped-up connection.

“The beaches connect from here to the estate,” Rought says. “That’s how we came to you when we were too young to drive. It’s more direct along the coastline than coming by road. Not that Reck wasn’t up to stealing any vehicle he could lay hands on, even at age twelve.”

Striding ahead of us, and radiating tension that I know has nothing to do with me — for once — Rath all but pulls the carved wooden door off its reinforced hinges.