Page 23 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Trick-or-Treat

EVERETT

Shiny metal, wire, and tools glitter against the gloom of the rough-hewn cabin floor. How many times have I longed for independence—life without a regulator, without being plugged into the network?

I admired apostates and rebels—Sentinels like Torin who saw beyond the xenophobic reach of Command. But now I’m hollowed out, dead, and too alive all at once. Every neuron in me is overloading.

The regulator no longer flickers or sparks. Static hisses through the comm cradle. I’ve never had to manage any of this before—feelings, sensations, emotion. Now I’m fracturing inside the freedom I thought I wanted.

A singular obsession keeps me together: protect Eden. I reach for more circuitry, rerouting, repurposing, crafting another tiny army of drones to guard her.

Then I sense it—far off, distant, an intention. Like the calm of Mother Tree, but coming closer.

Eden. Her resonance ripples through me, aligning every cell toward her like roots bending toward water.

But no. Not yet.

It’s too risky. The Sentinels could trace her, destroy her despite my safeguards, and that would be worse than death—something I can’t even comprehend.

Remorse floods me. Finally … finally, I understand the drive of my hybrid Wildblood cousins to protect their mates and families at all costs.

I command Rook to intercept her. But then, I realize he’s leading her right to me. Against my direct commands. Fear ripples through me.What have I done by liberating the constructs?

“Dammit.” My head drops; a tremor ripples through my skin, light flickering uncontrolled. I don’t want her to see me like this … out of control, emotional. Worse, I can’t bear the thought of her in danger because of me.

I should’ve denied the resonance, ignored it, kept her safe. But even as her presence draws nearer, I know that was never an option.

Dust spirals up the narrow drive to my cabin. She stops, kills the engine, and stares. Despite my best effort, my skin flickers and pulses. It was hard enough controlling my form last night; without the regulator, it’s impossible.

She steps out—pink and pale denim, hand shading her eyes. The morning glints off her scarlet curls, and my pulse fractures into light. Her freckled face is unreadable, lip trembling, brow knit.

Rook clicks and flies around her head, landing on her sleeve and tugging her gently toward me. She doesn’t fight it, and my heart explodes.

“You’re real,” she says.

I step forward, heart detonating at the sight of my mate. No wonder Command forbids this. I can scarcely breathe, let alone think.

Still, I manage, “You came back.”

Then, she’s in my arms, legs wrapped around my waist as her lips cover my face in kisses. The hum magnifies between us before stabilizing. The air thickens; lights flicker in the forest depths. I can breathe again.

“Eden,” I whisper, tears shining for the first time in my life. “You … you…” I stop, steady myself. “Youcan be my regulator now.”

She laughs softly, blinking like she doesn’t quite grasp it. “Only if you can be my sanity.”

“Yes,” I answer without thought. Always.

Her hand presses to my chest; a faint light arcs beneath my skin.

“So it isn’t a costume. It’s real.”

Eden’s mind hovers. I feel the anguish as reality shatters like a jigsaw puzzle tossed into the sky.

I do something I shouldn’t. I push deeper, brush my sense of the world against hers until the fragments align. A sob escapes her lips. Her mind expands—vast, luminous, like traveling through space across light-years.

I feed her knowledge while dampening the pain of it.

She gives me order, mending my chaos into meaning, showing me what to hold, what to surrender, what to feel.

We hang in the space between our breaths, suspended outside time. I wipe her tears.