Rejection (The Mate Games 2)

ChapterThirty-Four

THORNE

My blood hummed with unease as I abandoned the book I’d been reading for the third time in as many minutes. I was anxious, restless, my thoughts racing. I hadn’t seen Sunday, nor had I heard from her since she left to be with Kingston days ago. I could’ve gone to check in, but Alphas were notoriously edgy when they were vulnerable, and Sunday didn’t need the added stress of dancing around our egos while worrying about her mate. And if I set aside my own desires enough to be objective, the two of them needed space alone to deal with what happened.

I let out a heavy breath, raking my hand through my hair and working to calm my pounding heart. Closing my eyes, I reached out to my mate with my mind, needing some kind of connection to her, if only for a moment. We’d already been parted for far too long once before, and I wasn’t strong enough to go through that willingly again.

Even knowing the cost of my selfishness.

My sister Roslyn had chosen to give up her freedom in place of my own. The Donoghues had insisted on a Blackthorne alliance or my death, and they’d gotten what my family thought the lesser of two evils. But instead of me marrying Callista—I refused to let my aunt Callie’s name be attached to that creature—I’d killed her, and now it was Rosie shackled to their oldest son Gavin. The sweet lamb didn’t stand a chance in that den of vipers. She was too pure for their darkness. More human than the rest of us, never changed, never fed. And because of my love for Sunday, she’d be their prey.

I’d made my decision, and there was no going back.

My soul craved hers. Nearly as much as my body.

Sunday’s awareness brushed against mine, bringing with it the scent of pine and cool night air. She was outside. Alone. At risk.

Straightening, I dropped my book on the sofa and got to my feet before I began pacing.

Should I go to her? Would she welcome me?

Annoyed with myself, I scowled. When the hell had I ever cared about such things? I’d accompanied her on moonlit strolls more than once without her knowledge. First because I was curious, then because I was hunting her. Now? Because I bloody loved her.

Snagging my heavy black peacoat, I shrugged it on. Not that I was cold, but if I knew Sunday, she’d escaped outside on instinct without a care for the unusually cold December weather.

Now that I had a plan of action, my unease settled. It was as if the promise of seeing her again was all I needed to feel whole. Or at least as close to whole as I could be without her in my arms.

I barely registered my own movements as I blurred to the stairs, forgoing the elevator in favor of speed. In mere moments I’d reached her proximity, keeping myself out of her line of sight until I was sure she wanted me.

She stood as she often did at the side of the lake, her face tipped up to the night sky, eyes closed as a light dusting of snow drifted over her cheeks. It was an enchanting sight. Something an artist would choose to immortalize with their paints. Innocence and sensuality. The untamed wild. Beauty in its purest, rawest form.

I almost didn’t take that step forward into the moonlight simply because I didn’t want to disturb such a peaceful moment, but then she shuddered and her breath hitched.

She was crying.

My feet moved of their own accord, drawing me closer. I couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer. Not when I was there and could offer her comfort.

She flinched at the feel of my hands on her shoulders, then instantly relaxed. “Noah.”

Taking off my coat, I wrapped it around her, cocooning her in its warmth and my scent. Staking my claim even as I cared for her. That might make me a bit of a selfish bastard, but then I never pretended to be otherwise.

“What are you doing out here all alone? There are demons afoot, you know.”

She let out a light laugh, but there wasn’t any real amusement in her tone. “Afoot? Is this a Victorian romance now? Or are you playing at being my very own Sherlock Holmes?”

“We do have a mystery to solve together. Although I don’t imagine those stories were intended to have such intimate moments as the ones you and I share.”

She leaned back into me, resting her head on my chest and taking a long shuddering breath.

“How is Kingston? Is it bad?” I asked, wrapping her in my arms.

“It was touch and go there for a while, but he finally woke up today. I... I think he’s going to make it.”

Her uncertainty gave me pause. “Is he not healing?”

“He can’t shift, and the demon’s claws contained some kind of poison. It’s been slow going, even with his supernatural blood. It’ll be weeks, maybe longer, before he’s back to normal.”

“Have you gone to the headmistress with this? If word gets out to the Families, they’ll rake her over the coals. She should lift the ban if only so he can heal.”