Page 7 of What the Hex

“Does he not usually?”

“Oh, he does. He’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. A little excitable maybe, but utterly selfless.”

Storm frowned. Granted, they had just met, but excitable was the last word he would use to describe his mate.

“It’s just…” Oliver trailed off and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“What?” True, it would be better to hear it from King, but he would take whatever help he could get.

Oliver shook his head. “Maybe it’s nothing, but he seems different lately. Kind of…”

“Sad?” he supplied.

“I was going to say quiet, but yeah. Sad.”

“And he hasn’t said anything about why?”

The elf shook his head again. “Not a word. Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

Storm wasn’t arrogant enough to think the guy would open up to him—a virtual stranger—when he refused to reveal his problems to his own friends. Then again, the magical bond between them defied logic, so maybe the idea wasn’t that farfetched. Either way, it wouldn’t stop him from trying.

And if he found out that someone had hurt his sweet mate, may the goddess have mercy on them because he sure as hell wouldn’t.

Chapter three

King felt like he was doing a decent job of keeping it together on the outside. On the inside, however, he was completely losing his shit.

He had a mate! Not just any mate, either, but Storm fucking Black!

When Skye had assigned him to be Storm’s assistant, it had literally been the best thing to ever happen to him. In his mind, nothing could top it, not even if he lived to be a hundred.

Then, only a few hours later, he’d been proven wrong in the best way possible.

He just wished he knew what had caused his luck to change so he could continue doing it. Nothing came to mind, though. As far as he could tell, his life had been as routine as ever until that morning.

Holy hell, Storm was even more gorgeous in person. Tall and muscular, with a dewy olive complexion and dazzling gray eyes, he captivated by doing nothing more than breathing. Even dressed in baggy jeans with a thin stocking cap covering his dark locks, he looked positively edible.

Despite his momentary display of possessiveness, he actually seemed like a nice guy, too. Although King had felt drawn to him from the moment their eyes had met, he’d chalked it up to being star struck.

He couldn’t begin to fathom how intense their meeting must have been for Storm.

He hadn’t been afraid, though, and despite Damien’s concern, Storm hadn’t hurt him. Yes, he’d been startled when the shifter had grabbed him, worried he’d done something wrong and screwed up his assignment already. Once he’d understood what was happening, he’d just felt confused.

At that point, he’d firmly believed that fate had made the mistake. It was the only thing that made sense because in no universe, alternate or otherwise, did someone like him end up with someone like Storm Black.

Finished confirming their reservation for later that evening, he took a deep breath, pasted on a bright smile, and went to rejoin his mate. Damn, that sounded weird.

“Okay, all set. Are you ready to see your room?”

Storm swept his arm out in a vague gesture. “After you.”

He led the way to the elevators, wracking his brain for something to say. Nothing came to him. Instead, they rode up to the third floor in silence, and not a comfortable one, either. Every time a question would pop into his mind, he would dismiss it just as quickly, worried he would sound lame or ridiculous.

Desperate to fill the quiet, he even considered bringing up the weather. Thankfully, the elevator slowed to a stop with a quiet ding before he could form the words.

“Is this weird?” Storm asked as they exited the cab. “This feels weird. I have no idea what to say.”

“Oh, thank god.” He chuckled in relief as the tension melted out of his shoulders. “I was thinking the same thing.”

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