Page 40 of How to Keep a Fae

The two brothers share an omega mate with another younger brother and a shifter hybrid half-brother. I have rarely met mated omegas, and less so ones that are shared, but there is a relaxed air to the family unit. Sharing a mate is common in these lands. Not so in Sanctum. But I like well the way they interact, the natural way the omega finds subtle ways to make tactile and verbal contact with each mate despite her sitting between the twin brothers at the start… and she has a definite soft spot for the youngest shifter hybrid, Nate.

Not long into the dinner, Bram lifts her onto his lap. Silas claims her for his own lap a short time later with a grunt that makes my lips twitch. Somehow, while still on his lap, she reaches across to run her fingertips over the collar of the gruff middle brother, Dax, sitting to Silas’s right.

His ears turn a deep shade of red.

“Fuck it,” Nate mutters, scraping back his chair. He scoops the omega up and strides back with her to his seat on the other side of Bram.

One of his hands remains under the table. The constant glare Bram sends his way, and the flush to her pretty cheeks suggests the youngest brother has said hand under the silk skirts of their little mate.

I pretend not to notice. My father does the same. The meal is barely over when Nate announces, “Belle is tired. I’ll take her back to our room.”

“So nice to meet you,” Belle calls over Nate’s shoulder as he strides for the door with her in his arms.

“Damn whelp,” Silas mutters as the dining room door bangs shut on her sweet giggles.

Dax scrapes back his chair and, with a distracted nod to us, follows after them.

I drain the last of my wine to hide my smirk.

“Would you like an after-dinner drink?” Bram asks. His brother is glaring at the door.

“We have an early start,” my father says, ever the diplomat.

The relief in Bram and Silas is palpable. A servant is called to show us to our rooms.

The interactions between the brothers and their omega during the meal are still fresh in my mind when we ride out at first light to our destination, Darkmouth.

I miss Adaline.

I miss Jayga, too, the annoying bastard.

I miss how it was that one time when we shared and loved the fae of our hearts.

There is still the problem of him being human, but my mind moves restlessly over scenarios and suppositions. If he took imperial blood for an extended time, it would change him. Any fae blood extends human life to an extent. From my understanding, true longevity would only happen between mates. Still, maybe there must be ways… I don’t know everything.

Hope and melancholy go to war in my mind as they have done often of late. I want something unattainable. Wishing changes nothing. I need to learn to live with what we have.

But Gods, it is hard.

One day, when he dies, as is his human fate.

It will destroy Adaline.

Bram’s papers grant us immediate access to the city and a local guide. The short, portly beta, who goes by the unlikely name of Poet, has a sharp nose and restless eyes.

“Keep yer hoods up, an’ yer ears hidden. The Blighten bastards frequent the less savory parts of t’ city. You’ll draw attention havin’ t’ bearing of alphas, but no one’s likely t’ do more ‘an give yer a wide birth. They see those pointed ears, all bets’ll be off.”

We stable our horses at an inn close to the gatehouse and, heeding Poet’s words of caution, keep our hood up and forward as we spend hours traversing the streets, hoping my father can find a trace.

Late afternoon, he senses something. “What’s in that direction?” he asks our guide.

“The port,” Poet replies.

“They took a ship,” my father says. “The signal is weak.”

That evening, we set sail, our horses stowed in the hold.

I’ve never been on a ship before and spend the first two days puking my guts up. But on the third morning, only a hint of the sickness remains, and I find a form of liberation as I stand on the prow and stare out at the seemingly endless sea. Wood and rigging creak as the ship cuts through the waves. Above, the great sails billow in the wind. The sharp scent of the sea fills my nose. The occasional instruction called between the crew barely intrudes.

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