Page 7 of Saving Destiny

Zosia

As much as it angers me to think Kodi is a consolation prize, Garrett has a valid point. Kodi would have died for nothing if I abandon the safety of the library and allow our enemies access to the magical building. My best friend sacrificed everything to help me escape the hellish dungeon we called home for far too many years. The alpha killed Kodi because he saved me. My best friend had also saved the library, although he didn’t realize it at the time. If I am captured or killed now, his efforts would be wasted.

When the main doors close behind Garrett and Avery, I study Bren, who's rocking back and forth in his chair at the table. His lips move, and I think he’s reciting quotes in Latin. I don’t speak the language, but I recognize a few words from the religious services the orphanage made us attend.

Garrett’s warnings regarding Bren’s magic aren’t a surprise. The younger brother’s energy has appeared chaotic since the moment I met him. In regard to his farseeing abilities and current actions, I can’t fathom the horror of seeing the future or many possible futures. Every seer or prophet I’ve read about eventually went insane because their gifts were also a curse. I don’t want Bren’s magic or abilities to spark madness.

I don't think I've ever comforted anyone except the very little kids at the orphanage who weren't afraid of me. Garrett made it sound simple, and he doesn’t strike me as a soothing presence. If the shifter can console Bren, I should be able to as well. Right?

Although I feel more capable in my sphinx form, I can’t ease Bren with paws and talons. Resigned and a little sad, I shift back into my human form. I’m uncertain whether this is true for all shifters, but my clothes disappear and reappear when I transform. I’m grateful I won’t be naked during any part of the process because I don’t want anyone seeing my body. I wasn’t raised among shifters, and I have a greater sense of modesty … and insecurity. The pain isn’t as intense as my first shift, but I grit my teeth to suppress a whimper when my wings disappear under the scarred flesh of my back.

I realize that I've made a mistake when I’m lying on the wooden floor. I’d been too preoccupied to shift near my wheelchair or my crutches. The latter are leaning against a nearby table and they're too far for me to reach. That doesn’t matter, though. Using my braces to stand without a chair is always a clumsy, nearly impossible task.

Bren's mind must be far away from this place because he doesn’t show any indication that he notices me sprawled across the middle of the floor. I scowl with frustration as I consider my options. I could crawl. I could shift again, but that sounds exhausting.

My eyes nearly roll out of my head when I remember that my new home is magical. Mentally, I ask Sage for my wheelchair; it appears in front of me before I'm finished wording the request. Although I arrived at the library less than a week ago, I’ve grown used to objects appearing and disappearing. The goblins are conspicuously absent. Duggar disappeared quickly after delivering advice to Garrett.

After ensuring the brakes are engaged, I crawl into my chair. My legs will support some of my weight and my arms compensate, but it’s not pretty to watch. I pant with the effort and my face heats with shame, but my only witness doesn’t seem to know I exist. I’m still scolding myself as I settle more comfortably into the wheelchair. After living with my injuries for nearly eight years, I should have been more prepared to shift back.

Fully seated, I release the brakes and propel myself toward Bren. His eyes are screwed shut and his lips continue to move, but he’s not making any sound now. Occasional, neon-blue sparks fly from his skin, fizzling in the air around him. I assume this must be the wild magic Garrett referred to, but I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it. Then again, I don't know much about magic.

My heart thumps nervously as I consider my next move. Even though Bren is utterly lost in his own mind, he’s still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in person. His face belongs on a magazine page or a movie screen.

What if Garrett was wrong? What if his brother lashes out at me? What if I trigger more strange magic and he burns the entire building with blue fire? A physical response is preferable to a magical one. I’ve endured beatings at the orphanage and worse, according to the memories that resurfaced. I just need to prevent his magic from bursting like an atom bomb.

I take a deep breath, hesitantly placing my palm on Bren’s shoulder. The wheelchair restricts my movements, and his body is tucked against the table. I can’t get much closer to him than this.

“Bren?” My voice trembles as I second-guess everything. I don’t feel like I’m the appropriate person to comfort him in this vulnerable state, even though the mage has acted casually toward me since the moment he pushed through the front doors. His attitude reminded me of a close friend returning after a short vacation. Garrett’s explanation that I’ve starred in his brother’s visions for years might explain his familiarity, but it’s hard to believe.

I can’t reconcile that the beautiful man knows me or wants to know me in any way. Are our fates, destinies, or whatever they’re called, unyielding? I’ve heard that some shifters have fated mates, but my hybrid nature doesn’t follow the rules of other supernaturals.

The idea of fated mates sounds strange and unbelievable. What if your fated mate is an asshole or they die before adulthood? Do you get assigned a different one or are you doomed to loneliness?

Before curiosity can overwhelm me, I push the subject into the bottomless pit in my mind. It's already stuffed with questions that require answers, but that's why it's bottomless.

Bren doesn’t startle or otherwise react to my light touch, so I add more pressure and stroke my fingertips down his arm. They tingle in response, but I don’t know if his magic causes the sensation or if it’s something else. His skin is surprisingly hot even under the cloth of his t-shirt sleeve, and the heat increases when I reach bare skin.

I tell myself that I’m checking for a fever and not just looking for an excuse to touch his soft skin. Although he’s not as muscular as his brother, he’s lean and defined. When my fingers curl around his bicep, I realize my urge to touch him feels less than innocent, and I scold my hand as if it's acting on its own. He's barely here at the moment; continuing to touch him would be rude and wrong.

“Bren?” I make my voice louder this time. “Are you all right?” I bite my tongue as soon as the stupid question leaves my mouth. “Frack it. Of course, you’re not all right. I-I’m here ...? Your brother asked me to stay with you.” My explanation sounds weak and pitiful to my ears.

My chest cramps under another stab of pain, but it doesn’t feel stronger than before. I hope this means Kodi is fighting the tether. I want to know what’s going on, but I have to tend to Bren first. Also, the ghost isn’t close enough to the library for the gargoyles to see him, or I’d feel his presence.

“Kodi can’t be caught.”

The abrupt statement snaps me out of trying to search for my guardians. Bren turns his head toward me, and I openly gape at his eyes. Although he’s staring right at me, I doubt he sees me. The usual pale green of his gaze has morphed into something resembling an opal. Pastel, pearlescent colors swirl in his wide irises; his pupils are small and nearly nonexistent. The effect is gorgeous and somewhat disturbing. After he blinks a single time, the strange colors disappear. Although his eyes are normal now, the image stays with me.

Bren twists his body so swiftly that I barely have time to react. He grabs the hand I’d just taken off his arm, and the new position places him much closer to me. His butt has practically slipped off his chair and our legs intertwine. I don’t always use the wheelchair’s footrests because they’re annoying and get in my way when I want to use my feet to propel myself. Their absence allows him to close the distance between us, though. He leans so close that I feel his breath on my face.

“Kodi can’t be caught,” he repeats with intensity and severity.

I barely hear him because I'm concentrating on pulling breath into my lungs. Not only is he invading my personal space, but the tone of his voice suggests the fate of the entire world depends on the four words.

His thighs rest on either side of mine. His knee pushes against the canvas seat of my chair, nearly in my crotch because I’m scooted forward. He’s touching my legs again, and I don’t know what to do. He’s too close … he’s too attractive … he’s speaking words of prophecy, and his magic sparks like popping coals against my skin.

In … out … in …. I take steady, even breaths and sternly remind myself that my best friend is currently fighting for his afterlife. My personal comfort and physical boundaries are not as important as Bren’s words and what's going on. Furthermore, his pretty face should not erase the entire world when he leans close. My body reacts to his nearness despite my stern lecture. I struggle between the fear urging me to push him away and the desire to memorize his features.

I narrow my focus to Bren’s hand clutching mine. It’s an innocent touch. I’ve held hands with other people. Once, I even held the hand of a boy who'd bravely ignored the jeers and jokes thrown at us by his so-called pals. I can do this.

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