Page 116 of Savage Fate

My breaths came in erratic pants as I searched the space with tan walls and rustic built-in bookshelves. A guitar leaned in one corner, and a stack of wood sat in front of the crackling fireplace.

I’d seen the very place before in the short vision I’d had of Saint’s fear of never finding his fated mate.

Ha! He probably wished he never had now.

The alpha slowly sat up and showed his palms. “Just calm down, Tate.”

A ruby haze speckled the edges of my vision. “Don’t tell me to calm down!” I jerked back as he tried to reach for me, and my body teetered toward the floor.

Saint snatched my arm and hauled me back to safety before I fell on my ass. “Fane asked me to bring you here.”

“Did he tell you to put me in your damn bed?” I highly doubted that.

“Yes.”

My head snapped back, and I might have tumbled off the bed again if Saint wasn’t still gripping my arm. “Why would he do that?”

“I’ve been trying to heal you and smother your addiction to the Infernal Sol.”

I rapidly blinked as his words sank in. “What do you mean?”

He arched one eyebrow. “Don’t you remember our conversation about my parents in Silver Ridge’s archives? When The Collective Hunt poisoned my mom, my dad was able to eventually heal her because they’re fated mates.”

“But I’m claimed to someone else.”

Saint shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Our mystical connection still exists.”

Numbness crawled through my limbs, and my shoulders slumped as the realization hit me. Saint had been healing me since I showed up in Blackwater Falls after falling off that cliff. That was why the effects of the Infernal Sol had waned while I was here and returned when I left.

Fane had known it.

And that wasn’t all. This was why Fane left me here when he went to Illyria and why he didn’t have a problem with Saint hanging around Mohan Wilds recently.

What the ever-loving hell!

I raked my fingers through my long, tangled strands of berry-red hair. Why hadn’t Fane told me?

Probably because I was stubborn and would have refused any contact with Saint.

“I had another vision,” I muttered, trying not to let my anger cloud my thoughts. I needed to get the details out. “The Collective was chanting in a demon language.”

“I know.” Saint dragged his hand down his face. “Fane was pulled into your vision this time. He saw everything.”

My chest ached from the feel of having my heart cut out but also from Fane’s absence. Why wasn’t he here when I needed him?

“Where is he?” I hated the shake to my voice.

“He’s on the way.” Saint jerked his chin toward the nightstand on my side. “He sent you a text.”

Oh, a text. Wow. How thoughtful of him.

I snatched my phone and opened the text.

I’m on the way. You have every right to be pissed, and when you see me, feel free to punch me a few times. I wouldn’t have asked Saint to take you home if I didn’t believe he could help. The thought of him touching you sends me into a murderous rage. But I’d rather be angry if it means you feel better.

I’m bringing something that might give us some answers about The Collective. In the meantime, let Saint heal you as much as possible. But remind him that you’re mine. If he tries anything, he’s a dead man.

“Are you okay?” Saint asked, pulling my attention from my phone. “I know you’re upset that he?—”

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