Page 17 of Dewitched

For almost three decades, he had lived at Nightstar Palace. In the beginning, he had been a member of the queen’s Guard, and it had been one of the greatest privileges of his career. When Queen Rowena had come to him and offered him the position of chief Guardian to her unborn daughter, he had been flattered beyond measure.

Since the day of her birth, he had rarely been away from her, and in that time, their relationship had blossomed into something much more than mere duty. She was family, like a bratty little sister he enjoyed indulging. The same could also be said for the other Guardians.

He’d been given the chance to hand-pick his own Guard, and he had never regretted his choices. Unlike Prince Orrin, Iliana’s protection team had never changed. No one had left. No one had been replaced.

To be fair, the high turnover wasn’t Orrin’s fault, but he had earned the reputation of an unwitting—and unwilling—matchmaker. So many members of his Guard had found their mates, some only a few weeks after being in his service. There had been one memorable instance of a Guardian finding his mate the same day as his arrival.

Even random staff members who interacted with him had started falling victim to fate, making Orrin the butt of more than a few jokes. As such, Fenix hadn’t blamed him when he’d run off to the Underworld with his own mate. Naturally, the teasing hadstill continued, but in reality, everyone at the palace had been thrilled for him.

Just like Fenix knew everyone would be happy for him when they learned of Owen. Then he’d never see them again.

He didn’t want to leave. It was a selfish desire, and one he would never voice to anyone else, but there it was. Protocol, however, demanded it, and he understood why.

A few prerequisites existed for Guardians. First and foremost, they had to come from a special mixed lineage of shifters and magic users which made them nigh on indestructible. The second, equally important trait the Ministry of Otherling Affairs looked for was the absence of meaningful connections.

No parents. No siblings. No love interests. Not even best friends were allowed. To be an effective Guardian, nothing and no one could come before the safety and wellbeing of their charges. If that changed, well, so did their employment status.

He could probably find placement in another branch of MOA. A standard guard felt like a step down, but an Investigator might be fun. Maybe he could find a job training other Guardians. As luck would have it, he had a few connections that could probably make that happen.

Luckily, he had the remainder of the week to figure it out. With that in mind, he reverted to his default and told himself he’d worry about it later. It didn’t really help. Even the constant patter of rain against the roof and the occasional crash of thunder couldn’t distract him from his tangled emotions.

Okay, maybe it distracted him a little. Mostly because he hoped to hell it would stop raining before they traveled to the city in the morning. He also realized he hadn’t invited Owen to join them. To him, it had been a given that his mate would go where he went, but in hindsight, that might have been a little highhanded.

Besides, he wouldn’t blame Owen for bowing out of a day of shopping. The gods knew he wasn’t looking forward to it, but having Owen there would make it, at the very least, tolerable.

Still working on a suitable argument to convince his mate to accompany him, he almost missed the soft knock on his door. A quick glance at the bedside clock showed almost two o’clock in the morning.

If it had been someone from his team, they wouldn’t have been so polite. Hotel staff perhaps? But why would they come calling at that time of night? Maybe some drunk patron had gotten lost and ended up at the wrong door.

Frowning, he rolled out of bed, grabbed his sweats from the end of the mattress, and tugged them on before crossing the short distance. Before he could check through the window to find out who was standing on his porch, the sweet scent of lemons and vanilla hit him like a wrecking ball.

Confusion quickly morphed to concern as he jerked the door open to find Owen dripping onto the wooden planks. Despite the short walk, the heavy rain had completely soaked him, and his bare feet were an angry red from the cold.

“Hi,” he said through chattering teeth. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry. I don’t really know, but I was wondering if maybe—”

Another crack of thunder rent the night air, and Owen screwed his eyes closed and ducked his head as his entire body went stiff.

His heart hurting, Fenix took him by the arm and ushered him across the threshold. It soothed something inside him when Owen immediately stepped into his embrace and snuggled against him.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I’m not so great with storms.”

“None of that. I said you could come to me whenever you need me, and I meant it.”

“Can I stay with you tonight? I can sleep on the floor.”

He would do no such thing, but they’d argue about it once he was dry and warm. “Come on. Let’s find you something to wear.”

Owen immediately jerked away, his eyes wide in the moonlight that filtered through the part in the curtains.

Okay, not the reaction he’d expected. “Owen?”

“I’m getting you all wet.”

Fenix snorted as he pulled him back into his arms. “I literally couldn’t care less.”

“Good,” Owen sighed. “Gods, you’re so warm.”

They were going to have an entirely different kind of problem if the guy didn’t stop rubbing against him like that. His brain recognized the request for comfort, but his body clearly wasn’t getting the message.

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