Page 46 of Mated Exile

"Of course." He says the words more quickly than I expected, giving me a sharp, confident nod. "The only reason why I even called in an outsider was because the alternative was death. If you being a hybrid means you can fix this, then I'm all for it."

Lance speaks up. "Did you learn something about your nature, Delilah? Do we have a reason to believe that a hybrid will be able to undo the curse? Other witches have tried, and failed."

"I've found a few things," I tell them, taking a deep breath. "Last night, I read the journal Niall gave me. I discovered a few things inside—mostly about how wolf-witch hybrid magic works. There are some things I need to learn, with a bit of help, but I think I'll be able to undo the curse."

Kieran says, "I'll help you, if you think what I know could be any good. My aunt—my father's sister, not Queenie—was a witch, and she taught me a few things."

I give him a grateful smile. "I'd love to know anything you might've learned from her, or what she might have to say. The magic I need to learn is mostly about the pack, and our connection to each other as well as the land. There are books on it, and I know a few witches are sometimes paid to walk the land and work the ancient spells, but most of the knowledge is oral."

"As soon as this is over, I'll find out what she knows."

Kieran seems grateful to have something to do, and I can see something in his eyes, a glimmer of light that hasn't been there since I returned to town, maybe has been missing for years now. There's a freshness to him, and I'm realizing with a pang of my heart that it's sobriety. I watch him for a moment, that awareness inside me rippling out—and I almost immediately pull it back with a wince.

He might not show it on the surface, but inside of him is a deep, black pit. It's a hole, one where the mate bond should be. I've felt an echo of it in other members of the pack, but in most it's a scarred-over wound or a shadow of pain. Kieran's intended died while they were in the process of creating a bond; the Mating Circle ceremony opened him wide, and nothing entered the spot where the bond was supposed to be. Now, like a black pit, it's grown and festered, consuming his very spirit with its darkness.

I want nothing more than to put my hand on his chest and chase the pain away, but I resist the urge. Closing my awareness off, I focus on the present in front of me, and my eyes naturally settle and meet Lance's gaze. There's a strength to him, a calm self-assuredness that soothes me. Gathering some of that strength around myself, I take a deep breath before I say the next thing on my mind.

"I know this is a bit awkward, but it's not going to come as a surprise when I tell the four of you that I'm attracted to you." Wincing, I imagine how Cat would've phrased that, and can only hope she's less stilted and awkward with her abundance of lovers than I'm being right now. "Since the Summit is in less than two weeks, and I want to cure the land by then, there's a chance that afterwards, I'll have a place in this pack. I'll be able to join it."

Finn is watching me intently; meeting his eyes, I resist the urge to echo his smirk. My gaze travels to Roarke next, and I feel his yearning and longing, so cleverly hidden.

In the clearest voice I can muster, I tell them all, "When I become a member of the pack, I want a mate. At least one. Maybe more. But I don't have four years with an intended to cement a bond—I have less than two weeks. So, to speed things up, I was hoping the four of you would agree to spend the next two weeks getting to know me. At the same time. With your permission."

Wincing at the words as they spill out of me, I lick my lips and awkwardly stare out towards the rising sun. It feels like a thousand seconds pass before someone speaks up, but of course it's more like a single heartbeat.

"Dollface, you're going to have to clarify," Finn says with a wicked grin, "are you wanting to date around, or is this your way of proposing we have an orgy?"

Twenty

Delilah

Ipractically choke on my own embarrassment. "Just dating! I'm not—I didn't think anyone would want to—I mean, I don't even know where everything would... go."

"I think Cat could help out with that," Finn says, and the heat in my cheeks grows so much I'm sure I'm about to catch on fire. "Or we could get a whiteboard and brainstorm a few things. Of course, it always goes better if at least two of the men are willing to get a little creative. Say, Roarke, I know you love Kieran—"

"No." Roarke is absolutely straight-faced, his expression making it clear that he's considering strangling the absolute life out of Finn. "Donotsay what I think you're about to say, and never, ever proposition that again."

In a choked-up voice Kieran sputters, "Like a brother! We love each other likebrothers."

"The kind of brothers who—"

"You motherfucker." Stalking across the porch, Roarke glares at a smirking Finn—and gets stopped by Lance before he can get too close, though I get the sense that he might push right past him. "I swear to god, if you don't shut that smart mouth of yours for at least a few seconds, I'll find a way to shove your dick up your own ass."

Finn stares at him for a moment. Then says appreciatively, "That's one creative way to conduct an orgy."

I need to sit down. Unfortunately for me, there's nowhere to do that on the front porch, since the Adirondack chairs that came with the house are being repainted in the backyard by Bastian right now.

"I hate you sometimes," Roarke says, narrowing his eyes at Finn. He takes a deep breath, and suddenly smirks, the expression lighting up his summer-blue eyes. "Didn't you and Delilah go out last night?"

"Yes." Finn frowns as Roarke slips past Lance, walks over, and stands in front of him, his extra inch or two of height suddenly towering. "What's gotten into you? Look, man, I'm sorry I suggested that you might be interested in fucking your best friend. Though if you ask me it's not that big of a deal."

"I was just thinking something." Roarke takes in another deep breath, and his smirk grows, which only seems to unsettle Finn. "And then I was smelling something. Or the lack of something, I suppose you might say."

Lance seems just as confused as me, until Roarke's words hit, and suddenly I feel myself blushing. As the tall blond smirks down at Finn, suddenly the latter gets flustered, pointedly looking everywhere but at me.

"Look, man, stop smelling people."

"I can sense it too," he says, and I feel a surge of warmth around me, the pulse of Roarke's presence in the air. His eyes dance as he stares down at Finn and declares, "Delilah's scent isn't on you at all. You took her out, but you didn't take her home. Which means the rest of us have a chance, no matter what you might say."

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