Page 19 of Fated Exile

"Just put your head down, and let the rest follow." His chest rumbles against my back, strong and sure. "Here—I'll even help you to your bed."

"Oh?" Tilting my chin up, I meet his brown eyes and smirk. "Here I thought you were noble for offering to bring me home after a long night. In reality, you just wanted to slip in a little private moment before the Summit tomorrow. Are you jealous that Roarke is going to be named alpha?"

"You know that's not what makes me jealous." His brows draw together, even as warmth dances in those eyes of his. "Every alpha needs a mate. We may not have discussed it much, but all of us know that Roarke will turn to you. And I don't imagine that you'll turn him down."

"You don't know that."

"I know the way you look at him Delilah. And it's okay. You deserve to find your place in the pack, and if Roarke is alpha, he can give you that."

Assuming, of course, that the pack goes along and accepts us both. A hurdle to overcome that I'm not prepared to think about right now.

"We talked about it briefly, in case John didn't go along with things. Roarke thought I'd be able to make him give us his blood. I couldn't, and Roarke agreed that he'll become alpha so we can try to save the pack... I know that he'll be expected to take a mate right away. But I wanted to discuss it with the rest of you before tomorrow."

"Honestly, I'm trying not to dwell on it too much," Lance says, reaching down to twine his fingers with mine. "I know we all agreed that it was for the best Roarke become alpha, but that doesn't mean I have to be thrilled at the thought of him being your mate."

Swallowing, I murmur, "The last hybrid we know about had four mates."

Lance's hands tighten against mine, and he concedes, "An excellent idea, if you ask me."

"I agree."

I twist around and shift up onto my tiptoes so I can slip my mouth against his, leaning up against Lance's chest. His warmth suffuses me, his strong hands drawing me against him as he steals my breath with his mouth. A little of the exhaustion in my bones is chased away from the thrill of tasting him.

The moment, of course, is interrupted. A crash startles me, and I draw back to realize that one or both of us dropped my keys. Sighing, I bend down to pick them up—and freeze, blinking at the darkness pooled at our feet.

Bright blue threads twist between us, swirling and active. They curl around each other and knot in a few places. As I draw the keys towards me, some of them come along happily like prancing dogs, and when I straighten up they swirl around the air between us.

Raising a dark brow, Lance murmurs, "So that wasn't just in my imagination."

"There are so many of them." I place my hand on his chest, and marvel at the buck and twist of threads beneath my fingers. "They're so... bright and blue. I wonder if it means something."

Studying me, he drops a kiss on my forehead. "It means that you should get some sleep. Whatever else can wait—including plans for the Summit, and... the mating ceremony."

Swallowing, I lick my lips and tell him, "I don't want to hurt anyone. Roarke needs to be alpha so we can summon the elders and save the pack, but after that, I don't... well, I don't know how it works, but there's no reason why we can't figure something out."

"Of course," Lance says tightly, though I can tell he's thinking what I am: that it's one thing for me to date multiple males while unmated, and would be unheard of to do so if I become the alpha's mate. I refrain from looking into his mind to confirm what he's thinking. "Let me help you inside. I did say I would, after all."

He's subdued as he leads me down the hallway, his arm on my elbow even though I don't really need the support. My night vision, far better now that I have my wolf form, helps me even in the darkened back half of the house. Once I'm at my bedroom door, Lance drops a kiss—not on my lips, but on my cheek, before he drops his hand from mine and walks away.

Watching him go, I find myself swaying on my feet towards him. Without his strength near me, I suddenly feel much, much weaker—and so tired that about the only thing I can do is peel my shoes off before I face-plant in my bed, exhaustion overtaking me. Though the bed feels cold and strange at first, soon enough I find myself drifting off into sleep.

And I'm not alone.

* * *

There's a dignity to her. She carries herself with her shoulders back and her chin high. As she approaches me, her form subtly glowing with silver light, I can't help but think of the moment I saw her spirit as I dragged a spelled John deLance to her statue. All she did was shake her head and I felt the weight of her disapproval.

"Vivia."

She nods, her movements slow, almost as if she's suspended in time.

"How?" I take a step towards her, but in this dream world, I don't get any closer to her. She remains just as far away as she was from the start. "I thought we had to spill blood to wake you. If we don't, then why haven't you appeared before?"

Her brows furrow. Holding out her hands, she beckons towards me. Then she turns around and walks into the dark mist at her back—dark mist that surrounds me in every direction, though my senses tell me that I'm in a strange, dream-like version of the pack's woods.

I rush towards her silvery form, frightened that I'll lose sight of her.

And instead of remaining in the dream world, I wake up all at once.

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