Page 71 of Alpha Exile

I make a second slice, then push down on the edges of cut-open skin. Blood gushes out as I force the two Spirit Eyes to the surface and snatch them out of Roarke's body. He twists once more beneath Kieran's grip, then goes slack, and the cuts start to slowly knit back together.

Scrambling to my feet, I rush over to the sink, where I wash the stones, my fingers, and the blood off. Red swirls down the sink drain as I gulp in air. Fingers shaking, I set the dagger on the countertop.

It takes me three long, deep breaths to turn around and look at Roarke.

Kieran has let go of him and is standing a foot away, staring in breathless silence just like me. I think both of us are afraid to speak, to ask anything, to do much more than blink at him and wait.

After a long moment, Kieran flicks the light on.

This seems to do something, because Roarke twitches. His muscles tense, his bound hands opening and closing in the air. Slowly, he sits up, staring down at the restraints, his face slightly slack.

I reach towards the mate bond, afraid of what I'm going to find.

Roarke jerks to his feet as I brush against it, his eyes going straight to my face.

And a low, menacing growl leaves his throat.

Twenty-Nine

Delilah

"Roarke?" My voice cracks uncertainly. I reach towards the mate bond, which is thin and fragile still. I can feel him, but that's about it—I don't know if he'shimselfagain. "Is that—is that you?"

Instead of answering, he twists his arms in the makeshift restraints, snorts disdainfully, and tears them apart. The bedsheet flutters towards the ground, followed by the towel, which rips beneath his strong fingers.

And—yes, heisstill aroused, though far less than before. I swallow, swaying on my feet, uncertain what I should do if he approaches me again.

If I mate with him, will he return to himself, becoming the Roarke I once knew? Or will I just be letting him violate me? Worse—will I be violatinghim,because he's not even fully himself right now?

Shockingly, I don't get the chance to answer that philosophical question. Moments after he's torn the cloth off his body again, Roarke looks around aimlessly, and settles his gaze on Kieran.

With a growl, he stalks towards him in a single step, reach out, and cups his hand around his crotch.

Kieran yelps—I nearly do too. Shocked, I feel through the mating bonds that Kieran is a little aroused, growing as Roarke touches him harder. The erection between Roarke's thighs is hardening as well—undeniable blood pooling towards it.

"Roarke, buddy?" Kieran's voice is just slightly strained. His eyes meet mine over Roarke's shoulder, as I try to figure out what's going on, and what should be done about it. "Is that—is that you?"

Roarke growls again, lighter this time. In a low voice he murmurs, "I can smell your arousal."

I feel something loosen in my chest, even as something else tightens. He can speak, at least, though I still don't know if this istrulyhim.

"Who is it for?"

Kieran blinks at this question, shifting his weight towards the balls of his feet, then wincing as Roarke cups him more tightly. After a long, tense moment, he haltingly admits, "It was a little hard, sitting on your naked body for so long, not to get a little bit turned on."

Cocking his head at this, Roarke follows up with the question, "So it's for me?"

There's a slight growl in his voice, and it takes me a long, delirious moment to realize that it was desire all along, not anger or rage. Taking a few slow steps forward, I reach a trembling hand towards Roarke's back, and relax as I feel his muscles unwind beneath my touch.

This close, I can feel him through the mate bond.Him.And only him, though a very loose, uninhibited him, freed so completely from the possession in his mind that there seems to be nothing holding him back.

Including propriety, among other things.

"Y—yes?" Kieran answers Roarke's question slowly, his body still tense. "It's—it's for you, Roarke. But it's okay if you don't feel the same."

A few long moments pass, during which I can feel palpable nervousness radiate from Kieran. I don't know what scares him more: the thought that this isn't Roarke, or the thought that it is.

Wanting to be closer to both of them, I wind my arms around Roarke's waist from behind, pressing against him. He smells like sweat, dirt, and blood, both old and new, but he reaches down with his free hand to grab my fingers and squeeze them comfortingly.

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