Page 77 of Alpha Exile

He also doesn't remember her ever touching him at all, other than the moment when she shoved his head down in the cavern's waters and forced him to swallow the Spirit Eyes. More than a small part of me hopes he neverdoesremember.

What he does recall is that, before she put the ancient spirit in them, Delphine called them Power Stones. I have no doubt that she knew what they were, since she certainly knew how to use them, so that wasn't a mistake on her part.

There must be something about them that causes them to be powerful in some way. Certainly the spirit inside them was violent and angry, moreso even than the spirit inside Bastian.

That's why I've decided to keep them with me. Delphine's actions proved that burying them won't keep her from gettinganyof the gemstones. At least if they're on me, nestled directly next to the dagger, I'll have a chance at stopping her before she nabs them back.

I won't let her take my guys from me again.

"Let's get this started," I call to the guys, motioning for them to follow me to the inner part of the Mating Circle. "Everyone, get in close together and take each other's hands."

Lance takes my left hand, with Bastian on the other side of him, then Finn, Kieran, and finally Roarke, who takes my right hand. A little thrill goes up my spine as we complete the circle, five and one once more, made whole.

"You know the drill—concentrate on the threads." I eye each of them in turn, thinking of the connections they represent: to the pack, to my past, to myself, the Otherworld, and finally, to my strength. "Think of the connection you all have to me, and you'll see the threads."

"Already see them, Dollface." Finn winks at me. "Looking forward to seeing what you do with them as well. Just make sure you don't get mine all tangled up with Lance's threads—wouldn't want him to wake up tomorrow morning with a raging boner for me."

"In your dreams."

"Yes, obviously."

Lance accepts Finn's ribbing with good humor. A moment after he finally shuts his mouth, the threads that stretch from each of them towards me begin to dance in the late evening sunlight.

Blue and blue, gold and silver, white and brightly shining. They twist towards me, dozens of them from each of my mates, visible but weaker than they've been before.

"I want to weave them together so we'll never lose each other again." Dropping Lance and Roarke's hands, I coax them to take each other's grip instead as I step towards the center of our small circle. "There's power in weaving. Facing Delphine with nothing but threads of fire has taught me that. Something thin and weak can be made strong when it's folded over itself."

Crooking my fingers out, I gather the threads together between my palms and begin to draw them towards each other. Bastian's black threads surge next to Finn's silver, while Lance's blue threads stand on their own. Kieran's bright white threads twist around Roarke's golden ones, which are fewer in number than they were before he was taken from me.

Seeing that the golden threads are outnumbered, I coax more of them into my fingers. Tugging and pulling on them the way I would a real thread, I fold them over each other until their numbers have multiplied. Thinking of Roarke, I hold memories of our love for each other in the forefront of my mind: long childhood summers together, rediscovering each other as adults, and seeing him grow into his own strength as a leader, all knotted together with the beating of my heart.

Slowly but surely, his threads grow. So I weave them with the others, twisting the blue thread between them all where strength is needed, coaxing the gold threads to tie others together, and bringing the black thread evenly through.

As I do the weaving, I feel something spark deep within my chest. A strength that feels like a second heartbeat. Inhaling slowly, I draw myself up to my full heat, the tapestry of many-colored threads flowing around me.

And I draw the spark of fire out of the center of my chest, working on instinct now. The glowing orange-red thread of it feels hot against my fingertips. Knotting it into the weave, I let it burn through the holes and weak spots, replacing weakness with fire.

"Wow," Finn murmurs. "I can... feel that. Like something taking hold inside my chest."

"In a bad way?" I ask, concerned.

"Nothing of the sort, Dollface. Don't stop now."

So I keep going, weaving the fire that represents my solo strength through them all. The new tapestry has half a dozen colors in it, and as the fire's heat forges bonds, the threads around us surge and grow.

Suddenly there are hundreds, then thousands of threads.

I no longer have to weave them together by hand. They're doing the weaving now of their own accord, stretching towards each other and overlapping to create new strength. A hush has fallen over the Mating Circle, and as I watch the tapestry flow overhead, I see something move.

"Look." Awestruck, I motion out towards the elder statues. "They're coming to life."

Just like they did when I took Gregor's dagger, spoke to Vivia, and mated with each of my mates, the elder statues are taking an interest in our current actions. Their necks bend and their eyes move, the glowing gemstones in them blinking to life with Otherworld energy.

I feel a spark at my belt. Reaching down to the small pouch I tucked there, I pull out the Power Stones. Their red surfaces gleam with energy, and as I pour them into my bare palm, I feel the spark of a presence living deep within.

A powerful and ancient soul that wishes for nothing other than freedom—no matter what it takes, how much violence or sacrifice is required.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I inhale sharply, staring into their depths. Not wanting to connect with the stray soul too deeply, I put them back in the pouch and tuck them away again. Instead I focus on the elder statues around us—which are knowable and controlled.

---