Page 65 of Penny for Your Saints

“That’s fine,” I whisper—doing my best to ignore the rising heat in my face as I struggle against the undertow of my desperate need. “I just want to talk.”

Caz and Sébastien shoot one another a worried glance before following my lead—adding more layers, shoes and socks; the two of them slipping into heavy parkas before we step out into the gleaming sunlight and snow. Seb offers me a cigarette and a light as I step from the cabin in only my thin sweater; tendrils of steam rising off of my body in the cast of golden sunshine.

Before I can say anything, Caz and Seb exchange another tentative look—Cazzy’s voice, small and tinged with fear as he murmurs, “You think he knows?” to Seb so softly I almost miss it.

Seb’s eyes cut guiltily from Caz to me, his brows set in a determined line.

“Look at his face, of course he knows.” Seb juts his sculpted jaw, dusted with stubble in my direction—a weary smile tugging one corner of his mouth upward.

“How long have you known that we were fated mates?” I ask, unable to keep the edge of anger from my voice.

“I had no clue until I saw the blood tests after the dart serum tests.” Sébastien holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Once we saw those, once the heat started—well…” He trails off sheepishly, and I understand completely the feeling of embarrassment at having missed all the signs before.

“I had the thought that day with Louise in the bath.” Caz clears his throat nervously. “But so much was happening—and everything was so goddamn intense…” He turns away from us, his face blushing a furious crimson. “Plus, I’ve always kind of thought… I don’t know.” Caz shoves his hands down into his pockets and kicks a small stone toward the edge of the lake. “I guess I always sort of thought that the whole ‘fated mates’ thing was kind of bullshit,” he laughs, high and thin.

I find myself nodding in agreement without realizing.

“If I’m honest, I felt much the same way.” I let loose my own weak chuckle. “It’s so rare, so fantastical that most never even know someone whose mating bonds were ‘fated’—much less experience the magical happenstance themselves…” I let the bubble of silence grow between the three of us until Seb bursts it.

“It was a hard sell for me too, and I know the most about the Penny’s research out of all of us. Even conceptualizing the idea that they had found definitive proof of what I had always assumed was mostly a fairy tale.” He shakes his head. “But I also feel like a fucking imbecile for not having known it sooner now that we’ve all… well, you know.” He rolls his wrist in the air a few times, his cigarette tracing lazy loops of smoke in the frigid air.

For a good while after, the three of us just stand there, looking out over the frozen lake, no one willing to ask the next inevitable question.

I’ve gotten all the way down to the filter on my cigarette, pinching out the last bit of burning tobacco onto the snow beneath my boots—flicking the empty filter into a tall, rusty coffee can placed next to the side door to the cabin for just such a purpose before Caz puts words to our dilemma.

“Do you think Frank knows?” he asks quietly, tucking his nose and chin into the high zipped collar of his parka.

“I don't pretend I could say either way, yes or no.” Sébastien shakes his head slowly with a dry, skeptical laugh.

I know Frank thought he’d had a fated mate once… but I know how that turned out, and I don’t know if it’s my story to tell the boys—so I remain silent.

“Can’t be sure, but I don’t think so.” I give a noncommittal shrug.

“What about Louise?” Seb presses.

“I don’t think she knows—at least not consciously,” Caz is quick to answer, and I find that I agree with him.

Another pause, loaded with possibility, spreads its wings between us.

“So, what’s the over-under on how long it takes them to find out? Or is one of us due to play potentially-sacrificial-messenger?” Sébastien claps his hands and rubs his palms together, his trickster god features alight with potential mischief.

Before either Caz or I can offer our input, the door swings open behind me—nearly clipping my heels; Frank in his black jeans, bare-chested—his cut and stained leather jacket thrown on, open over his rippling pecs and abs; a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“How long it takeswhoto findwhatout?” he grunts, rubbing the sleep out of one of his eyes with the back of his hand.

Shit, shit, shit.

I am simultaneously relieved that I didn’t spill the beans about Frank’s history with ‘fated mating bonds’, and furious that I haven’t managed to communicate vital information to Seb and Caz before this moment has arrived.

Seb, ever the cavalier bad boy, crosses his arms over his broad chest and lifts his chin in Frank’s direction.

“Hey Frank, you noticed anything… different about this heat?” he begins, the leading question making both Caz and I cringe slightly.

“Whaddaya mean, different?” Frank narrows his eyes at Sébastien, extending an open palm toward Seb for a lighter.

“I don’t know how to make it more clear, Monsieur LaPierre,” Seb jokes easily, placing a plastic lighter in Frank’s open hand. “Has anything struck you as out of the ordinary? Particularly intense, compared to previous heats we’ve shared, shall we say?” Seb does his best to lead Frank gently.

Frank shakes his head and lights his cigarette, taking a deep drag as he scratches beneath his chin, obviously losing his patience with this little guessing game.

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