Page 28 of Sold Rejected Mate
Instead, he left Silverville. And it was entirely within his right, but the damage was already done from his absence. And he clearly has a long road ahead of him to undo what his brothers and uncle have done.
And Lucian, Seraphina’s brother, was a few years ahead of me in school, but we all knew even back then that he was bad news. His dad was known for dealing all sorts of shit—the kinds of drugs that could knock out even paranormals. He was under fire for the death of several humans in the area who got their hands on the stuff and thought it was normal heroin. According to the humans, the stuff was laced with something worse.
Holden put out a warrant of sorts on Ron—Phina and Lucian’s dad—but it never really came to anything. There were bigger things to worry about, and Ron managed to skirt punishment, always skipping town when it came time to confront him.
I think about the scent I caught at the motel that night—that familiar sweet, almost charred Sorel scent, mixed with mint and gasoline. At the time, I was so focused on the job, on gettingout to the wildfire, that I hadn’t even thought about it. I assumed it was Xeran, that the entire fucking town tended to smell like Sorel at times.
But now it makes sense.
The Sorel brothers were there. They had Green in that motel room, tied to her chair, when we pulled into the fucking parking lot.
Lucian was in that room, talking to her like she was nothing. And it must have been after we left, while we were out there fighting the fire, that Green was left alone in that room and felt she needed to use her magic to get away.
To try to get away from what Lucian was threatening her with.
The irony isn’t lost on me that Xeran is here, trying to rebuild the pack—both physically and in spirit—while his brothers are actively causing more damage. I don’t know the details of his relationships with his brothers, but I can’t imagine they’re good.
And I can’t figure out how a family could produce two good sons—Kalen and Xeran—while producing three others who went exactly the opposite way. Does that mean it’s just the luck of the draw? That you could parent five kids the same way, and wind up with a losing percentage?
It sticks in my head as a reason not to have kids. If you never have a baby, you don’t have to worry about not being good enough for it. About raising it the wrong way, leading it blindly into more pain and suffering.
And I’ve fucked up enough shit in my life to know that if it came to raising a baby, being tasked with training a person to begood, to be a reliable packmate, and a loving family member, I’d certainly fall short.
“So you didn’t start the fire on purpose?” Xeran repeats the question, and again, there’s a weight to his words that I don’t quite understand. I itch to ask him about it, but I’m not supposed to speak during this. It’s Green’s meeting.
“No,” Green says, her voice thick.
“How…what is the magic like now?”
“Uh, not pleasant,” she says, shifting and throwing a glance in my direction. My hand itches to reach out and touch her, but I don’t. “Imagine, like, you have to pee, but you can never find a bathroom. You get to a certain point, and you either think it’s going to kill you, or you’re going to piss on the ground.”
Phina lets out a snort, and when Xeran looks at her, there’s the tiniest curl of a smile on her mouth.
“I guess my main question is, if I let you go, are you going to bubble over again? Startanotherfire?” Xeran asks.
“Not on purpose.”
“Have you ever done anything to try and control it? Other than pushing it down?”
“My parents dragged me to a bunch of healers when I was a kid. They all just wanted to make it go away, stuffing me full of herbs and tonics. It made me sick. One suggested that they starve the magic from me, and that actually kind of worked.”
“Gods,” Phina breathes, glancing at her husband, then at Green. “If that went on for a while, it could be why…”
But she doesn’t finish the thought, just trails away. I open my mouth to ask herwhy, what? To chase after the weird strainthat’s running through this conversation, but Xeran is already talking again.
“It’s clear that my grandfather’s rules about magic aren’t without their faults,” Xeran says, lowering his voice as if he might not know if someone was listening outside the door. “And it’s clear that forcing people to suppress natural abilities isn’t helpful. But the question is, would you be willing to learn to control it? If someone could teach you?”
Green looks dubious. “Would it be legal?”
She must come from another pack around this area. Most of the packs in the West are dubious of magic, outlawing it just like Xeran’s grandfather did. I’ve heard that packs out east, and overseas, are a lot more accepting. That some of them even hold magic-wielding shifters in high regard.
“We can call it supervised rehabilitation,” Xeran replies. “For public safety. But that doesn’t leave this room.” His face goes dark for a moment. “If we don’t handle this thing right, it’s going to backfire on all of us. Don’t tell a soul that I’m allowing this. If you do, and they ask me, I will lie. And it would be best for you to remember which of the two of us, a shifter, would be more likely to believe.”
“Gods, Xeran,” Phina says, reaching out and putting her hand on his forearm. “All fire and brimstone. It will be fine.”
He makes a noncommittal sound, and I notice Green is still sitting stiffly in the chair next to me. Maybe because he hasn’t officially pardoned her for this crime.
Xeran looks at me, and there’s something in his gaze, like he’s trying to get me to see something or understand something through it. Maybe he’s not the same as his father? I never once doubted his abilities.
