by Kallysten
She bit her lips just where he’d touched her before whispering, “I kissed him.”
Paris waited, thinking there was more, but she didn’t add anything.
“Okay,” he said simply with a small smile.
She blinked repeatedly, and while she didn’t cry her eyes seemed too shiny all of a sudden.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I never meant for it to happen. I just wanted—”
He pressed his lips against hers rather than let her finish. He’d known that, sooner or later, she’d try to apologize for this entire situation. And he’d known what he’d need to do when it happened.
“Don’t,” he said, and if he kept his words quiet, they nonetheless sounded forceful. “Don’t ever apologize about this.”
His hand had traveled to her wrist, and he touched gently where he knew his name was inscribed—along with Paul’s and Petro’s.
“You didn’t choose what’s written on your skin, not any more than anyone else on this earth ever did. As far as I’m concerned, you having three mates only means that you’re such an extraordinary woman, no one man could ever give you all the love that you deserve.”
When he’d prepared the words, he’d tried to figure out how she’d answer… but he’d never imagined she’d burst into tears. Her arms were almost too tight around his neck, her tears too hot when they fell on his shoulder.
“I love you,” she all but sobbed. “I love you so much, I can’t even tell you.”
Alarmed by those tears he hadn’t expected, he slipped a finger under her chin to make her look at him. He was relieved when he found a smile on her lips—and even more so when she pressed that smile to his mouth.
They kissed, slowly and gently, without the need to start something more pushing at either of them. When their mouths parted, she rested against his chest and breathed deeply.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Stroking her back with one hand, he absently wound and unwound one of her braids around his other index finger.
“You’ve got nothing to thank me for,” he assured her. “I’ve told you from the start I was fine with it. Didn’t you believe me?”
She didn’t answer, which he supposed was a reply in itself. He could hardly fault her about it. His talk with Petro had revealed how different his attitude was about her mate tattoo; presented with such conflicting reactions must have confused her only a little more.
The thought of Petro finished to wake him up as he suddenly wondered if the dragon shifter had come back to them during the night. He hadn’t heard anything, and when he asked Hazel, neither had she.
“We should go look for him,” she said at once, the fear thick in her words.
While the previous evening Paris had objected, he now found himself agreeing with her. They’d been too long without news from him.
“Wait,” he said as he was getting dressed, an idea striking him. “Can you do that thing you did with Paul yesterday? Talk to him through fire?”
From the way her eyes lit up, she hadn’t thought about it, but she was quite eager to try. She found a piece of paper to burn, and once again Paris had a glimpse of her as her dragon self as she breathed fire onto the paper. However, it soon became clear that this new power of hers wasn’t working.
“Paul said something about needing other people to be near a flame so he can talk to them,” she said, a little frustrated. “Maybe that’s why it’s not working.”
Whatever the reason, they’d need to figure it out another time. For now, they needed to go look for Petro.
Or at least they intended to, until Elsa, already awake and busy in her kitchen, huffed at them.
“Right,” she said. “Because strangers walking around the countryside looking for someone won’t seem suspicious at all if anyone’s still after you. Don’t be silly, children. Me and Foxy will go look. We’ll find your boy.”
It was hard to argue with her, especially when she was already whistling for her dog to join her. Hazel gave her some clothes for Petro, and out she went in the early morning sunlight. Hand in hand, they watched her go.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Paris said softly, and truly hoped he wouldn’t be proved wrong.
*
Waking up with a dog’s nose sniffling his manly bits wasn’t exactly Petro’s idea of a good time. He tried not to yelp as he sat up on his bed of straw, pushing the dog’s head away with his hand only to have the dog give him a big doggy grin and lick his palm.
“I think she likes you,” an amused voice said above him.
This time, Petro did yelp, though he tried to turn the embarrassing sound into a cough. Even as he looked up, he covered his privates with his hand—only to remember it was slathered with saliva. Grimacing, he shielded himself with his left hand instead and tried to wipe the right on the straw.
“Is this your barn?” he asked the woman standing in front of him, finally looking up at her.
With a few strands of gray in her hair and deep laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, she looked like she might be in her fifties. Easy enough to overpower if he needed to escape, even if she had a thick walking stick in one hand, and a dog at her heels.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he went on without waiting for her to reply. “I had an accident last night and…”
He trailed off, not quite awake enough yet to make up a credible story as to how he’d taken up refuge in this barn—more like a large shed, really—while in the nude. He’d lost his way after getting rid of the police, and, unable to find the road to the farm again, he’d decided to get back on the ground and hide rather than risk being spotted again. Tired and cold, he’d seen this barn as a godsend, though he hadn’t meant to stay there so long. Judging by the light streaming in through high windows, it must have been mid-morning already.
“I’d tell you to go on just to see how far you can spin this story,” the woman said, grinning widely, “but it is not, in fact, my barn, and my neighbors don’t care all that much for shifters. Or naked men roaming through their property for that matter. Why don’t you get dressed so we can get out of here?”
With that, she dropped a backpack on his lap, and turned around to give him some privacy while he hurriedly put on the clothes it contained. His clothes, he was relieved to see. The others clearly had found the safe house.
“You’re Elsa?” he asked, though he already knew she was. “Thank you.”
She peeked back at him just as he was putting on his sneakers, having covered all essential parts. She was still grinning, although maybe more wistfully than earlier, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d stood there before her dog woke Petro up.
“I am” she said, offering him her hand.
He shook it, noticing she wasn’t asking for his name and wondering if her own really was Elsa or if it was a codename. Her file had been unclear about that.
“Are my friends all right?”
She invited him to follow her out with a tilt of her head. A short whistle had the dog running ahead of them.
“They’re fine.” She let out a small chuckle. “I thought that young man was in bad shape at first, but seeing how they kept me up long past my bedtime, I think he’ll be fine.”
Petro didn’t reply, too confused to know what to say. Young man? Did she mean Paris? But he hadn’t been hurt, had he? It was Paul who…
Understanding struck, blinding Petro just as much as the bright sun above them. Jealousy surged through him, so sudden and so intense that he couldn’t stop his talons from coming out. He opened his fists just in time to avoid slicing his own hands to ribbons. Ahead of them on the dirt trail, the dog stopped, looked back at him as it sniffed the air, then ran to its mistress’ side with its tail between its legs.
Elsa looked down at the dog, then at Petro, though she didn’t seem to notice his talons before he managed to retract them.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, and for the first time her grin vanished as she observed his expression
.
“All is well,” he assured her a little too forcefully to sound entirely convincing. “Are we far from your place? It was so dark last night, I couldn’t find it.”
Part of him was aware that she was answering, gesturing ahead of them with her walking stick, but he barely heard a word of what she said. His entire mind was roiling with the mere thought of Hazel and Paul together.
Two months. It’d been only two months since she’d broken up with him. Two months since he’d been allowed to caress her mouth with his own, but it felt more like two years—or two hundred. And now she’d taken Paul to her bed on the same day she’d met him? Somehow, he realized with some shock, he hadn’t felt quite as betrayed when she’d chosen Paris over him. Was it because Paul was his brother? Because he’d teased Paul so often in the past about how no woman would pick him over Petro?
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Elsa asked.
Her voice came from some distance behind him, and Petro had to pull himself out of his thoughts to stop and turn back to her. She was crouching, stroking the flanks of her dog as it whined and pressed itself against her legs.
“I’m sorry,” he said reflexively, and it was true. He didn’t mean to scare the dog like this. He’d heard animals picked up on shifters’ emotions more easily than they did on humans’, and it seemed that was happening here. But knowing his inner turmoil affected the dog and calming himself were two very different things.
“Is it something I said?” Elsa asked, still trying to soothe her pet. Her eyes widened briefly and her expression fell. “I meant no offense. I saw her wrist yesterday, and I figured…”
Was he scaring her too, now? Judging from the waver in her voice as it trailed off, it certainly seemed like he did. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at her again.
“No offense given or taken,” he said grudgingly. “She does have three mates. But I’m afraid I’m still learning to get used to the idea. I’ll try to control myself better.”
She observed him for a few seconds longer before nodding once. Picking up a short stick next to her on the dirt path, she showed it to the dog before flinging it into the field next to them. The dog forgot its fear to go hunt down the improvised toy while Elsa pushed herself back up by using her walking stick. They started onto the path once more. The dog brought back the stick, wagging its tail in excitement, only for Elsa to throw it once more.
“There’s not much point in arguing with mate tattoos,” she said then, her voice quiet as though she were thinking aloud. “They’ve been guiding our lives since times immemorial. If they could be changed or reasoned with, people would have found a way by now.”
The absolute certainty in her voice grated against Petro’s already frayed nerves. He was tempted to tell her his mate had rejected him, not just once but twice over. Let her try to explain that with general platitudes.
But the thing was… he’d brought this on himself, hadn’t he? The first time he’d seen Hazel’s bare wrist, he’d messed it all up. Even now he remembered the wariness in her expression when she’d shown him his name on her skin… and the two names next to it. He didn’t know what she’d hoped to hear from him—had she even known it herself?—but in hindsight, his reaction had been the beginning of the end of their relationship. He’d been so shocked to see not only his brother’s name next to his own but also a third one that the same words he’d repeated so many times to Paul had come to his lips of their own accord.
“I won’t share you.”
“I won’t ask you to,” she’d answered, but her quiet laugh hadn’t sounded right.
He might not have given her an ultimatum that day, but clearly she’d taken his words as such since she’d broken up with him after meeting Paris.
And Paris, unlike Petro, had embraced that quirk of fate and given her his ‘blessing’ to be with her other mates.
Was losing her Petro’s karmic punishment for all these times he’d tormented Paul about the name on both their wrists? With hindsight, Petro could admit he’d been an asshole in his teens and early adulthood, especially toward his brother. He liked to think he’d outgrown that phase, but had he, really?
If it was true, it might be time to prove it.
As Elsa guided him toward her farm, he made himself take deep, slow breaths, and did his best to push away all negative emotions clinging to his heart. It wasn’t going to be easy to accept the situation, but what alternative did he have? Being alone for the rest of his life? Was he so proud and inflexible that he’d rather sacrifice his own happiness than allow others to be happy alongside him? He’d been skeptical when Paris had first shown himself open to sharing, but unless Petro adjusted his own attitude it looked like he’d be the only one left out.
Hazel was on the doorstep when they walked up to it, Paris standing a step behind her.
“Are you all right?” she asked at once, her eyes roaming over him. “We were worried.”
The answer should have been anodyne, and yet it refused to rise to Petro’s lips. Rather than speaking, he carefully took Hazel in his arms for a hug, attentive to any sign of discomfort from her. When she tensed, he prepared to let go, but the next second she was hugging him back tightly. Looking over her shoulder, he offered Paris a deep nod, and received a smile in reply. Now all he needed was to go see his brother, and see if he could let go of the past once and for all.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Watching Petro walk into the room, Paul felt like his stomach was flipping over repeatedly. It wasn’t that he was scared of his brother… or at least, not exactly. But an entire childhood of butting heads with someone who was older, bigger and stronger than him was suddenly resurfacing. He’d thought he’d put all that behind, but had he? Or had he been running away all his life from the confrontation he knew would happen again someday?
That confrontation was bound to come now that they’d finally met their mate. And Paul hadn’t only met her—he’d made out with her, mere hours after meeting her. In the past, he’d sometimes slept with a woman right after meeting her, but it had always been with the mutual understanding that it all amounted to nothing more than shared pleasure. This time… this time they’d known that even gentle kisses meant a lot, and it had felt as special as Paul had always hoped it would.
He just hadn’t stopped to think about how Petro would react in the aftermath.
Petro, who’d always said he wouldn’t share his mate.
Petro, who’d met her first, and was obviously close to her if she’d come with him to help his brother.
Petro, who was now standing by his bed, towering over him with his arms crossed over his chest.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, gruffly though not unkindly.
Paul shrugged. “Better. It still hurts a bit, but it’s not inflamed anymore. I guess that Paris guy knows his stuff.”
Petro gave a slow, shallow nod.
“Yeah, he’s a good doctor. From what I heard, he could have ended up as one of the top surgeons in the country if he hadn’t been a para. Their loss, our gain.”
“Our gain?” Paul repeated, arching one eyebrow at his brother. “Really?”
For a second or two, Petro glanced at the half-closed door, long enough for Paul to wonder if anyone was about to come in. In the end, they remained alone.
“It’s not like any of us has much of a choice about it, is it?” he finally said with a curve to his lips that could have almost been called a smile.
Paul blinked. Then blinked again. Of all the reactions he’d expected from Petro about the fact that they didn’t only share a mate, they also shared her with another man, this might have been the very last.
“Who are you?” he said, a little incredulous. “And what have you done with my brother?”
Shaking his head, Petro chuckled. Somehow, he sounded more self-deprecating than amused.
“I know, right? It doesn’t sound like me. It’s weird how fast your priorities can change when the only woman you�
�ve ever loved dumps you because she can’t fathom the idea of having more than one mate.”
He was using the second person, but it wasn’t ‘you’ that he meant today.
What he meant was that he’d had her, she’d been his mate in all senses of the word… and she had ended up choosing someone else over him.
Not only that, but she’d now spent some… quality time with Paul. What did that mean?
Would she dump Paris to be with Paul instead? Somehow, he had a hard time believing that. She’d allowed no more than kissing, and she’d been gone when he awakened. He wasn’t sure when exactly she’d left, he didn’t even recall falling asleep, but the fact that she’d taken her leave while he slept seemed like an important clue. And so was the fact that she’d come back this morning, with Paris at her side. She’d brought Paul coffee and toast, and had watched as Paris checked his wound once again. The three of them had made small talk, and at no point had Paul thought that she only wanted one mate. Instead, he’d been wondering how they would all fit together, and whether to ask straight out or just let things develop and see what happened.
But now Petro was saying things might be different…
Paul wasn’t sure what was going on exactly, but he did know one thing. Lying to his brother, or hiding things from him—or from Paris—could only complicate the entire situation.
“I kissed her,” he said, and immediately winced at how abrupt he sounded. “I mean… I’m not saying that to shove it in your face or anything. I just… I don’t want to have to hide anything. If it’s going to work… If anything’s going to work… I think we should all be honest.”
Paul used to be fairly good at deciphering his brother’s moods, but he had to be out of practice because for a flitting moment he could have sworn Petro looked relieved. It didn’t make any sense, though.
“That’s… fine,” Petro said very low. “Not that I have any right to say anything about who she decides to kiss.”
This definitely was a very different Petro from the one Paul remembered. Feeling like he might be poking a bear with a stick, he couldn’t help but ask, “So… if I do more than kiss her… will it still be fine?”