Emma Weylin

Undying Hope


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closed his eyes. He was no healer like Riordan, but he could attend to minor injuries. His eyes locked onto Haven’s. “Marcus Killian is trying to ally my Black Rose with meirlocks?”

      She made a humming sound before she twisted away from him. “I guess. I don’t know. I was just supposed to be marrying whom he told me to marry.”

      Donovan was well aware he was making a colossal ass of himself, and Riordan would be here at any moment to drop the news on her that they were going to be mated until his death. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “All right. We need to talk.”

      “I thought that’s what we were doing,” she said with that doe-eyed look.

      “Have a seat,” he said and moved out of the way so she could without him hulking over her.

      She perched on the edge of a chair. “Yes?”

      “The Undying have something called a lifebond,” he started.

      Her face brightened. “Mason talked about that. He said every one of his people had their own special mate and…” Her eyes went huge as she stood up, knocking the chair over as she backed up, shaking her head. “You’re kidding.” She laughed in that not quite mentally stable way people had. “Not us. It’s just not—”

      “Haven,” Medea said from the door, speaking in a way all could hear her. “But he’s so loveable and even has a nice welping box already set up for me so that I can have my cubs here, where they will be safe.”

      Her eyes dropped to the white wolf before she looked back up at him. “Rejecting you is bad, right?”

      “Kind of,” Donovan said.

      She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “Kind of? I’ve been dealing with a pubescent treòir for the last three years. I have had people following me and trying to drag me back to that godforsaken mansion. People have been butchered in front of me, and then you, the person who is supposed to be the answers to all my prayers, just pops into my life with a declaration of forever—and actually means it literally—and you expect me not to be slightly freaked out when you drop this on me? If you’re looking for another complete and utter meltdown from me, you’re doing a bang up job, pal. There is only so much I can handle in one sitting, and being your predestined soul mate is just…” She stopped talking as she shook her head and righted the chair before sitting down. “You know what? Sure. Why the hell not? At least you don’t give me the heebie-jeebies the way Mason did, and I am mildly attracted to you.”

      “Was that a yes I heard?” the treòir asked.

      “I have no idea. Let me deal with this.” He ignored his power and focused on Haven. He could not handle another meltdown tonight. “My youngest brother is coming. He will fully explain more of this to us and give you your options. You’re not stuck with me if you really would rather not have anything to do with me.”

      Haven rubbed at the shoulder she’d banged into the doorframe. “I am not completely ignorant to how supernatural pairings work. You don’t get any more choice in this then I get. We’ll figure us out, but I can’t take anymore tonight.”

      He snorted. “And you were the one who was going to have Bastian take in five thousand five hundred years of history tonight.”

      Her eyes snapped to his face. “You’re not that old, are you?”

      “No,” he said with a chuckle as he pulled out a chair to sit across from her. “Two thousand five hundred.”

      She gave a small smile. “I always did like older men.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s just take this slowly, all right?”

      “We can do that,” he said. “I’d like to speak with Riordan alone when he gets here, and then you can ask him anything you wish.”

      “When is he going to get here?”

      “Any moment.”

      “I’ll just go change and clean up the mess we made. Have Nikon tell me when I can come down.”

      Donovan gritted his teeth together as he watched her flee the room. Not that he blamed her. He was behaving like a perfect ogre and couldn’t manage to get his head on straight enough to form a proper thought.

      “He’s here, Medea announced just before the elevator door opened.

      “Where is she?” Riordan asked as he walked in with Echo, a white wolf trailing behind him. Echo touched her nose to Riordan’s hand before she padded into the living room to be with the other wolves.

      “Hiding upstairs,” Donovan said as he gave the bags a worried glance. “You trust me with food that needs to be heated?”

      Riordan laughed at him. “Not likely, but I assume even the kid could manage a breakfast of eggs and bacon, even if the woman cannot.”

      Donovan’s growl was low, bordering on unfriendly. “Thank you for the food. I am sure they will appreciate it in the morning, but I can hurt you. Nadia isn’t here to save your ass.”

      “But you won’t,” Riordan said with confidence. He set the bags down on the counter and grinned at his brother. “I have information you need. That guarantees my safety.”

      Donovan started going through bags and putting things into cabinets. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

      “Possibly,” Riordan said. “The first thing you don’t do is tell her about your newly developed death wish.”

      He dragged a hand over his face and slowly counted backward from ten. He was going to have to deal with this from every Undying male within the continental United States and possibly the entire world. Damn it, anyway. “I do not have a death wish!”

      “Of course you don’t.” Riordan pulled out several slabs of butcher-wrapped meat and put them into the freezer for the wolves. “But tell me you’ve changed your view on a conversion.”

      “I haven’t,” Donovan confirmed.

      “There you go,” Riordan said in a subdued tone. “Death wish.”

      “I could live for another fifty years,” Donovan said with a snarl.

      “Right.” Sarcasm dripped from the one word. “And every enemy you’ve ever made is going to ignore the fact you’ve made yourself helpless.”

      This topic wasn’t going to move anywhere fast. Which was the reason he wasn’t going to do anything with his power until his options or time had run out. With a concerted effort, he shoved down his growing ire. “Whatever. I need to know what I’m supposed to do with her.”

      Riordan settled himself at the kitchen table with a laugh. “Do you really need to have this conversation with me? I thought you had it with father at least two thousand years ago.”

      He was beginning to wonder if asking Riordan for help was one of his better ideas. Riordan was their paramount healer, but apparently, that distinction didn’t stop the bonds of brotherly love—or the need for the younger one to irritate the older one beyond a man’s conventional endurance. “I get that,” he gritted out. “You’ve seen the contents of the book while I have not.”

      “You know basic bonding protocol. Beyond that, if you’re going to give up your treòir, I am not sure what else you need to know.” All of Riordan’s previous humor drained away, leaving deep concern. “You need your treòir to bond to her in the way of our people. If you still plan to give your power up…” He shrugged. “What is her decision?”

      “A tentative yes,” Donovan said. “This could get ugly, and I have a child under my roof. If his treòir wants to protect her from…” He left it hanging, unsure if he wanted to tell his brother he thought Haven was his lifebond because his power wanted her. If he had access to the Book of the Undying, maybe this would be clearer, but he didn’t. The book was gone,