18. Kaden

Chapter 18

Kaden

T he small plane hums with the strength of enchantment, the chair beneath me vibrating, the motor roaring. I shift in my tight location, my knees brushing against the seat in front of me. I glance out the round window at the puffy white clouds.

It's been three days since I discovered Lilia might be in Norway, so I spent every moment down by the docks with no sign of her. But once those bastard mercenaries started tracking me there, I knew I had to fix that small problem first.

So, here I am, flying with my little mermaid to a place called Finland.

Tightness squeezes my chest each time I stare outside, and I'm breathing rapidly at the small clouds showing me the land so far down below. Fuck! I'm made for swimming, not damn flying.

A tender, soft hand touches mine, and I flinch slightly, which isn't me. Nothing scares me, yet I'm squeezing the armrests with a death grip. Add to that the sensation of being cramped, and the whole experience is itching on my nerves.

I look over to Sasha next to me, her grip on my hand light, and I breathe slightly easier that she's not frightened.

"How are you holding up?" she asks.

Chowder's head pops out of her backpack in her lap, tilting his head, staring at me as though he's judging me.

"How do you sweat so much?" he says in that chirpy voice.

"I'm fine," I half growl as perspiration rolls down my back.

"No harm in being scared of flying," Sasha tells me. "Lots of people dislike it."

"Then why do it? Nothing about this feels natural." I glance around at the other passengers, noting their tense expressions. At least it's not just me feeling unsettled.

"It's a fast way to travel, and actually, it's quite safe, especially when propelled by magic."

I arch an eyebrow. "Magic can be easily countered and manipulated."

She pats my hand, grinning.

Chowder reaches out his little claws, patting my arm, too. "You be strong."

I eye him. "Like I said, I'm fine," I counter, shifting in my seat again. The sight of clouds so close outside is too much, and I shove down the blind.

Turbulence strikes again, shaking us, and I try to concentrate on anything else. Sasha is leaning against me, her hand resting on my thigh in a comforting gesture. It's hard to keep calm when the plane keeps shaking.

A brunette air hostess in a tight dress pauses at our row of two seats, her eyes locked on me, completely overlooking Sasha. She leans in, a flirtatious smile playing on her lips.

"Excuse me, sir, is there anything else I can bring you? A pillow, whiskey, snacks?"

I can feel Sasha's fiery gaze burning into the side of my face, and I can't resist playing up the conversation a bit. I grin at the hostess.

"Thanks. I might take you up on some snacks."

Her eyelashes flutter. "Of course, sir. I'll be right back."

As she saunters off, I lower my attention to Sasha, whose cheeks are flushed red with fury. I can barely contain my laughter.

"Don't worry," I whisper, leaning closer to her. "I only have eyes for you. You are my beautiful mermaid. No other female even compares."

"Oh, you think I care?" She pulls her shoulders back. "I'm not even that much into you." She shifts in her seat, seemingly accidentally elbowing me in the arm. Then she gives me a death glare that could freeze hell over.

I chuckle, leaning back. "Oh, I see. So, then you won't mind if I go chase down the brunette into the back and rip that skirt off?"

Her face turns white, her eyes blazing with fire. "You do that, and I'll slit your throat."

I laugh, absolutely adoring her to pieces. "There you are, my fierce little mermaid. Don't pretend you don't care for me when I know you're obsessed."

She tries to maintain her angry facade but ends up laughing.

The hostess returns with an armful of snacks. She beams at me, offering the selection. "Here you go, sir."

I take the snacks, lowering my gaze to Sasha. "Thank you. These are for my wife."

Sasha smirks at me, collecting the snacks, though not as greedily as Chowder, who's half hanging out of the bag.

The hostess blinks in surprise, glancing between Sasha and me. "Oh, of course. Enjoy your snacks."

As she walks away, I lean in closer to Sasha. "See? Only for you."

She rolls her eyes but can't hide her smile. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," I tease.

We settle back into our seats, the plane's turbulence shaking me so hard I'm back to gripping those armrests, my knuckles turning white.

Sasha leans in against my arm. "Hey, my dad once told me about a trick on how to deal with fear. Want to try?"

I give her a wary look. "I'm not afraid, but what did he say?"

"Close your eyes," she instructs, and reluctantly, I follow her instructions. "Now, take a deep inhale. Imagine you're in your favorite place, somewhere you feel completely at ease. Focus on the sounds, the smells, the feeling of being there."

"That's easy. My favorite place to be is between your thighs," I state proudly.

She gasps, and I grin, already picturing her blushing.

"Well, thanks, because now everyone on the plane knows that, too," she murmurs.

Unable to stop smiling, I shift to my second favorite place—the ocean. Water rippling and swaying against me, the crashing sound filling the air, salty air in my lungs. The image keeps vanishing each time the plane bumps about, but I bring it back.

After a few moments of failing, I crack open my eyes to come face-to-face with Chowder. He's in Sasha's arms, leaning toward me, staring me in the face. Chowder's so close his whiskers are tickling my nose.

"Fuck! Personal space!"

Sasha laughs at us.

"Why make funny noises?" Chowder asks.

"I'm not," I grumble, though my heart rate is still off the charts.

Chowder scrambles back into Sasha's bag, his head popping back out in seconds. He reclines like he's in heaven, the little shit.

"And you like flying, I suppose?" I ask Sasha, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

"You bet. There's something incredible about being so far off the ground. Like, I can never fly, but this is the closest to knowing what it must feel like."

I resettle in my seat, trying to look composed. "Well, I'll stick to swimming. The ocean doesn't drop you out of the sky."

The plane jolts again, and I grip the armrests tighter, feeling the tension coil in my gut. Sasha keeps her hand on mine, her touch grounding me as I count the minutes until we land.

By the time we finally come down with a loud thump, I'm so wound up, so tense, I've accidentally ripped one of the armrests completely out. Sasha's eyes widen in shock at the sight, and Chowder tsk-tsks me.

I tuck the armrest down beside me. "Let's get out of this tin can. I've done my time being confined."

"I have to admit, you handled that better than I expected," Sasha teases. "I expected you to create more damage."

"Next time we're swimming."

She chuckles. "We'll see about that."

In no time, we're heading toward the terminal. I'm ready to meet the king and officially get those fucking mercenaries off my back. Then back to tracking down whoever backstabbed my grandfather.

Outside, a sleek black car waits, the driver opening the back door for us. I climb in while Sasha has a small conversation with him, then joins me. The spacious interior is a welcome change from the cramped flight. I stretch out, lounging comfortably in the back seat with Sasha beside me and Chowder still in the backpack.

"This is more like it," I mutter, gesturing to the luxurious car. "You should request this vehicle from your work."

She rolls her eyes. "I doubt my work will supply me with a limo. Do you know how rare these things are in this world? I guess Billie has connections with her important fated mates to actually source a limo." Her attention turns out the window.

I reach over, placing a hand on hers. Her skin is soft and warm under my touch. Before I know it, Chowder is scrambling out of the bag, his tiny paw resting on top of my hand as if staking his claim. I stare at him, and he stares back, leaning up against Sasha.

"Seems we're back to this old game," I mutter, though I can't help but smile at the little furball's protectiveness.

The scenery outside is mesmerizing—rolling hills, dense forests, and hardly any vehicles on the road. Finland is every bit as beautiful as Norway, maybe even more so.

Noting the tension in her shoulders, I ask, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just excited and nervous," she admits, her voice soft. "I haven't met Billie's mates yet. She said they were happy to have us stay with them, but you just never know." Her gaze is filled with uncertainty. "They're half-gods! That's slightly intimidating."

"It's not that impressive," I reply, straightening my posture. "I'm the last of my family line, and from my understanding with my grandfather, we're the largest kraken of any family line left alive. He also hinted that our family was unlike any other. Now, that's impressive."

She studies me, her brow furrowed. "It's not a competition, you know."

"I know it's not." I raise my chin, and she grins, shaking her head.

"Anyway, let's just, you know… act normal in front of them. I'm certain they're all polished and perfect."

She's put these men on a pedestal, but no matter how far up the chain you are, there's no such thing as perfect. If anything, it's the opposite.

"You're overthinking this," I tell her gently. "We'll be fine."

"I'm sure you're right."

Sunlight filters through the window and dances across her face. She's absolutely beautiful, and every day I spend with her, I find myself losing my head to her.

"You're staring," she teases, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Can you blame me?" I murmur, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She's wearing skintight leather pants and a shirt that follows her curves, the buttons pulling across the chest, constantly distracting me. "You're breathtaking, Sasha."

She laughs again, the sound filling the car with warmth. Then we fall into a comfortable silence on the drive.

We pull up to a lofty iron fence, the car's engine humming softly beneath us. Beyond the fence is an enormous property with a grand yet standard stone building, but farther beyond that, there's a much larger mansion—no, a castle by its appearance.

The gates open of their own accord, and we roll onto the driveway. Sasha and Chowder are practically plastered to the window, staring out in awe. The car stops, and they climb out eagerly, with me trailing behind. The driver starts unloading our bags from the trunk, placing them on a winding stone path alongside the initial building leading to the back gates. Beyond them stands the enormous mansion of dark obsidian stone with lofty windows on all four levels, with a pointy roof. A winding path cuts through a sparse forest of pine trees, leading up to the grand arched doorway. The entrance steps are flanked by imposing gold wolf statues.

"It's all right, nothing special," I say, pretending to sound unimpressed. "Once I complete my mansion by the fjord, it will blow this place out of the water."

"Of course you'd say that. I think it's stunning."

"Let's just see if this place lives up to your hype," I retort, though I can see a hint of a smile tugging at her lips because she's already smitten by the place.

The driver gestures for us to follow him. "This way. You are expected."

As we move closer, someone rushes out of the front door of the mansion, a woman about the same height as Sasha, with flowing white, silvery hair, dressed in tight black pants and a loose V-neck shirt that glints like blue pearls in the sun. She's even more beautiful when she's smiling.

"Sasha! You're here!" she calls out, her voice quivering like she's crying.

"Billie!" Sasha squeals in delight, and without a second thought, she pushes her handbag with Chowder into my hands and rushes toward the woman. The two of them clash in a huge hug, their laughter and grins infectious. There's something so rewarding about their happiness, about having someone so close that meeting them again feels like your whole life changes.

That's Sasha for me. She just hasn't fully embraced that yet.

She deserves this happiness with me, even if she's too stubborn to admit it.

Billie pulls back from the hug, holding Sasha at arm's length. "I missed you so much! You look amazing!"

"It's been too long, and you have no idea how much I've been dying to see you again."

I stand there, holding the bag with Chowder squirming inside, trying not to feel like a third wheel. The driver, with the bags, starts moving them along the path, and I follow, keeping a respectful distance.

Billie looks over at me, her lips widening into a grin. "And who's this handsome fellow?"

Sasha grins bashfully, and I adore seeing her stare at me that way.

"This is Kaden, who I told you about. He's… well, he's…"

"I'm her fated mate," I answer for her. "Nice to meet you, Billie," I say with a friendly nod. I can behave when required.

She's suddenly there, giving me a hug, her friendliness showing me exactly why she and Sasha are so close.

"Welcome to our home."

Chowder's head pops out of the bag, and Billie gives a small laugh at seeing him.

"Oh, and who is this little guy? Is he yours?" She looks at me for a response.

"Chowder," he answers himself. "I don't belong to someone. Especially not him." He cranes his head up toward me.

I chuckle, rubbing his head.

"He's with me," Sasha states, snatching him out of the bag. She tells Billie all about him as they stroll toward the house.

Well, guess that's my cue to get moving.

As we reach the grand entrance, Billie turns to me, her eyes twinkling.

"Come on, let's get you settled in your room. We have so much to catch up on, and I want to hear everything about how you two met."

"Of course, but I have to see your little ones first," Sasha pleads.

Taking Sasha by the hand, Billie glances back at me. "Hope you don't mind that we go see the little ones first then?"

I shrug, smirking. "I'll happily do whatever makes you both happy."

Sasha throws me a grin, and I adore the joy on her face.

As we head inside behind Billie, I find myself liking her more and more. There's something about her openness that's refreshing. Maybe this visit will be good for Sasha. It might even help her accept the inevitable—that she's my fated mate. With Billie's influence, perhaps Sasha will finally see it, too.