10. Some Stars Fall, Some Are Plucked

Isobel spenta good hour simply canvassing the riverbank for cameras, and then when she didn’t find any, she decided to cross the river itself, holding her phone above her head as she did. She wasn’t sure if their little game would be of enough interest to the officials to send out a camera crew to cover the blind spot, but she doubted they would be able to follow her across the water with all of their equipment.

She was dripping as she hiked along the other side of the wide riverbank, picking her way between thick tree roots, scattered rocks, and crumbling earth. She had found a shallow part of the river to cross, but the cool water had still been deep enough to sway up to her chin. It now rushed beside her in a pleasant wash of noise, birds tangling in the leaves of the canopy above, unbothered by the rain. The scene might have been relaxing, if her blood wasn’t boiling and her skin itching with a strange mixture of anxiety and anticipation. She didn’t doubt that one of them would find her—hard as she had tried—but now that she had reached her hiding spot, she had no option but to face exactly what was about to happen.

She had agreed to fully bond one of her mates.

And she didn’t even know how they were going to do it. There would be no formal tattoo ceremonies with family and friends in quiet attendance and flower crowns perfuming their hair. There would be no Guardian helping them to choose from the ancient symbols, or each other’s names or initials.

There was just them, a storm, and the longest day of her life turning dark and deep with night.

When a twig snapped behind her, she flinched, pulling up short, but there was no time to turn around before a thick, tawny arm wrapped around her waist, the heady scent of whiskey washing over her.

She glanced down, spotting the two scrunchies around Niko’s wrist, and all of the tension she had been holding so tightly inside her body suddenly loosened, flooding out of her in an immense wave.

It was Niko.

Niko was safe.

Her composure broke, and she burst into tears. He spun her around, his eyes tracing her face, her tears, her heaving breaths, reading her like a book and filing away the relief etched into her features.

“You’re glad it’s me,” he said, his hand settling on her hip. His hair hung over his eyes, rainwater trembling from one of the strands. “It’s because you don’t have feelings for me. I’m uncomplicated.” There was a small, understanding smile tight on his lips. “It’s okay.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands. “I’m s-s-sorry.”

She was awful. Horrible.

Niko wanted to be bonded to her less than the others, but here she was feeling selfishly relieved it was him because it would cause less trouble with the others.

“Isobel.” He caught her hands, pulling them away from her face, and then he cupped her cheeks, gently brushing at the droplets that wobbled and spilled from the line of her lower lashes. “They let me win for a reason. It’s okay.”

“Can I have a hug?” she asked stupidly, raising her arms.

He was already pulling her into his body. “Yeah, babe.” His thick arms enveloped her, the heat of his body and the way his muscles dug into the softness of her stomach and chest through their soaked clothing an immediate balm. Her rioting emotions calmed with the physical contact, and she hid her face in his neck, breathing him deeply as she clung to his shoulders. Her legs were dangling above the ground, her mind dizzy with his robust, multifaceted scent. She had been this close to him before—mostly when he was handing her ass to her on the mat—but this was different. He was … letting go of something.

Accepting something.

It was there in his deep, unsteady breaths, in the indulgent lining to his tone, like suddenly he would give her anything and all she had to do was ask for it. She could easily imagine that he would use that voice with his family, or his girlfriend, and it made her ache.

The longer he held her, the tighter both of their grips became. He shifted her closer to a tree, angling his body so that the rain washed against his back instead of hers. She traced her nose along his neck, unfolding the layers of his perfume, growing intoxicated. It was sweet and indulgent butterscotch dancing playfully with the lightest touch of caramel, everything wrapped in toasted oak and earthy vanilla, lingering in smoky, peaty wisps.

“Isobel,” he rumbled, his breath a rasp. “I need to ask you something.”

“Mhm.” She snuggled closer, lost to the pleasurable hum singing through her veins.

She was sure that some of it was the bond buzzing happily at one of her mates lavishing attention on her, but mostly, it was her. Her heavy feelings of relief and security were breaking like a dam and flooding over every inch of fear and anxiety she had harboured for the past few months.

It surprised her that of all the Alphas, Niko was the one who could make her feel like that, but then the more she considered it, the less shocking it became. Niko was steadfast, not volatile. He had never pushed to change their friendship. He was always giving her the same version of himself, even when the other Alphas pulled away to maintain their images for the cameras. After she was released from the hospital following Eve’s attack, Niko was the only one who didn’t draw away from her, their relationship growing slowly but surely, with a consistency that soothed her. Just like her climbing lessons with Kalen, the regular, dependable sessions with Niko had taught her to trust and rely on him.

“Could you ever want more from me?” he asked.

She drew back, shaking off the haze that had begun to drag her under. Niko’s face appeared before hers, their noses inches apart, his mottled green and brown eyes drifting over her face with a heavy sort of acceptance, like he already knew the answer to his question.

“What?” she asked, her voice small.

“I want more.” He spoke calmly. “I want you.” And then, before she could even respond, he added, “I just need to know if you feel what I feel because if you don’t, this is going to go in a different direction.”

“W-what direction?”

“If you don’t feel this”—he captured her hand, pressing it over the erratic beat of his heart, the only part of him betraying his calm exterior—“I’m taking you back to Dorm A and giving this opportunity to someone else. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we bond, but some people say they feel each other’s feelings and hear each other’s thoughts and if I have to feel that your heart doesn’t speed up for me the way mine does for you, I don’t think I’ll handle it well.”

“How do you know when it’s the bond and when it’s … normal?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper now.

A person would have to be blind to not be attracted to Niko. His touches always made her stomach swoop … and his tongue on her skin when her chain appeared had completely short-circuited her brain, but how could she suddenly crack herself open and reveal all of that? After she had admitted to Theodore that she had feelings for him? After she had let Oscar do what he did to her in the bathroom that morning?

How could she naturally develop so many feelings for so many different people all at once? How could that not be attributed to the bond?

“Sigma.” He nuzzled her cheek. “Don’t look so guilty. Just tell me, and we can go home.”

“That’s not why I feel guilty,” she rushed out, horrified at the wave of pain he tried to hold back from her.

It washed against her gently, despite the acrid sting she could sense hovering just above the skin of her chest. He reined it in, still holding her so tightly, still comforting her with the brush of his bristled cheek against her smooth skin, but then her words seemed to register, and he stilled.

“You like me.” He sounded shocked—astounded almost.

“How could I not?” she whispered close to his ear, scared to say the words out loud, losing her nerve before she could utter the rest. You’re every girl’s dream.

“That’s all I need to know,” he said, his damp skin now pulsing with heat. “It doesn’t have to mean anything right now. But why do you look so guilty? What happened?” He drew back again, peering into her eyes as he set her gently back onto her feet, his hands anchored to her hips.

He walked her backwards, almost distracted, like he couldn’t help himself as he pressed her closer to the deeply furrowed bark of the tree they stood beneath.

“I don’t want to tear the group apart,” she said, hoping he would read between the lines, before sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and shaking her head. There would be plenty of time for cowardice later—omitting her feelings before completing a bond with one of her mates after he had confessed his feelings for her was not that time. “If we keep going the way we are—and I don’t mean me and you, I mean the whole group—then I will develop relationships with several people at once. I already am.”

“We know.” He released her hips, planting his hands against the wide trunk of the tree either side of her head.

He didn’t seem to be boxing her in intentionally, more like looking for something to lean against as he hung his head, his eyes dropping from hers, though his attention didn’t wander far, catching on her chest, where her wet shirt was clinging to her skin, the material puckering around her chain. He dragged his eyes back to hers, his tongue peeking out absently to lick a drop of rain from his lower lip.

“This isn’t something we can plan. The relationships you have with each of us are up to you and those individual people you’re involved with, not all of us as a group. But we’re very aware of the connections you’re forming. I grew up with Eli and Gabe. Moses and Theo grew up together. Kalen and Mikki have known each other for a long time. Theo and Kilian are best friends. Moses and Oscar are best friends. And all ten of us have been living in the same dorm for two years now. We know each other and we know what’s going on. I’m not saying we’re happy about the situation, but we’re not going to sit around complaining about it either. We’ll make it work. We’ll make sure there’s happiness and space for ourselves because that’s what Gifted people do, right? Give us coal and we’ll give your economy diamonds.”

Isobel snorted out a soft laugh and he lifted his head at the sound. Since he was already leaning over, propped against the tree, his movement brought his face close to hers, affording her a rare, up-close glimpse of his eyes. They were actually predominantly hazel, she noticed. A deep mahogany with subtle emerald flecks like scattered leaves on a forest floor. He blinked, a droplet falling from his lashes and sliding down his cheek. She reached up, touching it, tracing the glittering path of water as he loomed closer.

“We can’t be out here all night,” he rumbled, his big chest heaving as his gaze dropped to her mouth. “I need to mark you before they send a camera crew … or a rescue crew.”

She began to nod, before wincing. “I should have asked this back in Kalen’s office, but there was so much?—”

“Tattoo pen.” Niko anticipated her question, pulling a Ziplock bag from his pocket and unwrapping plastic from a device. He also pulled out two small sachets and two small gauze patches, waving them at her before dropping them back into the bag. “Alcohol wipes and tiny bandages—so I suppose we need to keep this small. You just have to decide what you want me to draw and where you want it.”

She swallowed past her relief. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m glad it’s a tattoo. Who?—”

“Elijah.” He anticipated her question again. “Although all this packaging would suggest it was actually Gabriel who got the pen, but it was Elijah who gave the package to me. He tracked you here and stood back, waiting for me to approach him with everything I needed to complete the bond in his pocket, like the psychopath he is.”

She let out a nervous laugh, glancing at the tattoo pen. “You know how to use that?”

He grinned. “Can’t be too hard.”

She groaned low. “Right.” Looking down at herself, she couldn’t think of where to place the tattoo or what she wanted. She had avoided all thoughts of forming a bond, and now she was paying for it.

“Want me to choose?” Niko asked, surveying her.

“Depends.” She bit back a smile. “Where would you choose?”

He reached out immediately, touching the soft spot behind her ear, his eyes darkening. “Here. When we’re fighting, I love it when you tie up your hair and I can see your neck. Your smell is so strong right here.” His thumb brushed back and forth over her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

This was a different Niko. She almost didn’t know what to do with him. He had always been focussed, but he rarely turned that focus on her with such unrelenting intensity. He never stared deep into her eyes, and he definitely didn’t allow his touches to linger.

“What if I had said I didn’t like you?” she blurted. “You would have taken me back to the dorm and that would have been the end of it?”

His smile was slow and sad. “No. It would have been the end of tonight. I was going to change your mind, but I wasn’t going to put you on the spot and do it tonight, not with this hanging over you. I was going to let you bond with someone else and then make sure you felt it. And then I was going to demand you bond me too.” His grip slid down her neck, his body looming closer, his thumb tilting up her chin. “I can be very very—” His lips brushed hers, both of them inhaling deeply. “—very stubborn, Illy.”

At the sound of her name on his lips, growled out so lowly, she finally gave in and grabbed handfuls of his wet shirt, dragging him back down to her mouth.

He kissed her deeply, a savage edge to the hard press of his lips and the way his tongue pushed against hers, demanding immediate submission, but then he pulled back with a hiss, holding the tattoo pen between them, the bag dangling from two of his fingers.

He didn’t say anything, and he was still staring at her mouth, his breathing ragged. She wanted to pull him back in and see how far she could push him—the fire in her stomach was demanding it—but he was right. They were out there for a reason, and it wasn’t to make out under a tree, or even to confess their feelings.

They needed to complete the bond.

“Okay,” she whispered hoarsely, pulling her high plait over one shoulder and turning to give him her back. “Just draw a small heart,” she said quietly, picturing what a line of hearts crawling down her neck would look like. She could add more later at a tattoo place on Market Street—maybe do a line of hearts on either side, like etched black earrings hanging from her ears. Or maybe …

Maybe someone else would add to the line of hearts.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but her body definitely knew how it felt. Heat flooded her stomach at the fantasy of ten pairs of hands holding her neck and etching dark little hearts into her flushed skin.

Niko didn’t mess around. He cleaned the spot he had chosen with one of the alcohol wipes and then turned the pen on, his big hands twisting her head just the way he needed it.

The first sharp bite of the tattoo gun was all it took to convince her that something was happening, and by the time he finished, covering what he had done with the tiny piece of gauze, the shift inside her was so tangible, she could almost see it.

It felt like a deep and dark void opening up inside her, filling with a power that shook her to the core. It felt like waking up. Like coming back to life after years of sleep. From somewhere deep inside that void, she felt pieces of herself being pulled up from where they had fallen, thrown into a war with the dark hands of fate that tried to drag them back down. Those pieces were golden and bright, and they reached higher and higher until they were burning inside her chest, yanked from the pit of her stomach.

Niko spun her around, staring at the golden light she now realised wasn’t simply imaginary as it burst from her chest in tendrils and burrowed into Niko’s skin beneath the wet fabric of his shirt. He grunted, dragging his eyes to hers, swearing and jerking away from her.

“Jesus fuck,” he yelled, clawing at one of his eyes. He pulled his hand away, a melting contact burning into his palm. He swore again, shaking out his hand, and then stepped back further, tilting his face up to the rain to wash out his eye. “Take out your contact,” he told her. “Quickly.”

Isobel removed it with shaking hands and then stood there, stuck, throat dry and eyes wide, because she could feel … everything. Niko was inside her body, inside her mind. His pain was her pain—as keenly as if her own eye were burning.

She blinked away tears, finally breaking out of her shock and hurrying over to him, one of her eyes too blurry to see out of. “Are you okay? Did it do any damage?”

“I don’t think so,” he groaned, holding his eyelid open as rain washed over his face.

“Let me see,” she demanded, tugging on his arms.

He tilted his chin back down, crouching to her eye level, and she caught his chin, furrowing her brow as she assessed the damage. “It’s all red and swollen, but it’s not bleeding or anything.”

“Good.” His voice turned quiet. “I can feel you. You’re worried.”

She nodded, wetting her bottom lip as she realised she was seeing Niko without his contact for the first time. The honeyed brown of his iris was more familiar to her than the contact she wore every day. It was more her. But the longer she looked at it, the less familiar it became. It was changing. It grew cloudy, grey washing in behind the honey-gold specks. Some of the grey paled, turning icy and shrinking to pinpoints like the scattering of stars. And then there was a shimmering arc of deeper brown, almost red, which faded into a thin curtain, layering over emerald green. Splotches of black exploded, and threads of gold wove through, interacting with pale green and brighter sapphire.

It was her multicoloured eye.

Speckled and splotched and … special. Because she finally realised it was all of their colours.

He took her breath away.

“It’s your turn,” Niko rumbled, backing her up until her spine brushed the trunk of the tree and they were marginally protected from the rain again. He passed the tattoo gun into her hands, and then the bag. “It needs to be somewhere the cameras won’t see. We can’t both suddenly have new tattoos.”

“What should I draw?” she asked, touching the small patch of gauze on her neck.

His eyes followed her unconscious movement. “A heart is fine.”

“Should we really be matching?” she asked, distracted as he lifted his shirt, pushing the hem of it between his teeth to hold it up as he shifted the waistband of his pants down, revealing more sharply muscled skin than she really knew what to do with.

“No.” Niko’s voice was tight, the word spoken between his teeth. He tucked his shirt beneath his chin instead, allowing him to speak clearly again. “Now ask if I care.”

“Okay.” She smiled at him, unaffected by his cold tone because she could feel that he was amused with her and impatient to get her mark on his skin. “But don’t you want something a little more ‘Alpha?’”

She lowered to her knees, ripping open the second alcohol wipe and cleaning his skin.

“Like what?” he rasped, eyes darkening.

Hurry up before I ruin you in the middle of a fucking forest.

“L-like a dumbbell o-or a b-burger,” she squeaked, her cheeks burning with colour. “Did you mean to talk in my head just now?”

“No.” His confusion sparked inside her. “You heard me? What did I say?”

“Never mind,” she rushed out, pinking further. “So … a can of beer?”

“Make it a heart, mate.” This time it was a growled order, and she fell back to her heels, staring up at him.

He blinked, wincing. “I mean … please?” His voice was strangled now.

“You can call me that,” she whispered, her skin tingling.

He took a moment, probably to catalogue the butterflies in her stomach and her hitched breath before he slowly nodded. He knelt, putting his face by hers, his fingers soft on her chin.

“Then, mate—” He kissed her gently, both of them groaning at the soft, fleeting contact. “—please draw a heart and please draw it now.”

He stood again, taking her breath with him, and she forced herself to focus, turning on the pen. “How do I do this?”

“Just press down—not too hard. It should feel like drawing on paper and the pen should glide smoothly.”

She let out a grounding breath and outlined a small heart below his hip bone, drifting closer, her breath on his skin as she tried to concentrate. She could feel the flare of lust that burned through him, and a hardness pressing insistently to the inside of her left wrist as she steadied herself against his thigh. It throbbed as she coloured in the heart, and one of Niko’s hands drifted to the side of her face, tracing the wet tendrils of her hair as they spiralled over her cheek.

He let out a deep, heavy breath as she finished, leaning back to observe her work. Satisfied, she covered it with the gauze patch but blinked as Niko’s awe and shock suddenly tunnelled through their bond. She whipped her head up, and found him staring at her with wide eyes, his hand trembling as it drifted along her hairline.

“Stunning,” he whispered, capturing her plait, and drawing it forward into her eyeline.

Her hair was shining. Glimmering and glinting with the soft colours of an aurora, speckles of light like scattered stars blinked out at her in a soft glow, reminding her of the pattern of her eyes.

“W-what the hell.” She gripped Niko’s forearms as he pulled her up, but it wasn’t Niko who answered her.

It was someone else.

Someone who made her blood run cold.

“Finally,” Eve spat, stepping out from behind a tree. “Thought it was never going to happen. Time to go night-night, lovebirds.”

Niko had begun to advance on Eve, but her power rolled over him in a wave so strong it had him stumbling and falling. He tripped over one of the gnarled tree roots as Isobel was knocked backwards into the tree, the wave of power hitting them both at the same time.

She tried to call out to Niko, whose eyes were rolling into the back of his head as he fell back, and back … tumbling down the steep bank and disappearing with a loud splash into the river.

He can’t swim.

Isobel fought the haze that had blackness flashing over her vision, but failed, and when she blinked again Eve was already in front of her and she was sprawled on the sodden ground.

You’re going to die for this. The Alphas will kill you. Isobel fought to say the words, but they wouldn’t come, so she tried to say it with her eyes instead.

Eve laughed, pulling a pocket knife from her jacket. “I’m protected, bitch. Your Alphas can’t do shit to me.”

Isobel fought to get away, straining with every muscle, frantic and agonized, willing her body to crawl, to fall, to get to Niko any way she could.

He was going to drown.

Their relationship had changed in the blink of an eye and already, she was losing him.

“Don’t worry,” Eve said, examining the blade. “He’s just awake enough to hold his head up, to breathe, to cling on. I wanted you awake for this.”

And then she began sawing away at Isobel’s hair, and that horrible, all-consuming pain that Isobel had hoped to never feel again was there.

Again.