Chapter 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

SAGE

I slump down in the chair next to Nyko's bed as Wolfe exits, leaving us alone. He had a meeting he was running late to. I guess neither of us expected to end up having sex on the balcony, and after he filled me in on everything—the awful mess they're all in—my head's spinning.

My father's a psychopath. Everything I've heard about him makes my skin crawl, and deep down, I wonder if he's aware of my presence here. The thought of him harming others to get to me sickens me.

Fingers twisting in my lap, I'm torn about what to do. The knot in my gut tightens. I stare at Nyko, noticing a slight improvement in his color.

"Please get better soon," I whisper, dabbing his brow with a towel. "I feel guilty as hell for doing this to you." And with everything else going on, I can't live with having injured one of my true mates.

Pulling back to grab the bowl of salve from the bedside table, a grip tightens around my wrist.

I flinch, glancing over at Nyko holding on to me, his eyes half-open, his grasp weaker than his usual firm one.

"Nyko, you're awake." I shuffle closer to the bed, smiling, never happier in my life. "Thank the fates. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?"

"Why does it smell like sex in here?" His voice is groggy as he scans the area, staring at the open door leading into the living room.

Heat lashes my cheeks. Flashes of Wolfe and me on the balcony play heavily on my thoughts, my pulse speeding through my veins at how desperately I craved him.

"Is that the first thing you notice?" I murmur with a half smirk, trying my best to mask my embarrassment.

He's staring right at me, and he might be sick, but he's not one to miss anything.

"Who was it? Wolfe or Killian?"

I shift in my seat uncomfortably. "You must be feeling better," I half joke. "And Wolfe paid you a visit earlier."

"Better," he admits, still holding my gaze. "But I think your scent helped wake me." He grins, then scrunches up his face as though that movement brings him agony.

"I doubt it's me," I say. "You've been out of it since yesterday. Should I get the doctor?"

I move to get up, but his fingers tighten around my wrist, and that jolt of warmth I'm familiar with from him sweeps through my body. A sensation so overwhelming that a single touch renders me completely distracted by him. It makes sense after discovering that he might actually be my true mate.

"No, don't go. I want it to be just you and me. When I touch you, the world isn't so dark."

"I never knew you were so poetic," I tease, though his thoughtful words affect me to where I'm swooning on the inside.

As if to prove his point, he pulls me a little closer. "If I weren't still feeling half-dead, I'd have you all over my face as I'm convinced tasting you will heal me fast."

I shouldn't be shocked by him anymore, yet he always has me blushing hard. "How can you just say that?" I murmur.

He chuckles, then winces, his laughter turning into a cough. "It's the least you can do after almost killing me." He raises an eyebrow.

The guilt digs into my heart, yet his grip on my arm sends warmth up my arm, a strange comfort when I want to hide from the world. I didn't grow up with such freedom, not when I had nowhere to hide in the village. Not when I had duties to perform to help my mother.

"I'm joking," he rasps, his hand weak against my arm. "Don't you dare hold back on using your power on my account. From what I saw, you're incredibly powerful, and if you need to drain me to use your power, then I willingly offer myself to you."

"Don't say that," I respond instantly, except he's serious. I see it in his jade eyes. "I almost killed you, so how can you be so calm about it?"

The edges of his mouth curl upward like even that action is a struggle for him.

"Because you didn't kill me, Sage. You acted to save yourself, and that's what matters."

"I've been a mess of guilt, fear, and anger at myself." My words tremble.

He pats the bed next to him. "Want to crawl under the blanket with me, and I'll spoon you?" He gives me the sweetest grin, and I burst out laughing.

I'm starting to see two very different sides to Nyko, and I'm drawn to both. The dominant, reckless monster who has that wild look in his gaze where you know he's about to do something crazy. Then the Nyko who can be sweet as honey, makes me swoon, and gives me gifts like necklaces. Is he even aware of his dual personality?

He's coughing again, wincing in pain, and a sickening sensation comes over me, that guilt I can't escape.

"I'll be right back," I tell him, starting to stand up, but he's not releasing me.

"No, you're not going to get the doc. Stay by my side, tell me what you and Wolfe spoke about, what you did together while I lay in bed, passed out." He raises an eyebrow again at his dark humor.

Settling back in the chair, I share with him everything Wolfe revealed about the chaos surrounding us with my father, my fury at being lied to, and even his apology.

"I'm trying, but I'm still dealing with my anger at the hidden truths, at myself for hurting you." My voice cracks. "It's like I feel cheated somehow at how fast I was torn from my life. And now, I doubt I'll ever be able to live there again. Not with me changing into a monster."

His thumb tenderly strokes the inside of my arm. My knees are bouncing at coming to terms with everything.

"Yesterday, after our meal, if you hadn't been kidnapped, I'd intended to take you to the Chamber of Rituals."

My shoulders draw back at his admission. "After everything?" I'm shuddering.

"I'm fucking blinded and fuming that Killian and Wolfe have both confirmed you as their true mates. I know you're mine, and I want to prove it, too. I'll do anything to show you that we belong together."

The room warms up, or perhaps it's just me and my whiplash of emotions swirling inside me, from frustration to internal blame to gushing over Nyko.

"Let's agree that you don't take me to that room ever," I murmur, heart racing at the thought. "But I have a confession for you. You know my shadow ability isn't just rare but apparently intricately tied to my true mates. And I draw power from them only . I mean, let's not test that theory any further, but that means?—"

He's howling, laughing, then coughing viciously. "Best news I've ever heard!" He chokes the words out.

When he finally calms down, I let out a relieved breath.

"All right, no more excitement for you. But you know, the reason I drew on your energy and not Wolfe's or Killian's is because of this," I explain, my hand reaching up to my neck, fingers running across the blood-gold chain. "I think your blood in the necklace connected us deeper."

He cracks a weak grin, eyes twinkling despite the glassiness from exhaustion. "Knowing I helped you makes me feel incredible, my princess."

I smile back, just wishing it hadn't cost him so much.

"So, true mate"—he tugs my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of the palm—"what else can I entertain you with before I seduce you into bed with me?"

I laugh, adoring him the more time we spend together.

"How about finally showing me what your monster form looks like once you're feeling better? A girl's curious."

He smirks, that devious glint in his gaze worrying me. Suddenly, I regret asking him.

"Once I'm healed, you won't hold me back."

"That slightly scares me," I tease, though part of that isn't a lie.

Thunder rumbles outside, louder, closer, and he tightens his hold on my hand. He draws my palm to the side of his face. We stay like that as he leans into my touch, eyes slowly drifting closed, his breath ragged and worrisome.

The room's soft light casts shadows around him. The storm outside rages as he slips open his eyes once more.

"Did Wolfe tell you about his mom? About the Great Desolation?" His question slices through the quiet, his tone no longer playful, more exhausted, more serious.

I nod slowly, my throat tight. "He mentioned… that my father killed his," I whisper. Even saying it buries me under guilt because he's my dad. "It's horrifying to think I'm related to someone capable of that."

"When Wolfe escaped the crumbling castle, he tried to save his mother but never reached her in time…" His response falters. "She plummeted to her death as her bedroom tore in half during the castle's destruction."

My hand flies to my mouth, stifling the gasp escaping. "Oh, shit!"

"He's struggled with the loss of his parents for a long time." He yawns.

My heart aches fiercely for Wolfe, imagining him as a young man facing such brutal losses. I recall his words, how he'd do anything for those who believed in him. He might claim he's no hero, but in my gaze, he's nothing short of one.

"I feel so awful for him," I whisper.

Nyko shifts, grimacing from the movement.

"After the destruction, your father imprisoned a lot of Shadowfen, including Wolfe, kept in a damn dungeon for months until we managed to escape. Clay was with us, too, and it was his idea to steal Howler." He pauses, catching his quick breathing.

The horror of his words chills me to the bone. My skin crawls at the thought of what they faced, being trapped and tormented.

"I… I had no idea," I stammer.

"Just… just so you know." His gaze drifts to the ceiling. "Wolfe's been through a lot. He can be an asshole sometimes, but he's suffered immensely and never stopped fighting for his people. Try not to be too harsh on him. So, if you want to take your anger out on anyone, I give you permission to try killing me again." The corner of his mouth lifts, and he lowers those grinning eyes.

I roll mine. "And what about your family?" I ask softly.

"My father was the King's physician, taken during the Great Desolation. My mother… I never knew her. She died during childbirth with me." His words fade, and his eyes close once more, the confession seeming to drain what little energy he had left.

As I sit there, absorbing his words, my heart beats with sorrow, not just for Nyko but for all of them. They've all lost so much, endured unimaginable pain, yet they found a way to keep fighting toward the goal of finding a new home.

Not much time passes before Nyko slips back into a fitful sleep, and I slip my hand away from him.

I sink deeper into the chair, my thoughts working overtime as the storm outside intensifies, almost mirroring the mess I'm in—scary, dangerous as hell, and looking like there's no way around it.