Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Keegan leaned against the bar of a different night-club in a different part of the city, sipping his glass of O-negative fae blood as the pulsing beat of the club's music vibrated through his body.

He had no great interest in partying, but he knew Jaron would not show up here, and that was all that mattered for now.

He'd spent countless hours unable to sleep during the day, trying to look into Jaron's future.

He didn't glimpse as much as he would have liked before he exhausted himself, but the paths of Jaron's future he did manage to follow taught him a few things about the shifter.

For one, Jaron seemed to fight with his parents often. He'd likely joined the Mortal Rights Task Force because they gave him a sense of community he didn't find at home. He'd even moved in with an elderly witch who seemed to take care of him not unlike a mother.

In return, Jaron helped her take care of her herb garden, cooked her meals sometimes and knitted her warm clothes from yarn that wasn't part of his hoard.

That was another thing that had become clear to Keegan; Jaron hoarded yarn, and the little strip he'd given Keegan had been part of that hoard once.

Idly, Keegan put his hand in his pocket where he kept the piece of string, feeling for it with his fingers.

It was extremely unusual for a dragon shifter to part ways with their treasure, even if just for a moment. To give it away entirely…

Keegan took another sip of his blood, puzzling things over in his head once more while his eyes scanned the crowd around him. There were a number of beautiful people on the dancefloor. One or two of them had even tried flirting with him, but Keegan wasn't interested.

The only man Keegan was interested in was the one who would eventually end Keegan's life.

How fucked up was that?

Keegan knew with certainty that Jaron would kill him, and yet, Keegan was obsessed with his warm brown eyes and his bright smile.

Keegan knew they were the same person, but real-life Jaron looked nothing like the crying man in his vision.

It didn't make sense.

Keegan's jaw worked as frustration built inside him.

"You look lonely." A woman with fox ears sidled up to him. "Would you like to share a drink with me?"

Keegan shook his head and left his empty glass with the bartender, walking outside to get some fresh air.

It was a warm night. A short one too. He'd have to go home or find other shelter for the day soon.

According to his earlier deep-dive into the future, it was roughly 75% safe for him to go home. In most of the possible futures he'd seen, Jaron didn't stick around after visiting the club and not finding Keegan there. The majority of the time, he talked to Mordyn and left.

Keegan couldn't determine the exact contents of the conversation—his visions were rarely that clear—but he got the feeling that Mordyn was a little too enthusiastic about Keegan gaining a fan.

There was something to be wary of there.

And there was still a non-zero chance that if Keegan went back to Rubyville now, he might encounter Jaron there. And if he did… there was a high chance that he might do something he would regret.

He'd seen visions of himself kissing Jaron.

Visions of the two of them naked, bodies pressed together on Keegan's bed, Jaron's hands running through Keegan's hair, Keegan sinking his fangs into Jaron's neck…

He shuddered, pushing the images out of his mind and reminding himself once again that the cheeky shifter was his killer.

He might be something else too, but Keegan wasn't ready for that particular truth.

How fucked would he be if Jaron was his fate in more ways than one?

Too fucked for words.

Halfway home, he stopped and pulled out his phone to dial Mordyn's number. "Has he left yet?" he asked when the other vampire picked up.

"You mean your dragon?"

"You know what I mean." Keegan rubbed his face, tired.

"Couldn't you peek into the future and find out?"

"I'm exhausted. Just tell me. I already know you and Jaron plotted something behind my back, so you owe me a simple answer." This accusation was a gamble. Keegan wasn't a hundred percent sure that Jaron and Mordyn had talked tonight, but it was very likely that they had, and that Mordyn had delighted in it.

"He's left," Mordyn said. "You can come home."

"Thanks," Keegan said, hanging up without another word.

Home sounded really good.

When Keegan arrived back at the coven's base, he was glad to find that Mordyn had not lied to him.

Something was up, though, because Mordyn was smiling in that way that meant he was too pleased with himself for Keegan to relax.

"Where have you been?" Mordyn asked, following Keegan down the stairs to the vampires' living quarters. "Hiding?"

Keegan shrugged. "I checked out some other clubs to see what the competition is doing."

"Anything we need to worry about?"

"Nah." Keegan turned to look at his friend. "How long was Jaron here?"

"Maybe an hour."

"You talked for an hour?"

Mordyn quirked a brow. "Is that an issue?"

"No issue." Keegan licked his lips, not wanting to reveal too much. "A little curious, though. I didn't think the two of you would have too much to talk about."

"I'm sure he would have preferred to talk to you if you hadn't fled the nest like a scared chicken."

Keegan shook his head, ignoring the jab. "I made the best choice I could make given the circumstances." He didn't expect Mordyn to understand, not truly. Mordyn was one of his closest friends and Mordyn loved him like family, but there was no way Mordyn could understand what it was like to be a seer. His friends thought that it was all about meddling in people's affairs and manipulating timelines for fun—and sometimes it was that.

Most of the time, though, he simply tried to mitigate risks for all of them. Often, that involved not telling anyone what he knew because that knowledge would influence their actions in ways that made the future less predictable, and thus, less safe.

His friends joked that he liked to be mysterious, that he didn't want people to understand him or how his powers worked, but that wasn't really it.

More than once, he'd wished he could confide in his friends, but it was never worth the risk. They'd never be able to see the world the way he did.

And so he remained an enigma, acting behind the scenes as the only one who could.

Keegan wasn't going to cry about it.

"If you don't mind," he said to Mordyn, "I'm going to get some sleep."

Mordyn nodded, but he didn't move away when Keegan opened the door to his bedroom, as if he was waiting for something.

Keegan half-expected Jaron to jump out at him from behind the door, but the room was empty.

He was about to exhale in relief and ask Mordyn what he was still standing there for when he spotted a flash of color on his desk, right next to his laptop.

A bottle of bright red blood.

Keegan stared at the bottle of blood on his desk. Was that…? No, it couldn't be. "What is this?"

"A gift," Mordyn said, grinning. "From your dragon."

"My dragon?" Keegan repeated, taking a step closer to the desk. The blood was a vivid crimson, and even from a distance, Keegan could smell its richness. Dragon blood. Jaron's blood.

He'd known this could happen, but he hadn't believed that it would. "Why would he leave me this?"

Mordyn shrugged. "Maybe he's trying to get your attention."

Keegan reached out and picked up the bottle. If Jaron wanted attention, this was certainly the way to get it. Keegan knew better than to be tempted by his blood, but the smell of it reached his nose and the rational part of him struggled to stay in control. He wanted to drink this blood more than anything, to let it coat his tongue and slide down his throat. He wanted to know what Jaron tasted like.

"Are you going to drink it?" Mordyn asked, his tone teasing. "Or are you too much of a coward?"

Keegan glared at him. "I'm not a coward."

"Then why don't you knock it back?"

"Because it's weird," Keegan said, setting the bottle back down on the desk. "Who the hell leaves a present like this?"

Mordyn laughed. "Your new fan, that's who."

Keegan's lips thinned. "He's not my fan."

"Oh, please. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, and now he's left you a gift." Mordyn gestured at the bottle. "I'd say he made quite the statement."

"And you helped him." There would have been no other way for Jaron to gain access to Keegan's room.

"You're welcome," Mordyn said, still smiling.

"You don't think this is a little extreme?"

"How else do you surprise a seer?"

Keegan's gaze narrowed. "What makes you think I want to be surprised?"

"Fine, maybe you don't want to be surprised," Mordyn conceded, "but I think you need to be."

"That's bullshit."

"You can't live your whole life in a calculated way. You'll never find love like that."

Keegan wanted to scream. Who said he wanted to find love? And even if he did, Mordyn knew nothing about what Jaron was going to do to him in the future. "This is payback, isn't it? Because I got you and Apollo together?"

"You've had this coming for a long time."

Keegan wanted to ask Mordyn to stay out of this, but by the look on the other vampire's face, he knew his friend would never listen. "Just leave me alone," Keegan said. "I need to get some sleep."

"You're not going to taste it?"

Keegan shot Mordyn a hard glare. "If you don't leave this room in the next ten seconds, I'll predict the next ten times you and your mate are going to be intimate and I'll make sure that someone or something is going to cockblock you every single time."

"You wouldn't," Mordyn said.

Keegan started counting.

Mordyn held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you to your brooding." He turned to go, but not before throwing one last teasing remark over his shoulder. "Don't think too hard, Keegan. Sometimes it's better to just go with your gut."

Keegan waited until he heard Mordyn's footsteps recede before he turned his attention back to the bottle of blood. He hesitated for a moment, then picked it up again, uncorking it and bringing it to his nose. The scent was even stronger now, rich and heady, making Keegan's mouth water.

Keegan's fingers tightened around the bottle as he stared at it, his mind warring with itself. He shouldn't drink it. Tasting Jaron's blood would only complicate things further.

But it smelled so damn good. Like a five-star dinner, and Keegan was hungry for it.

Before he knew what he was doing, he'd brought the bottle to his lips and taken a sip.

The moment the blood touched his tongue, something inside of Keegan broke—while something else snapped into place. It was the strangest sensation. The blood was the sweetest he'd ever tasted, and as he gulped it down, he slowly realized that the thing that had broken was his self-restraint. He couldn't stop drinking, couldn't make himself pull back and put the bottle down.

Dragon blood had always been his favorite. He'd expected to enjoy this blood, but he hadn't expected it to be this good.

It was as if every single drop he swallowed awakened something deep inside of himself.

The thing that had snapped into place.

A craving for more than just blood. But while blood was all he had, he took it greedily until the bottle was empty and he was licking the last drops from his lips.

As he set the bottle down on the desk, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He braced himself against the desk, his vision blurring and then sharpening with a clarity he had never experienced before. But instead of seeing the future, he found himself looking into the past.

He saw a young dragon-shifter, no more than seven or eight years old, standing in a courtyard surrounded by other dragon children. They were all taking turns breathing fire, but when it was this child's turn, only a weak puff of smoke escaped his lips. The other children laughed and pointed, their voices cruel and mocking.

"Breathless!" they chanted, pushing Jaron around. "Breathless Jaron can't even breathe fire!"

Jaron's face was flushed with shame and anger, his small hands clenched into fists at his sides. He opened his mouth, trying to summon even the tiniest flame, but nothing came out. The other children only laughed harder.

Keegan's heart ached for the young Jaron, and he found himself wanting to reach out and comfort him. But before he could do anything, the vision shifted and changed, and he saw Jaron, only a little older, being scolded by his parents.

"You must try harder, Jaron," his father said sternly. "You're a Tymera and you're supposed to excel, not embarrass your family."

His mother shook her head. She didn't say a word, but her disappointment with her son was clear on her face.

Jaron looked like he wanted to say something back, but he didn't dare. His parents continued lecturing him for several more minutes, and Keegan watched helplessly as Jaron's shoulders sank lower and lower. By the time he was dismissed, he looked utterly defeated.

"You're not worthless," Keegan murmured under his breath. He'd known the dragon for all of two minutes, but he already knew this much. There was a kind person hidden in the hoodie. The sad thing was that Keegan could not reach into the past and tell him that.

As the next vision materialized, though, someone else told Jaron in his place. The elderly witch Keegan had seen in another vision when he'd done his deep dive earlier that day. Malkira, the woman who would eventually open her home to Jaron.

Jaron was maybe twelve or thirteen in this vision. He sat on a bench with a teenage scowl on his face.

Malkira approached him with slow but steady steps. She had long, white hair that flowed down her back, and her face was lined with wrinkles that spoke of a life well-lived.

She sat down next to Jaron and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What's got you looking so sad?"

Jaron shrugged, not looking up. "Nothing," he mumbled.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me." Malkira reached into a bag at her side and pulled out a handknit scarf, the yarn a soft, muted blue. "Here," she said, wrapping the scarf around Jaron's shoulders. "Take heart, Jaron. It's not your fault your family is so narrow-minded they can't see the bright future ahead of you."

Jaron looked up at her then, his eyes wide with surprise. He fingered the soft yarn of the scarf, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't mention that dragon shifters never got cold, so the scarf was unnecessary. Instead, he wrapped it more tightly around himself like the precious gift it was.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Malkira patted his shoulder. "You're welcome, child. Remember, never let other people define your worth."

Jaron nodded, his smile growing wider. He stood up, clutching the scarf close to his chest. "I won't forget," he promised.

He took the scarf home and awarded it pride of place in his growing hoard of yarn.

The next vision, finally, showed him something that hadn't happened yet. He saw himself and Jaron walking together through a moonlit park. The details were hazy, as they always were in visions of the future, but Keegan could feel the warmth and affection radiating from himself towards the dragon shifter.

They were talking, their lips moving. Keegan couldn't make out the words they spoke, but he could see the way their hands were intertwined, fingers laced together in easy intimacy.

As they walked, Jaron reached into a bag he carried and pulled out a familiar blue scarf—the same one Malkira had given him all those years ago. With a tender smile, he wrapped it around Keegan's neck, his fingers brushing against the vampire's skin in a feather-light caress.

Keegan smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Jaron's lips. The dragon shifter's arms came up to encircle him, holding him close as they lost themselves in the moment.

Keegan gasped as the visions shifted once more, this time flooding his mind with an endless array of possible futures. In each one, he saw himself and Jaron together, their lives intertwined as if there was no other way for them to be.

The different possibilities blurred together, one bleeding into the next like watercolors on a canvas.

In one, they were curled up together on a couch, Jaron's head resting on Keegan's chest as they watched a movie. Keegan's fingers were tangled in Jaron's hair, idly playing with the soft strands as they laughed at something on the screen.

Another vision showed them in a kitchen, Jaron wearing an apron and covered in flour as he attempted to bake a cake for his younger sibling who'd come to live with them. Keegan was perched on the counter, watching with an amused grin as Jaron cursed under his breath and tried to salvage the disaster.

The next moment, Keegan saw them both dressed to the nines in suits that had clearly been tailored to fit them perfectly. They were dancing together, their bodies moving in perfect sync as if they'd been doing this for years. Jaron dipped Keegan low, then pulled him back up and spun him out before tugging him close again.

Yet another glimpse revealed a quiet moment, the two of them sitting on a beach, Jaron's head on Keegan's shoulder as they watched the water roll toward them in lazy waves, their hands clasped together.

There were other visions too, of walks in the park, lazy Sunday evenings in bed, curled up together reading or talking or simply enjoying each other's company.

He saw birthdays and anniversaries, laughter-filled game nights with their friends.

Snapshots of a life Keegan had never dared to imagine for himself.

As the visions began to fade, Keegan found himself on the carpeted floor of his room, staring up at his ceiling. The taste of dragon blood lingered on his tongue while his head was swimming, his body tingling as if he'd been plugged into a high-voltage wire.

Reality felt unbearably cold without his mate by his side.

That was what Jaron was, undeniably.

The missing piece of his soul, the partner fate had intended for him, but…

Keegan blinked, struggling to clear his head as he sat up.

But how could those visions come to pass if Jaron was going to kill him?

Keegan reached for his powers, but he was drained. He couldn't check if he'd missed any potential thread in his future that didn't lead to his demise at Jaron's hands, but it had to exist. It had to.

How else could he have seen what he'd seen just now?

Was it possible that all of those visions would come true before Jaron inevitably killed him?

Keegan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The future he'd seen…

He wanted it.

But was it worth dying for?