âNow youâre being responsible,â
Bloodfangâs voice came through, low and steady inside Vorenâs head.
The packhouse was close. Voren could already see the lights cutting through the grey curtain of rain, blurry and warm from this distance. His boots were soaked through, mud clinging to the sides, and every step felt heavier than the last.
âItâs the right thing to do,â
Voren answered back.
Bloodfang went quiet for half a second, like he was choosing his next words carefully. Then...
âSo letâs claim her.â
Voren almost missed a step.
âYouâre out of your mind,â
he shot back, not even trying to hide the irritation threading through his thoughts.
âAm I?â
âSheâs Ravynâs ex-wife.â
Voren kept his eyes forward, jaw tight.
âWe wait for our fated mate. Thatâs how it works. The Alpha code doesnât bend for situations like this. Not even with a mate bond on the table.â
If he has to fight for the love of any woman, then it had to be his fated mate, nothing more, nothing less.
âBut what if she is the one?â
Bloodfang pressed, his tone softer now, which somehow made it worse.
âSheâs not.â
âYou sound real sure for someone who tenses up every time she laughs.â
Voren said nothing to that. The rain came down harder, drumming against the leaves overhead, against his shoulders, against the ground. Something dark passed through his eyes, gone in a second, swallowed by the storm around them.
âCorvine told me the same thing when I ran into him in the city,â
he finally said, his mental voice flat.
âAnd he was right. Sera is an incredible woman. Sheâs strong and sheâs real and yeah, maybe sheâs one of the best people I know. But I donât love her like that. Stop pushing something that isnât there.â
Bloodfang let out a low sound, somewhere between a laugh and a snarl.
âYou keep telling yourself that, Voren. Say it enough times maybe youâll start believing it.â
âI mean itââ
âI just hope,â
Bloodfang cut in, his voice dropping to something that almost sounded like grief,
âthat you donât wait so long you lose her. Because some things donât wait around while you figure yourself out.â
And then he blanked himself completely from Vorenâs mind. A wall came up so fast Voren nearly stumbled from the abruptness of it, the mental space between them going dead silent, the way a room feels after someone slams a door.
Voren stood there for a second, rain soaking into his collar, staring ahead at nothing.
Heâd blocked Bloodfang out plenty of times over the years but being on the receiving end of it was something else entirely. It felt strange in a way he couldnât name. Like heâd reached for something and found his own hand empty.
He shook it off and kept walking.
"Sera!"
Damonâs voice rang out from the packhouse entrance the moment they came through the tree line, and Seraphine dropped from Vorenâs back before heâd even fully stopped.
Her feet hit the wet ground and she straightened up fast, smoothing her hair back like she hadnât just been riding piggyback through a rainstorm like a kid.
"Thank you," she murmured, not quite looking at him.
Her cheeks had gone pink, the kind of pink that had nothing to do with the cold. But then the packhouse doors opened wider and a wave of cool, climate-controlled air rolled out and hit her full in the face and her whole body gave one of those full-body shivers she clearly hadnât planned on.
She wrapped her arms around herself and stepped inside.
"I need to shower." Her eyes moved between the two of them. "Can I use your room, Damon?"
Damon opened his mouth.
"Use mine." Voren said it first, easy and final, like the conversation was already over.
Damon closed his mouth as Seraphineâs eyes flicked to Voren. She knew about the room. Ravyn had kept a room reserved for Voren here at the Centenary packhouse going back years.
And Voren, without anyone asking him to, had done the same thing at Grimroot, kept a space there for Ravyn.
People talked about their friendship the way they talked about something rare because Voren knew exactly who Ravyn was. Knew the man could be cruel, and yet none of it had ever put a dent in what they had. That kind of loyalty wasnât something most people stumbled into.
She pulled herself back to the present.
"Iâd rather use Damonâs," she said, and there was a pointed edge to it, her eyes on Vorenâs face now, watching for something she could not find.
Voren didnât move. Didnât blink only his voice carried that authoritative stance. "I said use mine, and Iâll use his."
"You wonât even let me near your phone," Seraphine argued, one eyebrow raised. "But suddenly your room is fine?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but something more controlled than that, like heâd caught himself before it got too far. "No man with half a brain leaves his phone with a hacker."
Her mouth opened, then closed.
He wasnât wrong and she hated that he wasnât wrong. Sheâd broken into his server once, past all the layers, all the passwords, just to prove a point and Voren had never forgotten it, not for a single day since.
She didnât know whether to laugh or throw something at him. The most aggravating thing about him was that he had the right answer ready every single time, even when you were almost certain he was hiding something.
She exhaled, and let it go.
"Okay." She turned to Damon, pulling her wet hair over one shoulder. "I know itâs still raining, but my bagâ"
"Already on it." Damon was already reaching for his keys. He looked at Voren on his way out. "Fresh towels are in the overhead vanity in the bathroom. Top shelf."
Then he was gone, out into the rain, headlights swinging as he pulled the car around.
Seraphine used Vorenâs room. Voren used Damonâs.
He was done first, clean clothes, hair still a little damp when he stepped back out into the hallway. He heard Damonâs car pull up outside and headed down before anyone else could move.
He was halfway across the front room when he spotted Damon through the glass, bag in hand, shaking rain off his jacket.
"Iâll take it up to her," Voren said, already reaching for the door.
Damonâs whole body went still. Just for a second, but it was there. His shoulders pulled back, something going tight in the line of his jaw. "A maid can handle it."
The air between them tensed up, as Vorenâs eyes darkened. A growl built low in his chest, loud enough that Damon heard it perfectly. "Nobody goes in my room." His hand was already out. "Give me the bag, Damon."