Page 57 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Mate.

I blinked, disoriented. Not from the hit, but from the vision. From what it meant.

Aren had a mate.

Now. Of all times. After everything.

“Ally!” August dropped to his knees, panic etched into every line of his face. I tasted copper, licked blood from my split lip, and laughed.

“About damn time,” I rasped, a feral grin stretching my lips. God, he hit like Aren. I loved it. August’s answering concern had me laughing as my head spun…and his wide-eyed horror only made me laugh harder.

And then—I lunged.

The crystal crunch of snow and ice beneath our boots was the only sound, save the distant hum of rubber tearing across the highway. Still no sign of Kingsley—and it had been a day and a half since we arrived. Not that we could complain. The safe house was stocked with snacks, books, and a ridiculous number of timeless movies. But it wasn’t what I’d seen in the visions, and that…unsettled me.

“Aren has a mate?” August asked, still parsing through the chaos from our sparring session.

“I think so.”

“‘Think’ doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“I’m not sure how else to describe it. She has to be,” I breathed. Lately, my visions had lagged—like a glitch in the system. Blurred and imprecise. I didn’t know if it was August’s immense power beside me, or Adrastos lurking again, veiled in mist and shadow. Hiding. Obscuring.

Regardless, I’d seen Kingsley marching up to the cabin by morning, giving me hell over his brownies. And as cozy as this temporary exile was, we didn’t have time for comfort. Too much to decipher. Too little time. Too many alliances we needed yesterday.

I blew out a frustrated breath, watching it cloud in front of me, the snow crackling beneath our boots.

“You sure we’re not being punished?” August asked dryly, hoisting the axe. It came down with a crack, splitting the log cleanly. He set another piece on the block.

I laughed and tossed him a smile, enjoying how his gaze lingered even as he swung again—crack, thud.

“A cozy mountain cabin with your new wife is punishment?”

“New wife,” he scoffed. “Collectively, how many years do you think we’ve been married?”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. “Haven’t thought to count.”

“At least the human equivalent of a normal, not-hunted-by-demons marriage, right?”

I snorted. “Probably. It has to be at least a century?”

“Feels longer.”

“Ouch.”

He grinned as he split another log, the pieces thudding softly into the snow. “I just meant…you feel like a part of me. Like you’ve always been there. As long as I can remember.”

“As long as the visions can show.”

He paused, then lifted his gaze. “So. You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, we’re not being punished. Don’t you like the snow?”

“Generally? Sure. But after a few weeks in the Florida surf every day? Not so much.”

“Fair.”

“Freya and the Greek brothers are warm and sunny. Aren’s in Santa Bloom. And we’re here. In the frozen tundra.”