Page 37 of Alaska Lights

“Rhetorical question. You don’t have to answer that. I know the answer. Anyway, why haven’t you mated him when you’re dying?”

“I’m not dying.”

He gives me a bored, blank glare, which is odd coming from someone who doesn’t have eyes. “You’re going to lie to someone whose entire existence is to reap souls, right? Of all creatures who are dying. You’re really going to pull that? Please, don’t insult me. It’s boring.” He flips his no-hair over his shoulder and crosses his legs.

Oh, he’s a fucking headache.

“Fine. I’m dying. So what? I have six more months, and I’ll be gone. My mate can find someone else⁠—”

“—No, you don’t.” He stares again, the pits of his eyes empty and emotionless, then he laughs, loud and boisterous enough to wake the entire house.

I don’t know what comes over me. Even with how weak I am, I find the energy to move my arm so fast Lorcan can’t expect it, and I wrap my hand around his neck.

“Oooh, careful. I might ask you to squeeze me tighter.”

I lean down, allowing my own eyes to brighten. “Listen, Void,” I sneer. “Kentucky and Oklahoma might welcome you with open arms, but I do not. I am not welcoming.”

“No,” he says in a dramatic disbelief. “You don’t say.”

“But I won’t have you come into my home and wake my mate. He had a hard day and needs his rest. He doesn’t need you waking him up. Got it?”

“Aw, it’s so cute when you guys get all growly.” He squeezes my nose. “Honk. Honk.”

Oh.

I really don’t like him.

He snaps his fingers, and I’m in my chair again, my hands flat on the table, and I can’t move. It’s like he’s glued me to this spot so I can’t move.

“I’m a lot more powerful than you, blood boy, but it’s cute you’re so protective of a mate you don’t even want.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I snarl, trying my hardest to move. “Of course, I want him. I—” I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm down. “I want him more than anything, but he deserves more.”

“Bitten vampires are exhausting to educate.” Lorcan bangs his head on the table three times. “Did your sire teach you anything?”

“No, he saved me from dying from consumption and disappeared.”

“Haven’t you talked to your own child? Oklahoma? About fated mates.”

“A little.”

“Then you know that there is nothing and no one else for your mate after you, right? There is no him finding someone else. If you die, he dies. How…how am I repeating this conversation again?” He drags his hands down his face, exasperated with himself.

My slow heartbeat stops. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You two are intertwined now. Your souls have crossed paths. The tug you feel? It’s your souls needing more of one another. If you die, Alaska, he dies. His soul can’t live without yours.”

A memory comes back. Not from my sire, but from Oklahoma. He said something similar. I pushed it so far out of my mind because I didn’t think having a mate was on the table. I barely listened to him.

“You’re dying, Alaska.” His boney hand lands on top of mine. He is shockingly warm to the touch, uncomfortable like you’d expect since he is all bone. “And it’s more serious than when I visited Kentucky and Oklahoma. Your body is breaking down in ways I’ve never seen before. You’re sore, your gums ache, your bones hurt, you have brain fog, and now blood in your eyes. You’re losing your vision.”

I don’t say anything because I can’t argue this time. He is right.

“You’re losing your abilities too. You are becoming weaker.”

“What’s your point?” I barely recognize my own voice with how it breaks with emotion.

“Why are you still choosing to be in pain when your mate is here to set you free of it?”