Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 159487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
The vision moved on.
He saw them in the Sacred Grove, all three of them this time. Cassandra in white, Sev and he were wearing their uniform shirts and ceremonial leathers.
Some people in the audience stared. Some whispered and pointed. A few looked shocked when they realized this was a three-way Joining ceremony.
Ravik saw himself notice. Then he saw himself kiss first Cassie and then Sev in front of everyone. Both of them kissed him back and Ravik could almost feel their joy as the three of them vowed to be together for life.
But he saw even more… A vaccine spreading through the Mother Ship. Children safely receiving it from Kindred healers. Visskous survivors weeping as the cure reached their sealed cities. Dr. Verityx fluttering around his lab in triumph while Cassandra rolled her eyes and called him “Dr. Owl.”
He saw lives saved because of the three of them but it wasn’t all roses.
He saw himself standing on Rageron again, but not alone this time. Cassie was beside him, chin lifted in that stubborn way he loved, and Severin stood on his other side. His clan watched from the hall steps, some horrified, some curious, some silent with shock.
His father’s face was like stone and his mother was crying.
Ravik saw himself take a breath, then reach for both his mates.
“I am Bonded to them,” the Ravik in the vision said. “Both of them. They are mine, and I am theirs. Any male who has something to say may say it to my face.”
No one stepped forward—no one dared.
The vision blurred, and the Goddess’s voice filled the cabin again.
“This is also a path, Warrior,” she said.
Ravik’s throat ached.
“They’ll hate me,” he whispered. “My clan. My family.”
“Some may,” she said. “Some may not. And some may learn courage from your choices.”
“I don’t know how to be that male—the one in the second vision you showed me, Goddess.” His voice came out low and hoarse. “I know how to fight. I know how to protect. I know how to stand between danger and the ones I care about. But I don’t know how to stand in front of everyone and let them see this.”
“Then begin with one truth,” the Goddess said. “Do not ask what others will think. Ask who you love and who matters most to you.”
Ravik closed his eyes.
The answer came at once—Cassie.
He loved her warmth, her courage, her sarcasm, her softness, and her way of making impossible things sound absurd instead of terrifying. He loved the way she said his name, the way she trusted him to hold her, the way her body opened for him and her heart somehow made room for the broken parts of him.
Then the second name came, quieter but no less true.
Sev.
His best friend. His brother-in-arms. The male who had known him at his worst and stayed. The male who had put the cure in his own body and risked everything to save him. The male Ravik had kissed once in a pleasure house and spent years pretending he hadn’t wanted to kiss again.
Ravik covered his face with one hand.
“Gods,” he whispered. “What am I going to do?”
“That is up to you, Warrior.” The Goddess’s voice was growing fainter in his ear now, as though she was fading away. “I have shown you what may be. Choose wisely.”
And then she was gone.
64
SEVERIN
For a long time after Ravik left, neither Severin nor Cassandra said a word.
The door had closed behind him with a soft pneumatic sigh that seemed entirely too quiet for something that had just shattered Severin’s world. He stood there for a moment, staring at the place where his best friend had been, feeling as though every part of himself had gone still and hollow. It was a strange sensation—like being wounded in battle but not feeling the pain yet.
Then Cassandra made a soft, broken sound that brought him back to reality.
Severin had turned at once and saw her sitting on the edge of the enormous nest-bed, one hand pressed to her mouth and the other gripping the red silk robe where it covered her heart. Her eyes were shining with tears, and the sight of them was enough to force him out of his own grief.
He crossed the room and sat beside her.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching for her carefully. “Come here.”
She came at once, folding herself against him as though she had been waiting for permission. Severin wrapped his arms around her and held her close, resting his cheek against her hair while she trembled against his chest. Her body was warm and soft and still faintly scented with nectar, honey, and the strange serum Dr. Verityx had given her.
Underneath all of that was sorrow and need.
Not the sharp, feverish need of the virus this time—though he could still smell traces of that too. This was emotional—a deep, aching grief that had nothing to do with biology and everything to do with losing a piece of the three-sided shape they had somehow become.