Page 12 of Accidental Blood Lust
“No,” Jareth says sharply. “Don’t you go telling him either. It’s none of his business at this point anyway. If I’d known he was serious about doing that, I would have told him why I was so against it, but it’s too late now.”
I nod in understanding.
“I took him to Cas so he can learn how to be a proper vampire.”
His shoulders sag with relief, letting me know that I was right. It might be over between them, but that doesn’t mean he wants anything bad to happen to Loch.
“Good. Then he won’t die in my garden like an idiot.”
I snort a laugh and he leans against the counter, waiting for the water to boil, both of us staring at each other for a long, silent minute.
“Is it really over between you two? You don’t think you could get over the vampire thing?” I’m not even sure I want an answer, but my curiosity is too strong. I need to know. Not that it matters. If it’s not Loch, it’ll be someone else eventually. And I want it to be. Jareth deserves to be loved. He deserves to be worshipped and taken care of and protected. He deserves every damn thing, and I hate whoever is going to give it to him.
He shakes his head. “Even if Icouldget past the vampire thing, it wouldn’t matter. He’s got a proper fated mate out there somewhere now, right? That’s how it works.” He holds my gaze with a sad smile. “If I ever meet the fates, I’m going to ask them why they screwed mages over in the mate department.”
“Atlas, a gargoyle I work with, just mated a mage. He says they’re fated.”
“Well, lucky him.” Jareth lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m not Loch’s mate though. If I was, he would be able to tell.”
“You don’t know that,” I say weakly. Loch doesn’t know the first thing about being a vampire, but Jareth is probably right—if they were fated, he wouldn’t have been able to get Loch to leave. The pull would have been too strong.
The kettle whistles and Jareth busies himself making two cups of tea. It smells like lavender and chamomile, and I’m betting he got the plants from his garden. He sets one cup down in front of me and makes a move to pull out another chair, but I wrap my arm around him before he can and tug him onto my lap. He only resists for a second before he relaxes into me, curling his large body up a little smaller and tucking himself against me.
“Am I allowed to rage about how unfair all this is?” he asks.
“Of course, you are. You know I wish it was different too.”
“Do you?”
We’ve had this conversation at least a dozen times over the years, but he needs reassurance and familiarity right now, so I give it to him.
“Of course I do. I love you, Jare, I always have. If I could pick a fated mate, I would pick you in a heartbeat.”
“How do you even know that youhavea fated mate? Not every shifter does.”
It’s a well-worn conversation between us, but this time my wolf is restless, and a sick, guilty feeling churns in my stomach.
“Maybe I don’t,” I lie. Is it really a lie when you want it to be true?
The memory of Lochlan’s scent in my nose makes my insides squirm with guilt. It can’t be true, can it? The fates can’t really be this cruel.
FIVE
JARETH
I hate this.
Roman feels so good in my arms, so natural, so fucking wanted, but I’m torn. For the first time in years, I feel conflicted over my lingering feelings for the gorgeous wolf and the ones that haven’t quite died for Loch yet. I want to hold him too.
How fucked up am I that there are two amazing men in this world and I can’t have either of them for different reasons?
“Is Loch okay?” Changing the subject from stupid fated mates is a good idea.
“I think so. Did he tell you what made him decide to do something so reckless?”
I practically cringe as I focus on my tea. “He was very confused about some things and he desperately wanted to be a supe.”
“He mentioned that, but not why.”
