Page 69 of Caged

That’s it. I give up. I can’t stay quiet and frankly, I don’t want to. I drop to the floor, pressing my palms into my eye sockets like it’ll somehow erase the image of her small, shivering body from my mind.

I open my eyes, blinking spots out of my vision right in time to see her move. She uncurls from her tight ball and stretches, rolling onto her back.

She exhales, a soft sigh I feel through my whole body.

I gravitate toward her. There’s no other way to explain it. One second I’m sitting there, forearms resting on my knees. The next, I’m leaning forward and hovering over her. Reaching for her, like I have any right to touch her at all.

Like I’ve already decided she’s mine.

Haven’t I, though?

She is mine.

Logic tells me there’s no way to know if someone’s your Fated Mate just by proximity. I’m well aware that there has to be something that causes the Bond snap into place.

Scent is usually the first indicator, simply because it’s most accessible. Of course, for vampires and wolven, it’s impossible to have a species-specific Fated Bond with someone who isn’t your Scent Match to begin with.

Blood Mates and Moon Mates are never guaranteed, even if we do find our Scent Match. It’s rare to be blessed with the second, species-specific Bond. Beyond rare.

Still, I’ve heard stories of vampires who, for one strange reason or another, somehow get a taste of their Blood Mate’s blood prior to meeting them.

So scent isn’t always the first indicator of a Bond, it’s just the easiest to find.

I know all of this, but none of what I know seems to matter. Because against all odds—against everything I’ve ever been taught—I know this Omega belongs to me.

And I belong to her.

I should be ecstatic at the realization. I should feel nothing but joy. This should be the single most momentous discovery of my life.

It should be, but it’s not.

Because without knowing what Bonds us, I’m left with a thousand questions and no answers. Worse—I have no fucking proof.

Fates, it’s obvious now. I don’t know how I didn’t see it. The swirling, silver pool in my chest is a Mate Bond. I just don’t know what kind, let alone what caused it to appear in the first place.

And I have no way to research it. Because it shouldn’t exist.

I need information. Proof. I need answers I don’t fucking have and don’t know how to get.

Gods know Daxen won’t accept “because my instincts say so.” He’ll demand proof before considering that a female he’s suspicious of is actually my Fated Mate.

Fates, he’s already leading a charge against her. Already convinced I’m either compromised, cursed, hormone-poisoned, or stupid.

Possibly all four.

As desperate as I am to take her out of this house, doing so before I can prove what she is to me will end terribly for all of us. Dax will convince everyone that she somehow got to me—manipulated me, or cursed me with magic she doesn’t have and probably doesn’t even exist.

The fact that Dax doesn’t believe in magic won’t matter. He’ll double down, then triple down. And once my brother gets momentum, nothing can fucking stop him.

The worst part is, he’ll do it because he’ll genuinely believe he’s protecting Vae and me. He won’t do it to be a dick or to prove a point, but because the asshole loves us more than anything else in the universe. There’s nothing he won’t do, and no one he won’t destroy, to keep us safe.

Even if it means saving us from ourselves.

I punch my thigh, disgusted by my options. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s best for her. I don’t know how to keep her safe.

She’s mine, Fatesdamnit. She’s mine and she’s living in a nightmare and her father is dangerous.

But my packmate might be even more dangerous.