Page 70 of Mindeater

I roll my eyes and point at his mouth. “You’re fucking blue. Put it on.”

His nose scrunches in defiance, and after a few seconds of grumbling, he puts it on. While he warms up some, I get back to work, fighting the chill biting into my body and struggling with the flint. No matter how I crack the pieces together over the twigs and kindling, no spark comes. I’m cursing at it, ready to give up, when Saren clears his throat.

“What?” I growl, so damn cold my eyelids feel like they’re going to freeze shut.

“W-want m-me to d-do it?”

Arching a brow, I wave at the sticks. “By all means.”

He holds out a hand, and I plop the flint down. His mastery buzzes up my arms even though my fingertips barely hover over his skin.

Kneeling in the snow, he hits the pieces just right and sparks ignite. “What the fuck?”

He smiles weakly. “We d-didn’t h-have any matches o-one n-night. F-for your c-candles.”

All I can do is blink at him. A fuzzy, horrible memory of Saren using flint to light a piece of cloth flashes through my brain for a split second, then vanishes. My throat is dry, chest tight. Now that there’s a halo of yellow light, keeping the shadows at bay, my nerves ease but not fully. He’s trying to get in my fucking head. Using my worst fear against me.

There’s no way Saren lit candles for me or was anything but a backstabbing, lying little fucker.

My mind is playing tricks on me.

I’m sick.

Yeah, that’s it.

26

Saren

Our small fire does little to chase away the bite of the wind.

Ryx rubs his arms, eyes locked on the dancing flames as our breaths mix with the smoke. I’ve already put down the sleeping bag, tempted to get inside it. I shouldn’t care if he’s cold or underprepared. Anyone else would happily tuck away for the night and let him freeze. No one would think to hand back his cloak.

Before my race rose to power, he would’ve been the one itching to make me comfortable. He’s an alpha after all—a protector and provider. I think all of our baser instincts became dormant, having no need to rely on them as much. Obviously, they’re woven into the very fabric of our being, so they’re not completely useless or absent. But I do wonder what that’d be like.

Having him fuss over me.

Wanting to take care of me.

Giving a damn, for starters.

“Stop staring at me,” Ryx grumbles before shivering.

I sigh and pull off his cloak. Without ceremony, I chuck it at him. He catches it easily and shoots me a dry look. I don’t expect any thanks, and he doesn’t give it.

As he gets it pulled over his shoulders, a thought strikes me.

“Are you a virgin?” I blurt.

He stills, eyes wide but glued to his boots. I clear my throat and rephrase. “I mean, have you ever been with an omega?”

The spasm in his fingers tells me I’ve struck a nerve. The stubborn prick doesn’t answer. “Matthias always said alphas can only be with omegas. That improper breeding with a different designation can be fatal.”

Now he looks at me. Confusion contorts his features. “What the fuck are you on about?”

I take a breath, tuck my hands between my legs to block some of the chill, and say, “I’ve come to the conclusion that everything I know might not be true at all. You’ve lived out here for years—seen things. I just wonder if people in the Barrens still mate the old way. You know, before…”

Ryx’s throat bobs as he swallows. His voice betrays his face. “People fuck who they want. Designation doesn’t matter.”