"Because Tony will be convinced that you left him for me, and he will be hurt and angry. It's not a good way to start what will be a three-body problem."
She looked confused. "A what?"
"A three-body problem is when three forces are locked together with no simple, stable solution. When only two people are involved, things settle into a predictable orbit, one pushes, the other pulls, and they find a middle path. But the moment a third person enters, everything gets unpredictable. Each one tugs on the others in different ways, and the whole system starts to wobble. No one can tell where things will go next, because every small shift disrupts the balance again."
4
NAVUH
Consciousness returned in fragments, like shards of a broken screen slowly piecing themselves back together.
First came the awareness of pain, Navuh's skull throbbing with a deep, relentless ache, his neck burning as if someone had pressed a hot iron to his spine. Occasionally, electric jolts shot down pathways that ended in nothing, his damaged nerves firing signals into a void.
His body below the chest felt distant, disconnected, as if it belonged to someone else.
Then the scent registered—familiar, comforting.Areana.
Navuh tried to open his eyes, but even that simple action required tremendous effort. His eyelids felt weighted, resistant, and when he finally managed to crack them open, the dim light of the room sent splinters of pain through his skull.
He couldn't move his head. He couldn't move anything.
He remembered now that he was so completely paralyzed that he couldn't move even his head. The clan's doctor had promisedthat it was temporary and that he was expected to make a full recovery, but it would take months.
And then what?
Execution?
Stasis?
A lifetime of captivity?
Or none of the above if he played his cards right.
That thought was not enough to quell the spike of fury that cut through the fog of sedation and whatever else the clan's physician was pumping into his veins. Perhaps he wasn't as injured as she claimed, and she was drugging him to feel as if he was?
His fury flared to a new height.
The leader of the Brotherhood, ruler of an empire that spanned the globe and commanded an army of immortal warriors, who had toppled governments and shaped the course of human civilization for five millennia, was at the mercy of a small red-haired female, and he couldn't even turn his head to see his mate.
"Areana." His voice came out as a rasp, barely recognizable as his own.
"I'm here." Her familiar, soft voice was thick with emotion, and its effect on the fury was immediate. It dimmed, simmering below the surface but no longer hot enough to consume all rational thought.
"I'm right here, my love," she repeated.
"I can't move my head to see you." The words scraped against his dry throat. "Can you stand up?"
There was movement, the whisper of fabric, and then she appeared in his field of vision. His heart contracted at the sight of her.
She was alive, whole, and uninjured.
Her golden hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her pale eyes glistened with unshed tears. She wore a simple blue-green-colored gown and, as always, her ethereal beauty took his breath away.
"Thank the merciful Fates you are unharmed," he rasped.
Areana's composure cracked, and as tears started spilling down her cheeks, she pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle a sob.
He wanted to lift his hands and wipe those tears away, wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her against his chest until she stopped heaving. He wanted to stroke her hair and cup her face, but he couldn't even move his hand.
