Atria hated that part most of all.
High Priestess Desdemona was right all along: Atria was a defective empath with a rotten center and now people were dead, lives were ruined, because of it.
But she couldn’t express any of this to Kaz, whose concern and determination swirled faster every hour. How could she even begin to explain the enormity of her wrongdoing? How did one even begin to apologize for such a profound wrong?
As they forged a path deeper into the wild heart of Montana, the acidic buildup of dread, guilt, and humiliation only got worse. Kaz was taking herhome.To his deceased mother’s house.
When she was a lonely teenager in her stone quarters at the Sanctuary, Atria used to imagine what it might be like to have a mate who was proud of her. She pictured being brought home to a large family to be passed around for hugs and kisses. She used to spend hours cycling through fantasies, imagining herself with a dragon mate, a witch, a fey covey, a giant, a damn centaur, anyone and everyone.
So long as they accepted her, she would be happy.
It felt like cosmic punishment to finally achieve that dream, only to know with absolute certainty she didn’t deserve it.
What had she done to earn this? Nothing. She’d fought Kaz and snapped at him and then let him cause strife in his family for her without a care in the world. Now he intended to bring her home, to share yet more of himself with her. She hadn’t earned any of it.
The beauty of the mountains, the crisp air, and the lush green of the land only made her feel worse.
The jagged, snow-tipped peaks were breathtaking and the sky was a dome of pure, polished azure. Her mate was sweeping her off to paradise and she couldn’t even look at him or the scenery without feeling like she ought to be left on the side of the road for the buzzards to take care of.
Dusk was a vivid streak of magenta on the horizon when they dipped down into a valley. Rolling prairie replaced mountains, and the hulking shapes of bison ambled in great herds along the sides of the road, their heads down as little calves trotted between their legs. They were safe out there, protected by strict poaching laws as well as the sigils laid into the asphalt of the road, which kept them out of danger from passing vehicles.
Atria watched them with tired, bloodshot eyes as Kaz took a turn onto a gravel road.
They sped through miles of rolling grassland before she could even begin to make out the shape of a roof in the distance.
She sat up, a little bit of energy returning to her limbs as curiosity prickled. “Is this it?”
Kaz’s jaw tightened. A flare of apprehension mingled with old grief and a new, bright anticipation in his churning aura. “Yes. This is the homestead.”
“Where exactly are we?”
“We’re a few hours south of the Northern Territories.” Gesturing to his left, he added, “Boise is that way. There’s a small town called Montague about thirty minutes east of us and Lost Lake is about ten minutes west.”
“Lost Lake?”
Kaz shrugged. “Better than the name of the other one. It’s closer to Montague and very creatively namedBig Lake.”
Atria somehow managed to crack a smile. Squinting against the glare of the sunset on the hood of the car, she asked, “How big of a homestead is it?”
“It’s small. My mother built it after she graduated from college, but she never had time to expand it.”
Right,she thought, queasiness returning. It was easy to forget that all she knew about Kaz’s mother was that she had a child with Mad Thad, the tyrant of the Protectorate. Atria swallowed hard as the shape of a low, conical roof began to resolve itself against the stark countryside.
“What did she study?”
For once, Kaz didn’t look at her. “Architecture.”
He doesn’t want to talk about her.It was as clear as day — reluctance was written in every line of his body and expression. Atria had the sudden insight that eventhis,bringing her to this sacred space where his deceased mother once lived, was costing him much.
Her eyes dropped to the dashboard. Instinctively, she reached for Kaz’s soothing ocean, looking for the familiar comfort of his aura, but she recoiled almost immediately. What was she doing? She didn’t deserve to tether, let alone be a witness to every tiny flicker of emotion he felt. He clearly didn’t want to share this with her and she had to respect that.
After all, who was she? He said she was his mate and he was going above and beyond that call to protect her, but other than that they were strangers. They hadn’t spoken about what he wanted. Besides their sexual compatibility, they knew virtually nothing about one another.
Did he evenlikeher? Why would he? She’d shown nothing but the worst parts of herself since they met.
A cold, slimy feeling wormed its way into her chest as she reluctantly began to extract herself from Kaz’s aura, where she had taken refuge for so long. Brick by brick, she began to build up her walls again — for his sake rather than hers.
By the time they pulled up in front of what Atria immediately recognized as a traditional northern orcish homestead, she was once more separate from him.
