Without another word, he turned and let himself out. The little dragon jumped off the table and raced toward the door, taking up a guard position. I looked at it without really seeing.
I didn’t know what the right thing to do was.Memories of my old life floated to the surface. My fucking phone, technology. I could Google anything. Christ, I could ask AI if Xan loved me or not. Even if the answer had been a machine's hallucination, at least I would have gotten something to help me make a decision… but, did I need that anymore?
I hadn’t worried about the ‘right thing’ since this bat-shit delusion began, because I thought none of it was real. A tear gathered at the corner of my eye, and I pressed my palms into my cheeks to keep from crying.
It was real—all of it.
Rowan snored so loud he almost woke himself up, and I pulled my palms away from my eyes to look at his sleeping lump on the floor. My old life sank, replaced by my new one.
Friends. Acceptance. Understanding.
I wasn’t alone. I didn’t exist to make others comfortable. There was no perfect decision. Even my ‘bad’ choices brought me here, between two of the best men I’d ever met, with friends and magic of my own.
People would try to steer me, but I didn’t have to follow.
After taking a minute to wash my face and change into a set of clean pajamas, I softly padded back to Rowan and Cayden, snuggling back into my spot. My affirmations repeated, feeling right. My castle full of hot mages filled my imagination until sleep called me once more.
If Alex pulled me back into that fake hospital… the thought alone shot adrenaline through me, burning away any grogginess from sleep. I bolted upright; my hand pressed against my collar. It turned cold, as if Alex wanted me to know I’d been alone in my mind until I thought of him first.
My heart thundered.
Even unable to see his face, I knew he smiled and waved before vanishing once more.
Strong arms dragged me back down. “It’s okay, Q-tip.”
Another pair tugged me from Rowan. My face pressed into Cayden’s bare chest. Thank God it wasn’t his blood-spattered shirt.
“It’s OK,” he murmured, stroking my hair. “We’re not there.”
The dragon purred a half-growl, rolled over, and fell back asleep in Cayden’s chair.
Memories ricocheted through my skull. Cayden didn’t know about Alex. I hadn’t told anyone about him. He was talking about his family and his Prophet/grandfather/dad, who tried to brainwash me.
Cayden. That was his family. His voice had been one of the many breaking me down. It wasn’t just a few days for him. He’d been born under his family's control; he’d lived and breathed everything the Prophet preached. While I’d struggled with Alex, Cayden’s world had been crumbling around him.
Alex vanished as my heart cracked open and bled for my best friend. I wrapped my arms around him as best I could, with us still lying on the shoved-together mattresses, and squeezed.
“We’re not.” I kissed his chest and ran my palm down his smooth waist to rest on his hip.
Cayden sucked in a breath and shoved me back, as if my touch burned. The sting of rejection cut deeper than his shove… but I understood.
I’d been half gone on that altar, but Cayden hadn’t. He’d freed my bindings with one pull, like he’d tied them himself. He knew the ropes, literally and figuratively. The weight of his actions, now that he understood the world, must be smothering him.
Rowan sat up and hauled me back against his chest. His arms locked around my hips. I looked at Cayden. He’d obviously taken off his bloody shirt and washed his face, but dried blood still clung to his hairline. A strip went down the side of his neck.
“Quinn.” Cayden squeezed his fist. “I can’t.”
“You can,” I whispered.
Rowan’s fingers pressed into my hips. “Considering everything that happened...”
I jabbed Rowan’s thigh with my elbow to cut him off. “That’s why you must, Cay.”
Cayden blinked at me. “Quinn, you saw what my family… what I…”
I put my hand out. “I felt you hard as a rock from seeing me all tied up and surrounded in red silk.”
“Wait, ah, what?” Rowan squeezed me closer to him, but I ignored him.
