The thought of resuming a life close to his parents was intoxicating. His zebra, still thwarted by the nullifying cuff on his wrist, whinnied with joy. But nobody knew the truth. Or that Pyxlevir despised him. What would his parents think when they learned that he’d run away from everything?
Was it time to stop scurrying across countries? To face his future, no matter how it terrified him?
There were choices for Gramlithyn, few though they appeared. The question was what Gramlithyn truly wanted. Was he prepared to live alone for eternity? To give up any chance of a happy matebond because he couldn’t convince Pyxlevir he was worthy of him?
There were ways to break a matebond. It required a year of living together to start the process. Given how he’d treated Pyxlevir, the elf would probably jump at the opportunity to do whatever was necessary for freedom. Could Gramlithyn survive twelve months of living alongside Pyxlevir to give the elf what he wanted?
Or is there another option?an insidious and hopelessly optimistic voice in his head demanded.
What kind of gamble was being in the same household? Would that somehow convince Pyxlevir that Gramlithyn wasn’t the worst option on the planet? Even if it was a single percentage point possibility, Gramlithyn and his zebra had to fight for it.
Because what he’d been running from was what his heart and soul most desired.
And that was Pyxlevir.
Chapter 7
Blowing out a breath, Pyxlevir tried to make sense of his emotions. Earlier, news had spread like wildfire through the extended D’Vaire family that Killian had teleported Gramlithyn to Las Vegas. Curiously, Gramlithyn had requested a specific Dérive station—one of the many spots throughout Council lands to allow druids in Killian’s company or other sorcerers to travel freely.
No one knew why Gramlithyn hadn’t chosen the one near his parents’ house or another popular family destination like the D’Vaire mansion in Arizona. Killian could offer no further information. Gramlithyn hadn’t mentioned anything about how long he was staying or why he’d made the trip to Vegas. Pyxlevir didn’t know if Gramlithyn had called Killian directly or requested transport through Dérive and was patched through to its owner.
What Gramlithyn hadn’t done was clue his best friend in on anything or contact him following his arrival in town. That hurt Pyxlevir’s feelings, but he also wasn’t surprised. They hadn’t spoken in years, and Pyxlevir had long ago stopped trying to get Gramlithyn to answer his calls or reply to a text.
Not that Pyxlevir had persisted for long following that painful chat six years earlier. But in a few weak moments, Pyxlevir had followed his heart and gotten nowhere.
A knock on Pyxlevir’s bedroom door startled him, but he welcomed the intrusion. The last thing he wanted to do was recall how his mate had left him or how much that still pissed him off. Pyxlevir crossed the space to find two twin gargoyle-cougar hybrids on the other side of the door. Without waiting for an invitation, Colburn tugged Pyxlevir into a crushing hug. It was his usual greeting, and Pyxlevir loved the affectionate nature of his close friends.
Crispin embraced Pyxlevir next. Although Crispin was less exuberant in his enthusiasm, it didn’t mean he was reluctant. If Colburn was a sparking wire, then Crispin was more of a strong, steady current. Their personalities complemented each other well, and Pyxlevir wasn’t sure how he’d ever lived without the duo in his life.
“So, what do you think?” Colburn asked as he shut the door to give them privacy from the centaurs and elf that had already peppered Pyxlevir with concerned questions as they relayed the news to him less than thirty minutes ago. Pyxlevir adored his family, but the last thing he wanted to discuss with them was Gramlithyn or the matebond he’d kept secret for six years.
“About what?” Pyxlevir asked coyly.
Crispin sat on the quilt Larissa D’Vairedraconis had made for him and hugged a throw pillow to his chest. “Pyx, you’re not a good liar. You know what Colby’s talking about. Gramlithyn is back.”
It was on the tip of Pyxlevir’s tongue to defend himself, as he’d proven at least to himself and Gramlithyn that he could conceal whatever he wished, but it was too dangerous a road to navigate. So, he shrugged and joined Crispin on the bed.
Sitting cross-legged, Pyxlevir sighed.
“Did he text you guys?” he asked.
Colburn shook his head. “Nope, no word. Dordan told us about what he learned from D’Vaire, cursed a lot, then shifted into his jaguar and threw himself in the pool.”
Dordanwas the affectionate term Colburn and Crispin used for their biological father’s mate, Watchman-mate Jordan Hawthorne-Panthera. The jaguar shifter was passionately protective of those he loved and had been pissed off about Gramlithyn’s disappearance from the start. Pyxlevir adored him.
“Why didn’t he go to his parents’ house?” Crispin asked.
“Good question,” Pyxlevir replied. “But I don’t know anything about Gramlithyn anymore.”
“What if he doesn’t bother talking to any of us and vanishes again?” Colburn demanded, his yellow-green eyes narrowing as his lips pursed in disgust.
“Maybe we should be the ones texting him,” Crispin suggested.
“Why?” Pyxlevir asked. “Gramlithyn is the one who cut us all out of his life.”
“Well, we don’t know his reason, but there has to be one,” Crispin replied. “The important thing to remember is that we loved being friends with him. If we ever want that again, we have to be willing to forgive him or at least hear him out to understand why.”
Pyxlevir didn’t know what to say. Although he couldn’t assume that the matebond Fate had dropped on them like a bomb was the lone reason Gramlithyn had altered his future, it’d be naive not to acknowledge that it played a part. But Pyxlevir wasn’t ready to share that news with anyone. As weird as it was, Pyxlevir believed it would be unfair to Gramlithyn, somehow, to tattle about something affecting them both.
