Page 20 of Bonded By Tea and Tarot

“She’s bruised, but handling it well. Seems to be up and moving around fine. And she’s gorgeous,” I say, eyeing Jayce to see if he wants to hear more. His gaze locks on me, so I continue. “Long silvery-blonde hair, a septum piercing that does things to me, and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” I shake my head, baffled all over again at how stunning she is. “I got the sense she’s stubborn, or maybe doesn’t like accepting help.”

“What’s her place like?” he asks.

“Nicer than ours,” I huff. “Big. Lots of crystals all over the place, what I could see from the entryway and kitchen, anyways. She seems to have a particular—” I stop, searching for the word. “I don’t know. Gothic witchy aesthetic. I guess.”

“Gothic witchy? What the hell does that mean?”

I snort a laugh this time, shaking my head in amusement now. “I don’t know, man. There were lots of dark colors. Green and purple and black. Vintage glass lights and stacks of books and stuff all over the place.”

“Huh,” Jayce says, staring off into space as his eyes unfocus, probably trying to picture it. Good luck. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“I gave both of them my number,” I say. “Got theirs, too.”

There’s no mistaking it this time. Jealousy flares in his eyes and his shoulders tense beneath his tight tee.

“Aury mentioned setting up a date. If she wants.”

His jaw audibly clicks, and guilt sits heavy in my stomach.

“We didn’t have much time to talk, so I didn’t get a chance to tell them about you. I will as soon as I hear from either of them, though. I’m sure they’d be happy for you to come, too.”

He averts his gaze, staring down at the floor between us. It hurts my heart, knowing that I hurt him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going. Or ask if you wanted to come. Or tell them about you,” I say, my voice getting quieter as each apology rambles out of me.

He sucks in a slow breath, then his eyes meet mind. Hurt, want, anguish and confusion, all swirling through them.

“Why didn’t you?” he says, voice so low I have to strain to hear it.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

He pinches his lips together, shoulders tensing even further. Then nods once, turns, and strides out of the kitchen.

Chapter Fifteen

Jayce

I’m dead tired from a week of work. Construction is no joke, and although I’m the foreman, that doesn’t mean I don’t step in and help out. I’m used to hard work, and I won’t ask my crew to do something I’m not willing to do myself.

Despite the physical strain, though, the mental exhaustion is worse. I was already jealous, afraid to hope, when Hayden told me about Siobhan after treating her. I’ve never been a jealous man, but I can admit to feeling it then.

But now they’ve gone behind my back. They could have taken me with them, could have at least texted me ahead of time to let me know their plans. We’re supposed to be pack, and pack doesn’t keep secrets or make life-changing plans without telling each other. It feels like a betrayal, even though they didn’t mean it that way.

Every step away from them feels like another shard in my heart, but I need the space. I need to clear my head, let out some of the anger where there’s no chance of catching them in the crossfire. I shake my head as I slide open the door to our garage, flicking on the light without looking and then striding past my workshop area to the punching bag in the corner.

I normally use this as a workout on my days off. I don’t get angry. Not usually, anyways. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve been truly mad, but this feels different. Hurt buried deep beneath the frustration. I pound one fist into the bag, then pause when the skin of my knuckles stings.

If there’s any chance of me joining them on that date…

I turn around and snag my gloves, slipping them on and then going back to the bag. I don’t want to show up with bloody knuckles. That’s not the kind of first impression you want to make on any omega, let alone one that’s probably a scent match and possibly your future mate.

The bag takes the brunt of my anger and hurt, faithfully swaying and grounding me, offering a safe way to let the emotion out. My thoughts fade with each punch, blissful oblivion slipping in as I sink into the zone.

Thud, thud, thud.

Thud, thud, thud.

I only stop when sweat drips from my forehead and my arms are shaking. I step back and rest my hands on my head, then walk a slow lap around the outside of the house. It’s not a big place, certainly not good enough for an omega, but we’d always planned to get something nicer. A house more suitable for a pack, if we ever found them.