— Elaeya —

I got up in the afternoon.

The sky was still grey, and it was hard to tell the time of the day.

There was tension in the air I could not originate. I knew I would not be able to sleep much longer, so I got up. I could hear a voice booming from below, muffled by various walls and doors. I left my room and went downstairs.

There was no movement in the house. Except for that voice, and typing on a keyboard.

I found the source of the typing in the dining room.

He was still wearing his suit.

“What is your name?” I asked him.

He jumped to his feet, nervous. “Brandon,” he told me.

“I’m Elaeya.”

He inclined his head nervously. “Is there anything I can do for you Mam?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “Sorry for my intrusion. I will let you work.”

He nodded again and sat back at the table, to focus on his laptop and papers.

Kaden was outside. The rain had stopped and left a sheet of water drops on the ground around him. He was pacing with his cellphone to his hear.

“No. We’re not sending them anything. We will track the former owners, and they can help us with that, and we will return everything to the rightful owners. Anything else, we keep until we decide what to do with those,” he said into the receiver.

I took a look in the kitchen and found a few pomegranates on the counter. I took one that I opened up to eat.

“How many times had there been leaks? I don’t trust them any farther than I can kick them,” said Kaden. “We got information about Greysky and Akayume. Dig into that and they should too. If they moved into trafficking or any of that bullshit, they might become a problem soon enough.” He was a little too far for me to hear what the other person was saying on the phone. “I never kissed their asses, I’m not gonna start now. They do their job, and I’m gonna stay out of this. I have no intention of borrowing any more trouble.” He laughed, it was bitter and humourless. “Can’t change that, I guess.” He looked into the house and saw me. “Look, I gotta go, just pass the messages along, I’ll deal with the rest when I return,” he said. “No, well, okay, fine. Go to Nubinero and sort things out, then… I can’t, I’m busy… No, my health is fine… I’ll explain later.” He put the phone back in his pocket and got back in.

I kept eating the pomegranate.

He entered the kitchen and went straight for the fridge where he dug out a beer.

He took a long pull, then rubbed at the back of his head.

“Is there something wrong with your health?” I’m not sure what led to that train of thought, but I believed I had to ask.

Kaden looked at me and there was something in his face that was strange. Was it suspicion?

“Brandon,” he said loudly.

“Yes Alpha,” answered Brandon from the dining room.

“Find yourself something to do elsewhere,” said Kaden.

Brandon did look a little strangely at us but he scrambled to get his things and left in a hurry.

I looked back at Kaden. It was hard for me to look him in the eyes as there was such a sharp discrepancy in our heights.

He went to the small living room, and sat down. He gestured at me to do the same and so I did.

He was sitting in a big winged chair, and I on the love seat, my pomegranate still in my hands.

He put his beer on the coffee table and ran his fingers through his hair, his elbows on his knees. I waited and ate a few more seeds.

He looked back up at me.

“Have you hurt me?” he asked me.

I froze with bits of fruits in my hand, halfway to my mouth. “Why would I do that?”

He shrugged.

I concentrated on him. Why would he ask me that? Unless someone hurt him. I looked a little deeper and put the fruit on the coffee table. I opened my senses.

At first, I got hit by two things. His significant aura, and the pull of our bond. I tried to shove both of these things in the back of my mind and focused a little deeper.

His posture had changed, he was looking strangely at me. I got closer and extended instinctively my left hand over his aura. I moved it in slow circles and rested a few inches away and right above his heart. There was something there. Something abnormal. Something deep. I closed my eyes and tilted my head softly. Listening to a melody beyond sound. It was soft and beautiful, and damaged.

I looked at him again.

He was guarded, he didn’t stop me, but he was unsure, uncomfortable maybe even.

I dropped my hand back to my lap.

“You’re hurt,” I said.

“Possibly,” he answered.

I shook my head. “Very,” I looked into his eyes. “Deeply.”

He said nothing.

“It goes all the way to your soul,” I said.

That got a reaction out of him. His eyebrows raised high. “How do you know?”

“I…” I began, but I hesitated, and bit my lip. I crunched my brows. “Why do you…? You’re looking for the person who did this? Where you attacked?” I asked.

He lay back in his chair, put his hands on the armrest, and just looked at me.

I believe it was to me to answer this, and so did he.

I closed my eyes again and tilted my head in no specific direction.

I took a deep breath.

I let my instincts take over.

“The wounds are deep. They need time to heal,” I said, my voice a little deeper. “It will take time, if you don’t give it, they may devour you.”

“What would devour me?” he interrupted me. His voice was very even, artificially controlled.

I looked back at him. “The wounds.”

“And how would that happen?” he asked in the same monotone.

I let my eyes go out of focus. “Your life will fall apart. Your soul is too brittle.”

It was some of the most horrifying wounds I’ve ever seen. I had to shut down my sense or the pain threatened to shatter my resolve to do so and I could barely hold back tears.

“Who did this to you?” I asked in a whisper.

“I thought maybe you did.”

I looked up sharply. “How?” I asked confused. “How can something like this be done? Why would I do…” I choked on the words ‘that to you’.

I didn’t know this man, but I knew it would be one of the most difficult things in the world to simply wish him harm.

He tilted his head at me. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“How is your health?” he asked me.

“My health is fine,” I said. “Why? Shouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” he said in an exhale. “I began feeling your presence as a teen. But I could never find you. It grew more intense with years. It became painful. With the years, my health started to go down.”

I just stood there in utter shock.

“My healing abilities compensated for some of this, but I was not getting better, not by a long shot.”

“How?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “I considered that you had died and was haunting me, or you had cursed me, or a bunch of even more far-fetched ideas.”

“It comes from me?” I can’t have done something this horrifying to someone.

“I think so,” he said.

I couldn’t stop my tears this time. The echoes of what I’d perceived just assailed my mind repeatedly and the only thing I manage to do was to put my hand on my mouth and mumble, “I’m sorry,” in between tears.

My vision became blurry. “I never… I’m sorry,” I repeated.

I felt the sofa dip as he sat beside me and took me in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to make you cry. I just needed to know if you did this.”

I put my left hand pressed against his chest, knowing exactly what to look for this time.

And I could feel it, I could feel the contact between us affect the wounds, softening the edges. I could affect it, which meant I really did this.

I wiped at my tears. I don’t remember falling apart like this since I’ve been a child. I’ve opened up too much. I’ve dug too deep, and it was hurting me back. I was letting his wounds, wound me and I had to build up my defenses to protect myself. It took me maybe a minute or two. I was breathing deeply, he was saying nothing, and was waiting patiently for me to return inside my own mind.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice more solid this time. “I went too deep. I can control myself.”

“How?” he asked.

I bit my bottom lip, my eyes still closed.

“Trust goes both ways,” he said.

He was right, but the price of trust is not the same for either of us.

“Insight,” I conceded.