In Flames - Elise Faber Page 0,15

and when it reached their heart, they were forever lost to humanity.

The only kind thing to do was . . . euthanasia.

A knife or bullet to the brain or heart and they were reduced to ash, to the elements the Rengallan magic was built on.

Maybe it sounded cruel, but there was no way out of the darkness, and many of their people had been slaughtered trying to convince themselves that some part of their loved one still existed in those monsters.

“You gonna say something?” Mason prompted, and Graham realized that he’d been standing there, lost in thought, for too fucking long. Mason’s brows drew together, suspicion darkening his face. “Why do you look like that?”

Graham stiffened. “Like what?”

Hazel eyes narrowed. “Like . . .” And that was when Graham remembered that the bond wasn’t just mental, but it was physical as well. If someone looked close enough, they’d see the magic coating his skin like a thin set of armor.

Only it wasn’t just his magic—the color that matched his eyes exactly—it would also include strands of Suz’s chocolate brown.

Like a blaring billboard indicating that he’d bonded.

“Gabby,” he blurted before he could blurt something else.

Before he could blurt out the truth about the bonding.

Because he needed to talk to Suz first, needed to make sure she was . . . what? Okay with it? It wasn’t like they had a choice. The magic had chosen and while they could rebuke the connection, he didn’t think either of them wanted to live as a human. They both loved their people—

“Graham.”

He blinked. “What?”

Mason sighed. “Why are you at my door at three in the morning asking for my mate?”

“Suz needs Gabby,” he managed.

“Why?”

Graham glanced down, realized that Gabby had appeared at Mason’s side, a robe tied around her middle, hair askew, and eyes tired.

“What is it?” she asked.

Now was the time to get his shit together.

And remarkably, he was finally able to clear his mind enough to meet Gabby’s eyes and say, “Felicia had her baby.”

The tiredness disappeared from her face, and she gaped. “What?” she asked, turning away and going to the armoire on the far side of the room. She yanked out some clothes then crossed back to him. “Why did no one come and get me?”

“There wasn’t time,” he said, averting his eyes when she reached for the tie of her robe.

“What?” she said on another gape. “What do you mean there wasn’t time?”

“Wait,” Mason muttered to him, shutting the door in his face, and rightfully so. Graham didn’t want to see her change.

Not because Gabby wasn’t pretty.

She was.

But she was Mason’s, and . . . she wasn’t Suz.

He listened to the mumble of their voices and in a remarkably short time, Gabby had emerged into the hall, jeans and a sweatshirt having replaced the robe, and sneakers on her feet.

“There wasn’t time?” Gabby asked again.

“The baby was born not long after Felicia and Hank knocked on the infirmary door.”

“Whoa. How far apart were the contractions when she showed up?”

He shrugged.

“Right,” she said. “Why would you know?”

Another shrug.

Shaking her head, she kissed Mason on the cheek and turned away from them, hurrying down the hall.

“You played catcher?”

Mason’s question took him by surprise. “What?”

“You catch that baby?” A smack on his arm. “Heaven help you if you dropped it.”

“Hilarious,” he muttered. “First, it’s a boy, not an it, and second, it’s not like either of us hasn’t seen more than a few babies born in our time.”

Mason shuddered. “And it’s not something I want to repeat.”

It wasn’t exactly on Graham’s list of favorite things to do, either, but there was something magical—no pun intended—about seeing new life come into the world. “I didn’t think you were such a wilting flower.”

“Wilting flower?” Mason snorted.

“Yup.”

“How old are you?” Mason asked.

“Old enough,” he muttered, “as you well know.”

“Mmm,” Mason said. “Something else I know is that pattern of magic I can see on your skin. Something to share?”

Fuck no.

Especially when the woman he’d inexplicably bonded with was panicking anytime she remembered they’d forged the connection. He needed time to process—or rather, he needed time for Suz to process because he’d decided that she was his. His magic had taken matters into its own hands—or maybe his subconscious. Regardless, he’d also decided that she needed someone to look out for her, and the someone to do that was going to be him.

He would make sure she didn’t work too hard, didn’t take pain from her patients (and if she did, he’d take it from her,