sanctuary safe.
Haru sighed deeply, lifting the cup of green tea to his lips. He’d hoped the drink would settle his mind, but nothing was helping. He’d tried reading. He’d considered flying, but he knew precisely where his goblin would head the moment he set him free. No, he would sit in his library, read the book in hands, which he’d not turned one page of in what felt like hours, and not think one thought about Kindling.
Except he was telling himself a lie.
All he could think of was the young wolf and the way he’d touched him. How Kindling had slid his tender frame against him. He saw the fire in Kindling’s eyes when the man had looked up at him, the mirror of his own need reflected his gaze.
He felt the cup in his hand shatter and rose to put the pieces in the receptacle, along with its broken twin. He was losing control, something he’d never done, not since a childhood he could barely remember. All because of Kindling.
Warugaki!
Haru sighed, but then it was that brattiness, that bold spirit Kindling possessed that attracted him. Haru was never challenged. His word was without question. Then this little wolf arrived, swinging hips Haru wanted to palm, and looking at him with eyes that begged him to claim what was freely offered. And Haru wanted to do exactly that.
Haru turned when he heard a noise on his balcony. Breathing in and recognizing the scent, he called, “You may enter, Dimitri.”
Dimitri entered the room, his eyes on Haru. He was worried, it would seem, but when was he not? When Dimitri had his mate by his side was the only time his son’s mind would settle, but Eric was busy elsewhere, training the humans.
“Father,” Dimitri began. There was a trace of awkwardness Haru wondered about, but he waited. Dimitri was dressed in white, the battle gear of his people. Why hide from the enemy? Let them see them coming and be afraid. The material caught the light in the room, his son’s wings flexing in a sign of discomfort.
“Yes, Dimitri. Speak, son. Keeping your opinion to yourself isn’t like you.”
Dimitri cleared his throat, apparently uncomfortable with whatever was on his mind. “Trey’s cousin has arrived, and he smells of you. He wears your scent.”
Haru felt his skin grow warm. “My scent?”
“Yes, as Trey bears Calyx’s, and Eric, mine. Kindling Bowden smells of you.” Dimitri obviously didn’t want to share this, his gaze everywhere but on Haru.
“But it isn’t possible,” Haru argued. If the wolf carried his scent, then he was Haru’s mate. He didn’t have a mate. He could only ever be the High Lord. What Dimitri was saying wasn’t possible. But then the rightness of it? The joy that couldn’t be ignored? Was it truly possible he would no longer live alone in this world? He could love and be loved? But why now? Why so many years later? Could his sons acquiring mates of their own have opened the way for him?
“Yes, father, it would appear it is. I don’t wish to be here. I’d rather kill something than have this conversation with you. This is not my area of expertise.” Dimitri sighed. “It is not good timing.”
Haru growled, surprising himself, and by the widening of Dimitri’s eyes, his son as well.
“Not good timing for us, with the veil in danger. But for you, Father, and for your mate, the timing doesn’t matter. I only came to impart the same wisdom a goblin I respect once gave to me. Allow yourself to be happy.”
Dimitri, his son, the warrior that once had a heart of stone, was giving him advice on love. Giving him the same words he’d shared with Dimitri when his son questioned his bond with Eric. The world was spinning on its axis, or it should have been.
“When I said that—”
“You were talking about me, I know. But, Father, whatever has you believing you are not able to have a love of your own is a lie. Calyx and I are only able to give ourselves to our mates because of the love you gave to us.” There was so much heartfelt sincerity in those words.
Haru had chosen to nurture his sons differently. There were no happy memories of his own childhood from long ago. He’d had only duty. He had vowed not to repeat his progenitor’s nurturing. Instead, he had given his sons experiences. He’d played with them, flown with them, and taught them about the joys