Triskele (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 2)

by Serena Akeroyd

  “F-Fae?”

  That she stuttered spoke of her surprise. The woman who could fell a Beta, who fought for justice, who had been exiled among her own family… she did not stutter.

  A feeling fluttered in his chest. At first, it was small. Almost like a zygote of sensation that began to grow, expand, take over with each breath.

  As she looked at him, her eyes wide, wary and wild, Theo felt a part of himself open for her.

  He thought he’d known love. Had thought he’d understood it, and yet these stirrings were...

  He knew nothing else like it.

  They choked him. Suffocated him.

  And with those feelings, the sudden urge to reveal himself, all of himself, overcame him.

  Knowing that he could not possibly bewilder her any more than he already had, he revealed himself. The true Theodore. A Theodore that not even Brian had seen.

  And even as his heart panged for the man he’d loved for years, Theo knew he’d inadvertently accessed the next part of the journey that was life, and let his wings unfurl.

  As the muscles twitched, the feathers ruffling and stirring in agitation, he watched as Thalia’s eyes closed and, straight into her mate’s arms, she fell back and into a faint.

  10

  Mikkel

  “What the fuck?” The words spat staccato from his lips as Thalia collapsed against Rafe. But, they weren’t declared in response to her fainting. It was to the six-feet something male standing in the center of a dining room with wings that were, by Mikkel’s estimation, a good three feet bigger than him.

  Had he ever seen anything like it?

  Deep in the heart of battle, he’d seen a ton of crazy shit. But this level of crazy?

  Mikkel’s mouth worked as the wings expanded, spread wide, then were tucked back into the man’s back. And like that, with a wave of tension that rippled down the feathers, they winked out of existence.

  “How did he do that?” Mikkel demanded of Rafe. “Did he really have fucking wings or am I going crazy?”

  “You’re not insane, mortal mate of Thalia Lyndhoven,” the creature called Theodore murmured, his tone polite. “You’re very sane.”

  “But you had wings. Who the fuck has wings?”

  “The Fae, apparently,” Rafe said, his tone wryer than Mikkel expected.

  His head whipped to the side to stare at Thalia’s second mate, then he saw she was lax in his hold, and guilt filling him, he helped straighten her up but realized he was only making it worse—Rafe had a tight hold on her—she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “You can’t be okay with this?” he hissed under his breath.

  “What’s to be okay with?” came the rhetorical question. Rafe turned his focus from Mikkel and looked over at Theodore. “You are certain you are mated?”

  “Aye.” The male rubbed his chin. “I am surprised. I did not foresee that.” His hand came up to touch his chest, and so simply that Mikkel shuddered, he whispered, “I ache. Here.”

  Because he knew that feeling, had felt the emptiness spreading since he’d met Thalia, he closed his eyes in denial.

  “I do not ache,” the Fae male continued, still sounding bewildered. “I do not feel these things.”

  “Women,” Rafe retorted. “They’ll fuck with you. One way or another.”

  Theo rubbed his chest. “She does this? But how? She hasn’t touched me; how can she cause this pain?”

  Rafe seemed to chew on the inside of his mouth before he answered, “Do the Fae have mates?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, surely you know how it should feel?”

  “It is very rare to find one.” He blinked. “Very rare,” he mumbled, and for the first time, his arrogance waned.

  “How rare?” Mikkel demanded, curious because he sensed the angel-Fae-dude was at a total loss.

  “I’m twelve thousand years old, the child of a leader of my people, and know of maybe five who have heart bonded.”

  “Five?” Well, shit.

  Mikkel gawked at Theo, surprised at the way he kept rubbing his chest—like the ache was real, not imagined. He watched his fingers, an unease slithering through him as those supple digits worked and moved. They were almost hypnotic, and Mikkel felt a strange kind of heat rise in him.

  “Yes. Five. Maybe. They’re rare, and I did not come here with this intention in mind.”

  Rafe murmured, “Why did you come here? If not for her?”

  Mikkel pried his gaze off Theo’s hand and looked around the sunny breakfast room. Thalia’s family were still moving in a turbocharged—in reverse—slow motion. If he hadn’t seen it for himself, Mikkel would never have believed it. “Yes. Why?”

  “I came for her, this is true. But not in this way. The heart bond never occurred to me... There is a prophecy,” Theo whispered, his voice hoarse. Finally, he moved. His steps were hesitant as he strode on, toward the three of them hovering in the doorway. His long, piano-playing fingers came out to stroke Thalia’s slumped chin, and Mikkel had to fight with the need to grab the other man’s wrist.

  He couldn’t bitch about a third mate when he hadn’t allowed himself to claim her, to have her claim him as second mate.

  The spoiled brat in him whined, “You’ve known her less than a week.” But that didn’t matter when she’d already claimed one, and a fucking Fairy with angel wings was stroking his woman’s cheek.

  Because, yeah, Thalia was his woman.

  Shame he’d only just realized that.

  Well, not ‘only just.’ He’d known what she was to him. Just hadn’t known what she’d do to him, and for a man like Mikkel, that was the worst evil imaginable.

  “What kind of prophecy?” Mikkel choked out.

  The angel’s eyes clashed with his, and once more, a wave of heat flushed through him, making his cheeks pinken, searing them with a hot brand he didn’t know how to counteract.

  If a man could be beautiful, then this creature was exactly that.

  He was tall and strong, his muscles evident through the sleek, silky shirt he wore. But they held none of Mikkel’s own bulk. Theo’s strength was quite clear for all to see, but it was almost passive. It intended no threat, unlike Mikkel’s. Or maybe that was the threat in itself? Peril wrapped up in a pretty package... Could there be a better disguise?

  He was blond, his hair golden. The tips seemed to glow, and there were streaks of bronze and white amid the chaotic tumble. His eyes were a light mossy green that seemed to trap the sunlight. Hold it within the irises, so that they too seemed to glow.

  In fact, as Mikkel watched this third mate of Thalia’s, he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  “Why are you glowing?”

  “Because I’m Fae,” Theo replied easily, his focus back on Thalia, and hell, if she’d been awake, Mikkel had no doubt she’d be as confused and as horny and as flustered as he himself was feeling.

  And for a very straight man, one who’d never even contemplated fucking another dude until this week, that was seriously confusing.

  Feeling his chest tighten—impending heart attacks were par for the course today—he asked, “What does that have to do with it?”

  “My glamor makes me glow. It’s magic. Proof of my heritage. The brighter the glow, the more…” He winced. “It is complicated. I will explain when she is awake. And I will explain the prophecy then too. She needs to hear it first. It’s for her, after all, that we three are here.” His smile was small, but amused nonetheless. “Her acolytes.”

  Though Mikkel frowned at that, Rafe was the one who spoke, “Whatever you’ve done to the Lyndhovens, I think you should retract it. They’re turning blue.”

  Mikkel tutted under his breath—Rafe’s calm was starting to get fucking irritating.

  The dude more than rolled with the punches. He was like fucking Nero in the Matrix! Swerving this way and that before his opponent could do more than blink. If Mikkel didn’t genuinely like the guy, he’d want to smack him. As it was, the desire ran close to the
surface. They’d just seen a fucking angel and Rafe was reacting like nothing had happened.

  At the other man’s words, though, Theo blinked, spun on his heel, took in the room with a glance, then clapped his hands. As one, motion returned, and with it, all four of Thalia’s grandparents began coughing, spluttering, and generally gulped down air as they tried to reassert control over their body’s most basic of actions.

  “What did you do to us?” Louis choked out.

  “Nothing,” Theo murmured, his tone so bland Mikkel had to hide a laugh—he also made a mental note never to play poker with him. That was one hell of a bluff.

  Louis gritted his teeth but, seeming to find no sense in arguing, didn’t follow that particular line of argument. Instead, his gaze caught upon Thalia, still slumped over. “Is she okay?” he demanded, jumping to his feet even if that burst of activity did make him cough and retch as he did so.

  “She is fine.” Theo’s words were an order. “You will not worry. All will be well. I will guard her, and them, with my life. Of this you have my promise.”

  When Louis plunked back in his seat and nodded, Mikkel frowned at the man’s easy acceptance of that dictate. “What have you done to them?” he asked when the others carried on like nothing had happened.

  Nothing at all.

  They’d even stopped coughing and spluttering. And they were focused on the dishes before them like breakfast held all the answers.

  Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, but that important? Nope.

  “Just a little magic to soothe their concerns,” was the smooth retort. So fucking smooth Mikkel cringed. “Now, where are your quarters? Or a private sitting room? I need to speak with you all.”

  Mikkel didn’t appreciate the way this Theodore was taking over, but hell, if he really had seen twelve thousand years then… He sighed. He’d been trained to always respect his elders, and you didn’t get much fucking older than twelve millennia.

  Rafe, seeming to sense Mikkel’s capitulation, hefted Thalia around and hauled her into his arms. She moaned but settled against him, pressing her face into his throat.

  One thing Mikkel was used to when around the pack was how close they always were. They were separate entities physically, but emotionally, it was a whole other ball of wax. On any occasion where they could touch one another, they did.

  While it was kind of sweet how Louis and Thalia had apologized for his experience with one step in the pack and the other out of it, the truth was, the only thing that had truly hurt was this.

  The touch of the pack had always eluded him.

  Was that why Rafe could accept the craziest bullshit? Because he could hold onto Thalia and find a grasp on reality that would forever elude Mikkel?

  Horror flooded him at the thought.

  He’d watched his brothers and sisters clamber together like the pups they were, always touching even if they were baiting one another. A hand running through another’s hair, touching a shoulder, fingers linking as they slept, one foot connected with another’s leg. Always united, always together even if they were separate.

  The ache of that was something he’d struggled to put into words all his life. But now? Watching this? It was there. On the tip of his tongue.

  He wanted that. Needed it like he’d never needed anything in his many years. Although, with a guy like Theodore around, ‘many years’ was a relative concept.

  Rafe hefted Thalia around with no difficulty. Mikkel had to admit that knowing the man’s rank was fucking with his head a bit. Even on the outskirts of the pack as he’d been, Mikkel knew how poorly Gammas were thought of, and he hated that it had rubbed off on him.

  Rafe’s strength surprised him, so he could only imagine how difficult it was for Thalia’s grandparents to adjust.

  The chasm they’d all have to bridge made itself known to him then, and it was a chasm that was only going to widen if Thalia, as Alpha of the North American Pack, only had one Lyken male as her mate… a human and a Fae for the other two.

  Revealing that to the world was going to be a shit ton of fun.

  Not.

  His thoughts were everywhere and nowhere. Focusing was tough, mostly because, at his side, Theodore kept pace with him.

  “You can ask, you know?”

  Mikkel startled at the man’s deep baritone. “Ask what?” he retorted gruffly.

  “Whatever you want.”

  That had him frowning. “You had angel’s wings.” They’d been… He gulped. Huge. Like ten feet long, at least fifteen feet broad. Each inch covered in a strange kind of feather. It reminded him of an eagle’s feather he’d found once when they’d been camping out one year near Michigan, but there’d been a shimmer that was anything other than natural.

  “They’re just wings,” Theo murmured softly.

  “Just? In my world, wings belong on birds.”

  “Not a Catholic then?”

  Mikkel grumbled, “My great-grandmother was.”

  Theo snorted. “Knowing those ways will probably help when it comes time to teach you of my heritage.”

  “It will? How?”

  The man’s eyes glowed hotter, brighter when he caught Mikkel’s for a sliver of a second. “Because the angels of the Catholic faith? They’re Fae.”

  11

  Thalia

  Moaning, Thalia felt the headache that had appeared last night and disappeared by this morning, make itself known to her once more. That sudden shard of agony pierced her memory.

  That was why she’d passed out.

  Rubbing her temple, she jolted when another’s hands appeared, touching on the opposite side. Then, she sucked in a breath and scented Rafe. The minute his essence flooded her senses, she breathed a little easier.

  “Rafe,” she whispered.

  His lips brushed the crown of her head, and she realized his lap was her pillow. “It’s okay, love. You’re okay. Just overwhelmed.”

  She cringed at that. Days ago, she’d slaughtered a Beta. An abusive, cruel bastard who hadn’t deserved the title. Today? She’d fainted. Because a dude had…

  Well, he’d…

  Sprouted wings?

  Was that even the right terminology?

  Could a person sprout anything?

  But the wings had been a trigger of the worst pain Thalia had ever experienced in her life.

  Her head ached more than before, and she nuzzled her face into Rafe’s lap. Caelus, he scented like heaven. Like earth and fire blended together, merging into this strong mixture that was his alone. It nourished her and empowered her. Made her own senses tingle in response to the knowledge that this powerful male was hers.

  And she didn’t give a shit what anyone else said.

  He was powerful.

  Truly.

  His hand combed through the baby hair at her temple, and she sighed at the touch. Not wanting to open her eyes, she drew her legs up against her chest, curling deeper into him, and whispering, “Can we go back to bed?”

  Rafe snorted. “We can, sweetheart, but I’m sure you’d prefer to have this conversation first.”

  She popped an eye open and winced when she saw the other male, the third one, seated on the side of her mattress.

  Unlike Rafe and Mikkel, he wasn’t welcome there. She’d seen both of them and had felt like falling to her knees in wonder.

  Now?

  She didn’t feel wonder.

  In fact, she wasn’t sure what she felt.

  It was deep and it was scary. When her eyes caught his, it was like drowning. It was like everything that made her Thalia was flooded with this stranger’s essence, until she didn’t know where he started and she began.

  It was a different connection. Not better, not worse. Just different. And Thalia was so damn tired of different.

  Especially when this kind of different brought on a tidal wave of pain.

  But Thalia had never been a coward.

  She licked her lips, wincing a little at how dry they were. “Theodore,�
�� she rasped.

  “You can call me Theo,” he told her gently, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips. It had been there throughout their few conversations with one another. On anyone else, she’d think it mocking. But with him, it wasn’t.

  It was unnerving.

  It was all-seeing, just as his glance was.

  “Theo,” she amended. “You are my third mate, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. “This surprises me as much as it does you.”

  “That’s what I don’t get. You’re the one who came searching for her,” Mikkel pointed out, and his tone was brusque… her warrior was sulking.

  Pouting.

  She hid a smile at that even as she slipped her hand across the bed to touch the bottom of his back. Where Theo was at the foot of the mattress, Mikkel was nearer. Not as close as Rafe, but dithering in the middle. She guessed it was fitting considering his stance in regards to the mate bond.

  Unsure whether to leap forward or roll back.

  “I did. But I came for a different reason. I didn’t expect to be bound to her. Although, it does make sense considering the gravity of our task.”

  She frowned at that. “The gravity of what task?”

  “You are the child of a prophecy, Thalia,” Theo intoned, but she could sense he was trying to be gentle. His hand came out, the fingers long and slender. They hovered above her ankle, and she watched him fight himself. Watched as his fingers spread and flexed, uncertainty throbbing through him as he decided over whether he ought to make the connection or not.

  “What kind of prophecy?” she asked. Refusing to help him out, she watched his hand not him. Her gaze glued to the fragile strength of those fingers.

  “A prophecy that is older than civilization as you know it.”

  She swallowed. “And I’m at the center of it?”

  “Indeed.” He let out a hiss that had her jolting, and suddenly, his hand was on her ankle, and they were touching.

  The digits curled about the bony joint, and she moaned as a sudden searing heat roared through her from that one point of connection. She shivered, and her legs unfurled from the protective fetal position she’d fallen into. A part of her, like a magnet to iron, craved his touch. Was attracted to it.