Anchor of Secrets by Tessa Hale

38

Dash’s wordsshot through me, leaving a burning pain in their wake. But that agony propelled me forward, into the lounge. “He’ll die?” I croaked.

Five sets of eyes snapped to me, and Trace cursed.

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled.

I shoved the plate and glass at Declan. “That’s not what Dash just said.”

My heart thudded viciously against my ribs.

Colt sent Dash a scathing look. “You need to watch how you say things.”

“No,” I snapped. “This isn’t something where you try to protect me. I need to know the truth.”

“Don’t,” Trace warned.

I glared at him. “Are you my mate or not?”

A muscle in his cheek ticked.

“Don’t be a coward,” I pushed. “Answer me.”

“I’m your mate,” he growled.

“Then tell me the truth.”

Trace jerked his head at Dash, who shifted uncomfortably.

He turned to face me. “You know that incubi need sexual contact to survive.”

I nodded.

“Well, Trace hasn’t exactly been getting that lately,” Dash explained.

That thudding in my chest grew fiercer. It was a war of hope and fear. Had he not been with another girl because of his feelings for me? Or was there some other reason?

“Don’t mince words,” Ronan said in a low voice. “He’s starving himself to death.”

My eyes flared. “Trace…”

“I’m fine,” he gritted out.

But that obviously wasn’t true. His color was all wrong. He was too pale, almost gray. Dark circles under his eyes told me he wasn’t sleeping. And he’d almost just passed out.

Yet even with how miserable Trace felt, he hadn’t come to me. He hadn’t made a single move to take us from a tenuous friendship to more. Not even a kiss.

Hurt flared to life somewhere deep, but I shoved it down. Right now, my pain didn’t matter. Not when Trace was hurting himself this way.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I said softly. My next words killed something inside me, but I said them anyway. “If you need it, you should find a willing partner. I won’t be mad. I know you don’t want me that way—”

Trace shoved to his feet. “You don’t know a damn thing.”

He stormed out of the lounge, leaving me gaping in his wake.

I blinked after him.

“It’s not you,” Dash assured me quietly.

“It is,” I whispered. “I make him miserable.”

“No,” Colt argued. “He’s dealing with a lot of baggage, a lot of hurt. It’s tied to relationships for him.”

My eyebrows pinched as I studied Colt. They all talked around the demons Trace was wrestling with, but no one would tell me the damned truth.

If they wouldn’t tell me, then I’d have to find it for myself. I straightened my shoulders and turned to leave.

“Leighton,” Dash called. “Don’t.”

I shook my head. “I’m not tap dancing around this anymore. Trace and I need to come to an understanding. I’m not going to be his undoing if there’s something I can do to help.”

Colt opened his mouth to argue, but Ronan held up a hand to stop him. “Let her go.”

The guys were quiet for a moment.

Ronan’s gaze went soft on me. “She reached me when I didn’t think anyone could. It’s the mate bond. She’s the one that can heal when we think we’re too broken.”

Warmth spread through me, a balm to those places that were aching so deeply. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Ronan crossed the space, leaning down so that his forehead pressed against mine. “You’ve got this.”

I squeezed his hand and pulled away. Taking a deep breath, I headed for the door.

I wandered through the lower level of the house. I hadn’t heard Trace on the stairs, so I didn’t think he’d gone to his room. But The Nest was massive. It could take me all day to search even just the downstairs.

A tugging sensation in my chest had me turning to the back windows.

I sucked in a breath. There he was, sitting on the rocks overlooking the ocean. He looked so small, almost like a little boy, so lost and alone. My heart cracked.

I forced my feet to move. Heading outside, the wind picked up, swirling my hair around my face. It didn’t take me long to cross the yard.

Trace seemed to sense my presence before I said a word. His muscles tensed, and his jaw went hard. “Go away, Little Bird.”

“No,” I said, sitting down next to him on the rock.

Trace sighed as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. And maybe it was.

“Talk to me,” I pleaded.

“There’s nothing to say.”

But he was wrong. There was everything to say.

“Why are you hurting yourself?” I asked. It was the simplest place to start.

Trace’s jaw clenched as he stared out at the ocean. “Not going to betray you.”

My chest seized.

“It was one thing when I didn’t know you, not really. You were just this idea in my head. But then you were here. Real and breathing. You were in my space, and you burned so damn bright I couldn’t look away.”

My lungs burned, begging for breath, but I couldn’t move. “Trace…”

“You’re so kind. So quietly strong. Never letting anyone steamroll you, even if they’re ten times your size. Never admired someone more.”

That burn shifted up my throat to my eyes. “Then why won’t you give me a chance? A real one?”

I asked the question I’d been terrified to voice for weeks.

Trace turned to look at me, those violet eyes swirling. “I’ll ruin you.”

I shook my head. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” he gritted out.

“You have to explain why. Tell me,” I begged.

Trace’s eyes went dead. “Because my love killed someone before.”