Free Web NovelChapter 94: Chapter 94
Dron felt a little better knowing that he had some backup. Gerax might not be much on the battlefield, but Dron wasn’t dumb enough to think that he’d be able to get to the bottom of this whole political debacle without some serious brainpower. As one of the lead scientists in the land, Gerax was a great addition to their team.
"Where do you think they are keeping the humans in the Forbidden Lands?" Gerax asked, but once again Dron wasn’t paying very close attention. He was still too busy trying to listen out for Tempest, making sure she was alright. He was so attached to her when it was obvious that she wasn’t as concerned with him.
"Still got a lot on your mind, I see." Gerax huffed.
"I’m sorry." Dron apologized again.
Gerax tilted his head as he looked at Dron.
"Something about you has changed." Gerax muttered.
Dron took a step back simply because of how intensely Gerax was looking at him.
"What are you talking about? Nothing has changed." Dron shrugged and took another step back as Gerax continued to step more and more in his direction.
"No, there is definetely something off with you. Physically." Gerax tilted his head to the other side and his eyes scanned over Dron’s body.
Dron looked down at himself. He couldn’t see anything of what Gerax was talking about. He thought for a second that maybe there were some scars or something but the life nectar had done its job in healing his body.
"Gerax, you’ve had your head in the books too long. I think your vision is going." Dron made an uncomfortable joke.
"No, this right here." Gerax lifted his hand but still didn’t put a hand on Dron. Instead he waved his hand around Dron’s bicep. "You’ve grown."
Grown. That’s ridiculous. Dron hadn’t grown at all not in weight or in height in many moon cycles.
"That’s not accurate." Dron shook his head.
"Yes it is. Your muscles have gotten bigger. Hold on..." Gerax reached in his side pocket and lifted up a small flashlight. "Look straight ahead."
"What are you doing?" Dron did as he asked even though he was becoming more and more confused.
"Godess be, your reflexes have become better as well." Gerax backed away.
"Gerax., what are you going on about."
Gerax stared at Dron for a moment more before his eyes flickered to where Tempest had ran off to.
"Do you always know where Tempest is?" Gerax asked, his voice harder than it was a few seconds ago.
Dron opened his mouth to immediately deny it, but the words stalled in his throat. He did know where she was. Not in the way that he knew where Gerax was standing in front of him or how he knew where the furniture sat in the room. It was something deeper than that. Something that seemed to live in the back of his mind now. Tempest had walked away minutes ago and even though she was several rooms away, Dron could feel the direction of her. He could feel that she hadn’t gone outside. Could feel that she was somewhere near the sleeping quarters. It wasn’t a sound exactly. It wasn’t a scent either, not completely. It was just knowing.
"I know where everyone is inside my own home." Dron answered, hoping that would be enough to end the strange line of questioning.
Gerax didn’t look convinced.
"That’s not what I asked."
Dron clenched his jaw. "I’m aware."
"Do you always know where Tempest is?" Gerax repeated.
Dron looked toward the hallway again before he could stop himself.
Gerax noticed.
Of course he noticed.
The man noticed everything.
"I can tell when she’s close." Dron finally admitted.
Gerax’s eyes widened just slightly. "How close?"
"I don’t know." Dron shrugged. "Close enough."
"That isn’t a scientific measurement."
"I’m not a scientist."
"No, but you are the subject being observed, so try harder." Gerax moved around him slowly as if Dron had become one of the strange samples inside his lab. "Can you tell where she is right now?"
Dron sighed hard.
This was ridiculous.
He didn’t have time for this.
There were humans possibly trapped in the Forbidden Lands. There were factions moving in the shadows. There was poison that should not exist. There was Tempest pulling away from him for reasons he still didn’t understand. The last thing he needed was Gerax staring at him as if he had turned into some fascinating new creature.
"Yes." Dron finally said.
Gerax stopped walking.
"Where?"
"In the direction of the sleeping quarters." Dron pointed without thinking.
Gerax’s face changed.
Not drastically.
But enough.
"Interesting."
"No, not interesting." Dron crossed his arms over his chest. "Concerning. Everything about this entire situation is concerning and you focusing on whether or not I can sense where my wife is does nothing to help with any of it."
"Your wife?" Gerax questioned.
Dron frowned. "That’s what she is."
"Yes, technically."
"There is nothing technical about it."
Gerax lifted a brow.
Dron didn’t like the way he was looking at him. It made him feel like he’d accidentally revealed something that he hadn’t meant to reveal. Dron had called Tempest his wife before. That wasn’t new. That wasn’t strange. Their arrangement was complicated but the bonding ceremony had been completed. She was his wife in the eyes of the law and whatever fractured parts of society still cared about rules. Yet, saying it now felt different. It felt like something had tightened in his chest when Gerax questioned it. As if his body didn’t like even the slightest implication that Tempest might not belong to him.
Gerax slowly nodded. "Do you feel that?"
"Feel what?"
"That reaction." Gerax pointed at Dron’s chest. "Whatever just happened inside you when I questioned her place with you."
Dron glared at him. "You’re beginning to annoy me."
"That usually means I’m onto something."
"You’re onto nothing."
Gerax hummed as if he didn’t believe that for a second. "Has your appetite changed?"
Dron blinked. "What?"
"Your appetite. Has it changed since Tempest came here?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Answer the question."
Dron wanted to refuse just to make a point, but Gerax already looked too interested. If he didn’t answer, the man would likely follow him around with medical tools until he got whatever information he wanted.
"I eat less when she is upset." Dron muttered.
Gerax’s expression sharpened. "And when she’s calm?"
"I don’t know. Food tastes better."
"Sleep?"
"What about it?"
"Are you sleeping?"
Dron hesitated.
That answer was another one he didn’t want to give.
"Not much."
"Because of the danger?"
"Yes."
Gerax stared.
Dron looked away.
"And because I keep listening for her." Dron gritted out. "Are you satisfied now?"
Gerax didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flat device. His fingers moved quickly across the surface.
"What are you doing?" Dron asked.
"Taking notes."
"Stop taking notes."
"No."
"Gerax."
"No." Gerax didn’t even bother looking up. "You are standing in front of me describing symptoms that haven’t been accurately recorded in generations. I am not going to simply rely on memory."
Dron’s annoyance shifted into confusion.
"Symptoms?"
Gerax finally lifted his head.
"Yes."
"What symptoms?"
Gerax tucked the device back into his pocket and studied him again. "Enhanced muscle density. Faster reflexes. Heightened awareness of a specific omega. Appetite changes in direct relation to her emotional state. Sleep disruption when separated from her. Protective aggression. Emotional instability when her claim to you is questioned."
Dron’s entire body stiffened.
"I am not emotionally unstable."
Gerax gave him a flat look.
Dron had the sudden urge to pick the man up and toss him out the nearest window.
Which probably did not help his argument.
Gerax sighed. "Dron, I need you to listen to me carefully and not immediately threaten me." freewebnσvel.cѳm
"I haven’t threatened you."
"Your face has."
Dron grunted.
Gerax stepped closer, though he was wise enough to remain just outside of grabbing distance. "There are old records. Very old records. Most of them are treated as mythology now. Some are in religious texts. Some are in medical archives that nobody studies anymore because there hasn’t been a confirmed case in so long."
Dron didn’t like where this was going.
Gerax continued anyway.
"They describe bonds forming between two people who are biologically, emotionally, and instinctively matched. Not arranged. Not politically compatible. Not chosen because their families wanted power. Truly matched."
"No." Dron shook his head immediately.
Gerax smiled, but there was nothing mocking in it. If anything, he looked more fascinated than amused.
"I haven’t even said it yet."
"You don’t have to."
"Then you know what I’m talking about."
Dron stepped away from him and looked toward the hallway again.
He didn’t want to hear it.
He already had enough weighing on him.
The last thing he needed was Gerax putting a name to whatever was happening inside him.
"A fated mate bond." Gerax said anyway.
Dron closed his eyes.
The words settled over the room heavier than they should have.
"No."
"Dron—"
"No." Dron turned back toward him. "That isn’t possible."
"Why?"
"Because she’s human."
Gerax lifted a shoulder. "Clearly that matters less than we thought."
"Because she wants to go back to Earth."
"That doesn’t mean there isn’t a bond."
"Because she’s pulling away from me." Dron’s voice came out harsher than he intended. "Because she looks at me as if she wants to run and she’s trying to decide how far she can get before I notice. Because every time I get close to her now, she disappears behind some wall that I don’t know how to break through."
Gerax’s expression softened.
Dron hated that too.
He didn’t want pity.
He wanted answers.
He wanted Tempest to look at him the way she had before. He wanted to understand what he had done wrong. He wanted to stop feeling as if someone had carved out his insides and left him walking around pretending that he was still whole.
"That doesn’t disprove the bond." Gerax said carefully.
"It should."
"No. Actually, it may prove it more."
Dron stared at him.
Gerax gestured for Dron to sit, but Dron remained standing. There was too much energy moving beneath his skin. Too much agitation. Sitting felt impossible.
"If Tempest is your fated mate and she’s trying to deny the connection, it would explain the physical ache you described earlier. It would explain why you’re unsettled. It would explain why she is pulling away while still watching you as if leaving hurts her."
Dron’s chest tightened again.
"She doesn’t watch me like that."
Gerax gave him another look.
Dron looked away.
She did.
Sometimes.
"What happens if she rejects it?" Dron asked before he could stop himself.
Gerax went quiet.
That silence was the worst answer he could have given.
"What happens?" Dron demanded.
"I don’t know."
"You just said there are records."
"There are." Gerax nodded. "But they are old. Incomplete. Some are exaggerated. Some contradict each other. Some say rejection leads to a temporary sickness. Others say the bond fades if both parties want it gone. A few suggest that if one mate accepts the bond while the other rejects it, the pain can become... severe."
Dron felt the blood drain from his face.
"Severe how?"
"Emotional distress. Physical aching. Weakness. Irritability. Difficulty sleeping. Sometimes fever. Sometimes a decline in the bonded alpha’s control. Mental decline. Death."
Dron laughed bitterly.
"Wonderful."
Gerax didn’t smile.
"For what it’s worth, I don’t think she hates you."
"I didn’t say she hated me."
"No, but you are acting as if that is what you believe."
Dron’s jaw tightened.
Gerax was too observant for his own good.
"She wants to leave." Dron said.
"She may."
"There is no may about it."
"Wanting to leave Ustea and wanting to leave you may not be the same thing."
That made Dron pause.
Gerax stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Have you considered that she might be trying to protect you?"
Dron frowned. "From what?"
"Everything." Gerax spread his hands. "The Council. The resistance. The factions in the Forbidden Lands. The people who attacked you. The poison. From the moment she arrived, your life has become more dangerous."
Dron didn’t like hearing it, but there was no denying it.
"She would blame herself for that." Gerax continued.
"She shouldn’t."
"I didn’t say she should. I said she would."
Dron looked toward the hallway again.
His chest ached.
Not physically.
Not exactly.
It was deeper than that.
Tempest was close enough that he could still feel her presence, but there was a distance between them that had nothing to do with walls. He hated it. Hated that she could be under the same roof and still feel out of reach.
Gerax watched him carefully.
"You feel her right now, don’t you?"
Dron didn’t answer.
Gerax exhaled in quiet amazement. "Goddess be."
"Don’t make this into one of your experiments."
"It already is one."
Dron growled.
Gerax lifted both hands. "Fine. Poor wording. I’m not going to treat either of you like specimens. But Dron, you need to understand what this means. If this is real, if the bond has truly chosen the two of you, then it’s not just rare. It’s nearly impossible by modern standards."
Gerax looked almost sad now.
"I used to think fated mates were mythology. Beautiful mythology, but mythology all the same. Then you walk into my life with a human omega from a dead world and start describing every marker from ancient records as if it is nothing more than a frustrating inconvenience."
"It is frustrating."
Gerax huffed a laugh.
"Yes, I’m sure destiny often is."
Dron dragged a hand over his face. "Do not call it destiny."
"What would you prefer I call it?"
"A problem."
Gerax’s amusement faded.
"It may feel like one right now, but it isn’t. Not if she feels it too."
"She doesn’t."
"You don’t know that."
"She hasn’t said it."
"Have you?"
Dron opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Gerax’s brow rose.
"That’s what I thought."
Dron looked away, irritated that the scientist had cornered him so easily.
"I’ve shown her."
"That’s not the same."
"It should be."
"It isn’t."
Dron turned back to him. "And what would you have me do? Walk into that room and tell her that you believe our bodies have decided we belong to each other based on ancient records no one trusts anymore?"
Gerax seemed to consider that.
"No. Probably don’t lead with that."
Dron glared.
"But I do think you should talk to her." Gerax softened his voice. "Not about the science. Not at first. Talk to her about what she’s feeling. Ask her why she’s pulling away. Don’t assume it’s because she doesn’t care."
Dron swallowed.
That was the problem.
He could face armies. He could fight alphas. He could stand in front of the High Council and feel less fear than he felt at the idea of asking Tempest why she didn’t seem to want him anymore.
"I don’t want to make this harder for her." Dron admitted.
Gerax nodded. "Then don’t. But don’t let her carry it alone either."
Dron looked back toward the hallway.
Tempest was still there.
Still close.
Still his.
Even if she didn’t want to be.
The thought made something inside him twist painfully.
Gerax picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I’m going to look into the poison and the old mate bond records. I’ll see if there’s anything useful. Something more than legends."
Dron nodded.
"And Dron?"
"What?"
Gerax paused near the door. "If she starts hurting physically, if she becomes weak or feverish, call me immediately."
Dron’s stomach dropped.
"You think that will happen?"
"I think she’s denying something powerful." Gerax glanced toward the hallway. "And if I’m right, her body may not appreciate being ignored."
Dron said nothing.
He remained standing in the middle of the room long after the door closed behind him.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
He could still feel Tempest somewhere down the hall, and for the first time he didn’t try to convince himself that it was normal.
Maybe nothing about this was normal.
Maybe Gerax was wrong.
Maybe the old stories were just stories.
But as Dron stood there feeling the invisible pull toward the woman trying so desperately to pull away from him, he knew one thing for certain.
Whatever existed between them was not simple.
And it was not going away.
