The Unforgotten Flame by Rebekah Sinclair

Author:Rebekah Sinclair [Sinclair, Rebekah & Sinclair, Rebekah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Another year later

We’ve fallen into an odd sort of arrangement that seems to work well. The night Patroclus and I bonded; Achilles knew. The following morning, I realized I could sense Achilles in some small corner of my subconscious. Like the faint residue of smoke on the wind, I could detect the faint presence of Achilles within my Immortal awareness.

I was a very needy mate during the first several weeks of my newly formed connection with Patroclus, but he needed me too.

At first, he spent most of the nights with me, chasing away my nightmares when he slept at my villa. But the nights he stays with Achilles are torturous for me.

The ease of their shared passion and love for each other seethes within me. I resent myself for still seeing Paris when I look at Achilles and wish I could just turn off this part of my brain. Inadequacy clutches me with the prospect of two mates, knowing I won’t be enough for them, and among it all, the unbonded part of me struggles.

It takes all my effort to block Patroclus out on the nights he is with Achilles. I don’t want him to feel how upset it makes me or have him sense my nightmares when I sleep alone.

I talked to Atlas about a bond rejection, but he would hear nothing of it. He said it's catastrophic when mates reject each other. Given Aphrodite and Triton's explosive bond rejection, I can understand that. They won’t stop until one of them kills the other.

My entire world feels tilted on an axis, and I know it’s beginning to strain Patroclus. He’s promised our mated connection will move at my pace, but what if I’m fine staying just where I am? I don't think Pat will agree to live like this forever.

Do I have to resolve this other mating bond with Achilles?

I’ve begun joining the missions with Hermes, searching for his mystery woman. She is just as elusive as my ability to forget about the pain of Paris, or the scars left on my soul by his knives.

After another strategy meeting ends with Achilles and me in a screaming match, I storm out of the security room and stomp down the gravel path to the beach.

Hermes jogs after me, shouting my name, but I ignore him and let my anger carry me to the shore. Walking down the rocky slope, we reach the seaside, and I sit on the white sand with a huff.

My brother joins me and picks at a piece of driftwood, breaking it into small pieces and throwing the splinters at the Mediterranean.

My anger is pulling the Winds to me, stirring up the ocean. The choppy waves crash against each other, and my airstream weaves within them.

“You’re Wind is messing up my hair.” Hermes teases me, and I slam my current into his side, jostling him and making him laugh.

I roll my eyes and hold back my grin.

He always tries to make me laugh when I’m angry. He knows it’s the quickest way to calm me down.

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