Chapter 122

Theodore’s POV

I didn’t understand why the Moonstone glowed.

Yes, I felt some sort of pull toward Eva, but everything about her felt off. And I still also felt a pull toward Violet, even if it did feel battered and beaten. Then I turned in horror to Violet out of habit, turned to my mate who I had promised to face the rest of my days with.

I thought I had been in pain at the temple and at the hospital, but that pain felt tolerable compared to this.

To watching my mate’s devastation in response to the unfathomable, inexplicable glow of the Moonstone that confirmed Eva was my mate. To watching the woman who was always so reticent to show any emotion in public visibly shatter in front of all of us. When I saw the uncontrollable agony that my wife was going through, I questioned whether we would ever recover.

Terror at the thought of losing her moved me into action, jumping from my seat so violently that my chair toppled over behind me. Eva clasped my forearm to stop me, her brows furrowed in astonishment, as she opened her mouth to say something I had no interest in hearing.

But before she could get a word out, Violet vomited all over her place setting.

Owen, his wife, and Eva all three recoiled in disgust, which freed my arm from her grasp that I was about to shake off. I quickly rounded the table, pulling Violet’s chair back so I could scoop her into my arms.

This ruthless, powerful woman who was stronger than many males and did not like being pampered let me carry her out of the room, causing my concern to grow ten-fold. Her uncharacteristic yield to my actions, her silent submission to my decision to haul her away, broke my heart further than it had already broken.

As I stormed out of the grand dining room, I realized Violet had partially thrown up on herself, but I didn’t care. No one followed or stopped me, likely wanting to stay away from the vomit instead of having an ounce of decency in their blood.

As I hurried us down the hallway, Violet looked around through the tears that had started before I’d even stood from my chair. I didn’t know who or what she was looking for, only that sobs wracked her body as she shook in my arms.

She had barely survived the mark of the unwanted from Lucas, and she was already showing signs of illness from whatever the fuck was happening now. I would not let her die. I couldn’t.

I rushed to her bedroom, so terrified for her safety and at the idea of losing her that I couldn’t find the words to comfort her. I only held her close, unbothered by the vomit that was spreading to my shirt. I promised myself I would do anything to keep her safe.

By the time we were in her bedroom, I stepped right into the shower. Her tears had stopped, and as her breathing calmed, so did mine. I hoped it was the prospect of being alone with me that seemed to be easing her reaction, and I took advantage of our time alone.

Turning on the shower to a comfortably warm temperature, I spoke over the spray. “I don’t care about the mate bond, Violet. I’ll reject Eva as soon as possible, as soon as we’re cleaned up.”

Violet turned into the spray to wipe off her own sick, and I dared to wrap my arms around her from behind. Her clothes sagged as they soaked up the water, and she removed her shirt, letting it slop to the shower floor. Then she turned, pulling me into the spray to wipe me off next.

Hope sparked in my chest at the nurturing gesture, and I tried to comfort her some more. “You are my wife, my alari.”

I lifted her chin gently, her hands still on my wet shirt as we locked eyes. “There is no one but you,” I promised, worried that words would not be enough.

Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying, and she was still paler than looked healthy. I wanted to draw her a bath, to fetch her some tea, to call a healer, to go reject Eva immediately. But before I could say any of that, Violet peeled my soaked shirt off me, dropping it on top of hers.

In any other situation, my mate and I shirtless together in the shower would be the beginning of a very sexy evening. It would be my cue to cherish her, to worship her, to ravage her. But she was ill, and I was desperate for her to understand what she meant to me, which required a different type of cherishing and worshiping.

Her silence unsettled me, but I realized that, just like before, back when she didn’t believe I could truly love her, actions had always had a larger impact. So I kept my useless words to myself and reached for her pants.

I unzipped them so tenderly that I think she understood my intent. She let me undress her slowly, then move all our sopping wet clothes outside the shower. They would leave a huge puddle, but I wasn’t inclined to worry about the floor of my asshole brother’s guest bathroom.

Still wearing my pants, I pumped out a dollop of shampoo, slowly reaching for Violet’s hair. With a blink of approval, she turned around to give me better access.

She let me wash her hair, rinse it, then condition it. She let me run sudsy hands all over her body with a touch meant to rejuvenate, not arouse. She let me massage her back as I rinsed her off.

Then she turned around and unzipped my pants, dropping them outside the shower with the others. When she reached for the shampoo, I gently caught her wrist. “You don’t need to.”

She stared up at me stoically, so I explained further. “I just need you to know that you are my world and that I would rather spend the rest of my days cleaning vomit off both of us than a single second without you. Please believe me.”

I pulled her toward me, our naked bodies pressing together intimately in a wholly different way than I’d ever experienced – with anyone. I gently clutched her head into the hollow of my neck, kissing the top of her head. Hope surged as she wrapped her arms around my waist.

“I will never leave you,” I promised into her ear. “Please stay and fight this with me.”

Pulling away just enough to look up at me, Violet smiled though her eyes filled with tears again. She cupped my cheek in her palm, stroking my stubble affectionately. She traced a finger up the side of my face, then along the band of light still etched along my forehead.

I had noticed it in the mirror when we’d entered the bathroom, how it matched what I’d seen of Violet’s across the dinner table. The bands were still there, but they were fractured.

For a moment, I thought all would be well as I leaned into my mate’s touch. This would be just another obstacle that didn’t matter as long as I had Violet by my side to face it with me. Like the bands of light on our foreheads, the pieces that had broken between us could be put back together.

Then she spoke, and every ounce of that hope died. “It’s time for me to return to Darkmoon – alone.”