The Alpha's Blind Fate
Chapter 85: To Avoid His Eyes

Chapter 85: To Avoid His Eyes

ZINA

Zina knew that one’s wolf could communicate with the shifter, but she hadn’t in her wildest dreams expected that such communication would be so whiny to the extent that it drove her crazy.

Before morning came, Zina realised that she had not only spent her whole night tossing about her makeshift bed, but she had also spent it listening to the never ending whining of her wolf that didn’t fail to point out just how despicable she was for not only failing to complete the bond with Daemon, but for also being okay at the prospect of being away from each other even if it was just for ten days.

Zina wondered what would happen if her wolf were to learn that she planned on moving ahead with her vow of chastity in a bid to become a high priestess. Zina’s head would definitely be chopped off by its endless whining.

So there she was in the very early hours of morning, tossing at her bed like a jobless being. Frustrated, she yanked off the quilt, taking to pacing about the tent while she dug her fingers in her hair to take off the edges of her frustration.

She could allege all she wanted that her wolf was responsible for her unrest, but that wasn’t entirely true.

When Zina had finally managed to eat and rest, she had thought a lot about all that happened and she had finally processed it all.

And in everything she processed, one madness stood out; the fact that she had a second chance at mate.

When Jacen Vampage had rejected her, it had stung beyond the pain of the rejection. But Zina was able to temporarily move on from that incident by reassuring herself that she had a pack and a family that loved her. However that reassurance and her temporal recovery from the rejection shattered when she realised the true colours of the WolfKnights.

And in the wake of her becoming Theta and the crazy changes that happened in her life, Zina had thought she had managed to harden her heart as per Theta Amelia’s advice, but it was on the day that she tried to take her life that she realised that her heart was hardly hardened.

Deep inside her was a wound that had scabbed on the outside, but in reality, was festering on the inside.

As she lunged to fall for her death—her unprocessed grief, the hole in her heart, her abandonment issues, and the guilt towards Daemon had flashed through her eyes. All of them were like unmoving blocks of ice that she could not melt.

After Falcon rescued her, that period marked the most chaotic, dark, bleak one in her entire existence. Sybril and Seraph tried to hold her together, and somehow, Zina managed to raise her head through the thousands of emotions that threatened to suffocate her.

She never healed from that incident, but somehow, she managed to see hope to move on with the sparse insanity that remained in her life.

But now, she feared she could no longer go on living like that. For she knew better than anyone that if the bubble of power that she managed to possess was to be popped at, all that would remain in its wake would be an empty can for a woman.

Rubbing her hands all over her face, Zina exhaled harshly. Her wolf was right, for she too could not find it in her to let things with the one man her fate had become inextricably tied to end like that.

So that’s how she saw herself out of her tent in her night slip, with a cloak clutched against her body to protect her from the biting moist cold of the GreenLands. She honestly didn’t miss the East, and the earlier she was out of there the better it would be for her and her already in tethers mental health.

Zina could swear that it was an invisible hand that pushed her forward until she found herself before Daemon’s tent. The guards standing in front of it stared at her confusedly, their eyes widened.

"Theta, what brings you here at this hour?"

At this hour? It wasn’t exactly that late. It was the early hours of morning and most people were very early risers... just like her.

But when Zina thought more about it, their shock made sense. Daemon could be very well still sleeping, and yet, there she was, wanting to see him. She groaned internally—she was already there so there was no going back.

Clutching her cloak tighter to her body, Zina spoke like she was there for some serious business and not to sate her and her wolf’s curiosity. "I want to see the banished prince before he departs today for the Desert South."

The two guards exchanged unsure glances probably remembering Zina’s earlier dramatic forceful entrance that ended with an arrow flying for her head.

She wondered what it would be this time; perhaps an axe? Or even worse.

But she didn’t have to wonder for long when a gruff voice spoke from inside. "Let her in."

So he wasn’t sleeping.

The guards quickly parted for her, and Zina took careful, deliberate steps into the large expanse of the tent that was Daemon’s dwellings. It was naturally no longer as illuminated as it had been in the day. Now, only one lone candle chandelier was illuminated on the table that Daemon sat on, and the man in question was relaxed in his chair, his eyes glued to a book that he was reading.

The light, illuminating his face made his features seem harsher and haggard. Like he had not even slept a wink like her too. Although Zina was well aware it would not be for the same reason as her lack of sleep.

After seconds of silence that stretched into minutes, Daemon flipped to the next page still not looking at her.

"Are you just going to keep standing there?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the book.

Meanwhile, Zina’s wolf was performing a kind of lewd dance in her head that Zina was ashamed to name.

’Touch him! At least let me rub my head against his wolf’s!"

Rub...?!

Zina shoved back at the wolf so hard till her voice in her head was buried in a trailing echo. Her cheeks burned, and she clutched her cloak tighter.

No matter, it seemed that Daemon was far more interested in the book he was reading than he was in her unusual presence in his room.

Zina took five careful steps that brought her figure directly three steps away before the table he was reading on.

"It wasn’t for power." She suddenly said, and when the words rolled out of her lips, she secretly hoped the ground would open up and swallow her.

Daemon, who had been at the act of flipping to the next page, paused, and his hand hung mid air.

Finally he flipped the page, still not looking at her. "So it was for family then?" He said blankly, his voice betraying the fact that he wasn’t at all curious to know the answer.

Perhaps something was wrong with their bond, for while Zina felt an overwhelming urge to be in his presence and have his eyes on her, Daemon, who certainly had more experience than her, seemed not to care in the least.

Was the bond wonky? Faulty? Surely a man could not possess such an amount of control?

Zina laughed awkwardly. At least she was amazed that he remembered their last conversation and was able to understand the question she was answering. "I am ashamed but that is the truth. It was for family."

Another flipped page. Was he seriously reading when Zina was baring her heart?

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I am not a lying conniving thing." Zina answered quickly without a pause, remembering his exact words to her. "I do not ask for your trust. But I wanted to make it clear that whether you hold back my people or not, I would still do as we have agreed because it is what I want too."

Another flipped page.

"I see my distrust in you bothers you. Believe me it is technical, if it were any other person I would have done the same."

Zina didn’t know what prompted her, but she found herself saying, "Would it be the same if it was Yaren?"

Finally, his eyes were on her. Barely illuminated by the candlelight, his black pits seemed chaotic in a manner that almost made Zina almost stagger from the weight of it.

Daemon scoffed. "You compare yourself to my brother? Because of our bond?"

"Not really, I suppose I was merely checking something...." Zina trailed, suffering from an awkwardness she had never suffered from before.

Daemon stood from the table, bringing his towering height directly before her smaller one. Locks of his hair still obstructed his eyes in a way that made Zina want to reach out and part those locks till all of his eyes were exposed and on her without any obstruction.

"Why are you really here?" He asked with a frown, and Zina could have sworn she felt a bubble trap them in a world where only the truth existed.

Zina released her tight hold over her cloak, relaxing her frame. "I’ve come to bid you a short farewell."

Daemon’s response was a fire that brimmed in his eyes, ensconcing turbulent emotions that Zina’s new eyes could not name. And as Zina looked into those dark pits of eyes, she had a sudden revelation....

...that if she ever wanted to guard her heart and mind as her younger self had said in their first meeting, then she must avoid looking into Daemon NorthSteed’s eyes with everything in her.

"In that case," he said in a voice that spurred her heart and made her stomach clench in a way Zina never thought was possible. "I must show you how to bid a proper farewell."

And then his lips were descending for hers.

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