Page 62 of Tethered Fates

Feeling more relaxed and following her quiet breathing, I stand up and look around the bland room. It’s got a wardrobe I’ve already looked in and a floor-to-ceiling window I’ve already looked out of.

“Kai’s living in a boring-ass mansion,” I tell Mum.

“At least it’s an upgrade from his terrible little flat.”

I huff a laugh, dropping down to wiggle under the king-size bed on my stomach, disappointed when there isn’t even a stray sock.

I belly-crawl to each leg of the four-poster bed, running my fingers over the cool, polished wood. But it isn’t until the bottom left one that I find a fingernail-length scratch.

Finally, an imperfection.

Something to cut through the too-perfect guest room pretending to be normal, when nothing in this mansion—in me—is normal anymore.

“Thanks, Mum.” I flop onto my back, breathing easier as I stare at the wooden slats holding the mattress. “For listening.”

“Of course, Teagan.”

We hang in the silence together for a moment longer before hanging up.

Soon, in the easy quiet, an idea comes to the surface.

I shoot my hand out to drag my backpack under the bed, like I’m a tentacled sea monster capturing prey to pull into its lair. Unzipping it, I reach inside for a small palette knife that I’ve used maybe once. With the triangle point, I carve a dick into the middle slat—snickering as I shape the bulbous head, stubby shaft and two bouncy balls.

It’s stupid, immature.

I love it.

The weight I didn’t even notice weighing me down slips off my chest.

Once I’m done—a few curled wood shavings scattered across my nose—I toss my palette knife back into my backpack, hook the strap around my wrist, then roll out from under the bed to bolt up on my feet.

Mum said I needed someone, so I should go find them.

I’m already out of the room before I can question myself, slinging my bag over my shoulders.

I stroll down the hallway, my bare feet puffing along the green runners. There aren’t any cobwebs in the corners, and the side tables are recently dusted. But I haven’t seen anyone cleaning. Back at uni, I lived in a shared house. We had a cleaning rota that no one followed and everyone fought over. I wonder if it’s like that here.

I snicker at the idea of Vidar taking out the rubbish.

I head towards the kitchen, but on my way there, I hear voices, then spy Kai on the cushioned bench by the window. Golden on one side, frowning at unravelled yellow yarn pooling in his lap, his knee bouncing. On the other side, from Kai’s description, he must be Ramy.

Kai said he was beautiful, but that doesn’t do the other man justice. He’s got dark, hooded eyes, long black hair kissing the elegant lines of his neck and dewy Arabic-brown skin.

I startle when I realise Ramy is staring right at me. From this distance, I’m surprised he could hear me coming. I expect Ramy to signal to Kai that I’m there.

He doesn’t.

Ramy offers me the smallest of smiles, like a promise to hide my secret. A gesture I return as he shifts back to my brother and a nervous Golden.

I’m quick to change directions in case Kai spots me, heading in the one place Kai gave me strict instructions to stay away from. Raising my fist, I knock on that very door my brother warned me about, and keep knocking when no one answers.

After ten seconds, I hear a curse, the pounding of feet, then Elio all but rips the door off its hinges.

“Yo.”

“Would you stop?” Elio snaps.

I shrug, tucking my hands into my pockets, and don’t bother to pretend I’m not looking over his shoulder into his room. It’s decorated like mine, with only an open duffel bag at the foot of the bed.