People with magic powers don’t have fated mates, nor do vampires, and yet Dor knows he and Dante are meant to be. The problem is that Dante doesn’t see him. He could just as well have been invisible.
Dante didn’t know someone was trying to kill him until an angry woman gives him a piece of her mind. Apparently, her best friend, Dor, has premonitions and has saved his life several times already. There is something familiar about him, but Dante can’t recall ever seeing him before. He must have if he keeps saving his life, right?
When the queen, Dante’s maker, learns about Dor’s ability, she wants to hire him to be part of Dante’s guard, and Dante doesn’t mind. He’s intrigued by the quiet man with the fascinating skill and wouldn’t mind having him around. Dor doesn’t think he can protect Dante from anything, but wouldn’t passing up a chance to be close to the love of his life be incredibly stupid?
The queen gave him a small smile. “I don’t know. I didn’t know time was part of the elements until today.”
Dor stared at her. “It’s ... eh ... not?”
“You’re an elemental, and your skill is time-related.”
Elemental? They made it sound as if they were mythical beings or creatures plucked from a superhero magazine. They weren’t. They were humans with a little extra power.
Dione looked at Sirona. “Do you also have a time ability?”
Emile scoffed. “She froze us to ice.”
Dor rolled his eyes before he could stop himself, then he winced at the pain it caused him. Dione stared at him, and he blushed. Damn, who rolled their eyes in front of a queen?
“She didn’t?” Dione aimed the question at him.
“No, she has water powers. She froze the raindrops.” Or so he assumed. Though she could freeze the liquid in a body. He wouldn’t tell them. If they didn’t realize she could be dangerous, he wouldn’t point it out.
Dione nodded. “Why?”
Dor didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure why.
Dione focused on Sirona. “Why?”
“Because they deserved it. Dor saved Dante’s life. AGAIN. And that idiot --” She gestured at Emile. “-- hit him. Do you know what happens to a human who gets hit by a vampire? It wouldn’t surprise me if he has a concussion.”
He had a headache, but he didn’t think he had a concussion. He was functioning fine, and he’d eaten without problem.
Dione’s eyes turned to slits as she looked at Emile. “You hit him?”
Emile straightened his back. “A stranger rushed into the restaurant and tipped Dante’s plate over. What should I have done?”
“Listened to what he had to say, perhaps?” Sirona was spitting mad, and Dor reached out to touch her arm before she said something she shouldn’t when in audience with a queen.
“Dante would be dead several times over if it weren’t for Dor, but you never so much as thank him.” She gestured widely at Dante. “I’ve told him to stop saving you. You deserve to die.”
And there it was. Dor didn’t think it was something you should say about the queen’s son. “Sirona.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her closer to him, standing between her and the vampires.
Since no vision of her head dropping to the floor assaulted him, he believed there might still be time to get out of here with their lives intact.
Or maybe they’d kill him in her stead. He never did see visions about himself.
“You said again.” Dione leaned to the side so she could see Sirona behind Dor.
“Dor has saved Dante’s life six times, or is it seven now? And they don’t recognize him. They would walk past him on the street as if he were invisible. He’s not! He’s a living being who deserves respect, but these assholes glare at him when he pushes them out of a bullet’s way, or away from a falling concrete block, or prevents them from being hit by cars, and all the other things he’s done.”
“Sirona.” He tried tugging at her again, but she shook him off.
“I’m sick of it. Let them die, I say.”
“Sirona!” He grabbed for her again, but she slapped his hand away.
“They don’t deserve your attention.”
He shrugged. Who was to say who deserved what? He had no say about who his visions chose to feature.
The room fell silent, and Dor chanced a glance at Dante. His mouth was slack, and his gaze far away. Maybe he was thinking back on all the times Dor had pushed him out of harm's way.
He doubted he remembered them.
“Seven times?” Dione’s eyes mapped his face. “You’ve saved Dante’s life seven times?”
He grimaced and looked away.
Dione turned to Dante. “And you never told me?”
“I ... eh ...”
“Didn’t notice.” Sirona’s hiss was venomous. “More concerned about the ice cream you dropped on the ground than the shot man bleeding by your feet. Did you know I had to dig out --”
“Sirona!” No one needed to know about what she had to dig out.
