Chapter 161
Ivan
Jeremy's eyes are soft and bright as he watches Nia drift lazily across the pool in her floatie, her laughter bubbling like champagne. There's this almost childlike wonder on his face whenever he looks at her. Honestly, between him and Zander, my daughter's never going to know a single day of being told "no."
Which means I, unfortunately, will have to be the sane parent in this house.
I laugh to myself, but when Jeremy turns his head back toward me, my gaze snags on the side of his neck.
The mark.
It's faint now, time-worn and soft at the edges, but unmistakable.
The symbol of a bond that outlived its other half.
The air between us quiets, the kind of silence that holds more weight than words ever could.
"When did you get the mark?" I hear myself ask.
Jeremy blinks, caught off guard. He touches his neck absentmindedly, as though he'd forgotten it was even there.
"I forget I even have this old thing," he says with a small, wistful smile.
I dip my toes into the cool water, twirling my fingers in the ripples as I fidget.
"Zander asked me," I say softly.
Jeremy's brow furrows, eyes narrowing just a little. "Is he pressing you?"
"No—no, not at all," I rush to assure him. "He just brought it up once. Casually."
"I see." He nods slowly, thoughtful. Then, gently: "You know, a mark isn't necessary."
"I know." I pick at the hem of my shorts, watching the way the sunlight dances across the pool's surface. "I just… I've been thinking. I have a friend who recently got one, and it made me wonder."
Jeremy chuckles, low and warm. "Honestly, I'm not the right person to ask about restraint."
I glance up, confused, and he grins. "I got mated to Zander's father in the firstweek of knowing him."
My head snaps toward him, eyes wide. "What?"
"Yup," he says, laughing fully this time. "Looking back now, that was… a very risky, extremely impulsive decision. But…" His voice softens, gaze drifting to the water where Nia splashes.
"I regret nothing."
I can almost see it then, the way his eyes go somewhere else—back to a younger version of himself, swept off his feet.
"I didn't expect that," I admit, and he laughs again, fond and aching all at once.
"I was stupidly in love," Jeremy says simply. "Didn't stand a chance."
I let out a slow breath, the thought I've been dancing around finally finding its way out.
"I know the science of it," I murmur. "The way the mark settles heats, stabilizes pheromone bonding, creates that deep chemical tether. I know that for me… if I accept it, there won't ever be anyone else. Not really. But if something happens to me, Zander can still move on. He'll still have that choice."
Jeremy tilts his head, studying me carefully.
"So what you're really asking," he says softly, "is what it felt like to be marked."
I nod, throat suddenly tight.
"Yeah, I guess I just… kind of don't get it," I admit, the words soft and unsteady.
I won't lie and pretend I'm not afraid. I love Zander. God, I love him so much it hurts sometimes. But the mark—
The mark terrifies me.
Maybe it's because I wasn't raised here, because I grew up with the idea that love was something you chose every day—not something etched into your skin, into your soul. A mating mark feels like giving up so much of my power. Like putting my autonomy into someone else's hands and hoping they don't crush it.
It feels to big to me who grew up on earth, not in this universe.
"Having a mark…" Jeremy starts slowly, his voice carrying a distant sort of warmth, like he's speaking from a place far away. "I can't explain it, not properly. But the second it happens, it's… ethereal."
He meets my eyes. "It's more than bonding. It's like your souls entwine—threading together so closely, so deeply, that it's the closest you'll ever be to another person. Ever."
I don't respond. I just watch Nia in the pool, kicking and laughing, sunlight catching in the curls of her hair.
"Getting a mark is a leap of faith, Ivan," Jeremy says gently.
He shifts closer to me, his tone firm but kind. "I won't lie to you and say you have to. I've seen terrible mated pairs. I know my son loves you. You know Zander loves you. But no one—not even the most bonded of pairs—knows what the future holds. It's like…" He pauses, searching for the words.
"It's like ripping out your own heart and handing it to someone, praying they never stab it."
The way he says it makes something heavy settle low in my chest.
Jeremy reaches over and takes my hand—steady, warm, grounding. "Remember, Ivan. You don't have to."
"Look at me," he adds softly.
I meet his eyes, a quiet question already forming in mine.
"Do you regret it?" I ask. My voice cracks slightly. "I mean—not what you had with him. But the mark. Because if it weren't for it, maybe you could have moved on by now."
He goes quiet, gaze drifting back to the pool. A long, still moment passes between us.
"No," he says finally.
I blink.
"Sure, there've been moments when I did regret it," he continues, voice lower now.
"Nights when the bed was too cold and the house was too silent. When the loneliness felt like it was swallowing me whole. There were times I wished… I wished I had someone .... anyone to hold." He exhales slowly.
"It's not easy. It's never been easy. But if I knew everything I know now, and I was given a chance to go back?"
He turns to me, his expression soft but sure. "I'd make the exact same choice."
I swallow. "Even with all the pain?"
"Even with all the pain," he says with a small, genuine smile. And I know he means it.
"Besides," he adds, mischief glinting in his eyes, "those ten years we were together—we had so much sex it's lasted me a lifetime."
I choke out a laugh, surprised by the sudden shift. He grins.
"This mark," he says, running a thumb over the faded scar, "is proof of what we had. What he meant to me. I love it. I regret nothing."
I let the silence sit with us for a moment, softer this time. Nia's laughter floats through the air like sunlight.
Jeremy gives my hand a light squeeze. "Just… think about it. It's not a small decision. My story isn't yours. Your bond with Zander will be its own thing, if you ever choose it."
"Okay," I whisper, the word settling in my chest like a stone—and maybe, just maybe, like the start of clarity.