by P. Jameson
Nyla’s eyes came open in the dark. Over the years of living in Bastian’s basement, she’d perfected the art of waking quietly. She never wanted to wake the other girls when they were able to sleep. Especially Skye and Janet. They needed that recovery time more than any of them.
And often, Nyla’s nights were incomplete anyway. Sleeping more than four hours at a time wasn’t part of her life anymore. Unless she was exhausted and starved apparently. Then she could sleep for an entire week.
But it wasn’t entirely dark in the room. Light glowed from the only working monitor left on the desk, reflecting off the planes of Skittles’s hard jaw. His look of concentration was punctuated by his thick glasses as one thumb rubbed absently along his full lower lip. Thinking. He was thinking.
What was he thinking about, she wondered.
Her gaze slid to his muscular chest, flexing with every breath, colors and shapes and ripped strength. She bit her cheek to keep in her sound of appreciation.
Great. She’d woken up horny.
As if she needed any extra help in that department when it came to him.
Distraction. She needed a distraction.
Bullets. Bullet holes. The ones that tore the place up. The ones they were all lucky enough to not be carrying. Shit, it would happen again, wouldn’t it? Bastian wasn’t nearly done with them. A sick feeling of dread filled her, followed by the hot zing of fury. It gave her a high she couldn’t say no to.
Revenge was still in the future, and it was all she wanted. The faster the better.
There. That did it. Distraction accomplished.
Nyla closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the choking realization that Bastian still owned her. If he could control her like this, with just a thought… if she was consumed with him… then he was still in charge.
It had to end. But how did she get the revenge she so desperately needed and keep the ones she cared about safe at the same time?
Kill him.
It was the only way, wasn’t it? She couldn’t think of another. And damn, had she thought about it since the rude awakening this morning.
It was time for action. No more healing. She needed to get stronger, get smarter. And fast. She needed to figure out her plan, and make it happen.
She would start today, now.
She would talk to Vegas and the others. Glean as much information as she could. Vegas was something… other now. More powerful than the Firecats, Marlee said. And she had just as much reason to hate Bastian. Maybe she would help rid the world of him.
Nyla padded quietly to the desk to peer over Skittles’s shoulder. He didn’t even notice she’d left the bed until she was right beside him. He tried to click away from what he was looking at, but it was too late.
On the screen was a purchase window with a list of items he was apparently buying… for her?
There was the hair product she’d requested, some drawing pencils and a sketch pad, a journal.
“Why aren’t you sleeping, mate?” he asked, turning the chair toward her.
“Couldn’t anymore. What are you doing?”
Skittles grabbed her hips and eased her down to sit on his lap before twisting the chair back to the monitor.
Oh. This was… different. But she didn’t hate it.
“I couldn’t sleep either,” he murmured, his breath skating over her neck as she stared at the screen. “Decided to put an order in for the stuff you needed. It will be here in two days. Maybe less.”
Nyla scanned the list, her eyes falling on something peculiar. “What’s that?” She palmed the mouse and scrolled to click on the item. It opened up into a picture of a beautiful woman in a sexy nightie. It was silky satin, edged with lace, and the hem ended just below her bottom where a pair of matching panties peeked out. “You were buying this? For me?”
“I thought it would look beautiful on you, and give you something pretty to sleep in. In case you were tired of borrowing t-shirts. Says it’s blue. Looks lighter than navy but richer than the sky.”
“It’s royal blue,” she confirmed. “Not light, not exactly dark. Bold. Like the part of the ocean right before you get to the midnight zone.”
“I was thinking of it against your dark skin…” He dragged his fingertips down her arm until his tattooed hand covered hers and he linked their fingers together. “Does it bother you?”
She turned to find his eyes, digging in to read him. He’d put a lot of thought into this, into choosing things he thought she’d like. It was so damn sweet.
“No,” she answered with the truth. “Thank you.”
The expression on his face was so proud. So pleased. It made her want to kiss him hard just to get a taste of it.
“Does my girl like getting presents?” he whispered, his gaze falling to her lips.
My girl. God, what those words did to her.
She wanted to be his girl. Wow, she really did.
“Yes.”
A sound rumbled from his chest, rolling like a purr. She leaned in, not sure if they were going to kiss or not, just wanting to be closer. Needing it. Whether it was the darkness of the early morning or that he was breaking down her defenses with his care… whatever the case, she wanted him. She wanted everything he offered. She wanted him to take her away from the things that hurt her heart, even if it was just for a few precious moments.
The fact that he had the power to even do that, soothe her heart… it made him so damn powerful. More than anyone she knew.
“Nyla,” he breathed. “I feel you inside me. Did you know that? Do you feel it too?”
She did feel it. A sweet burning sensation in the center of her chest where she felt his… love. Did he love her?
“How is it possible?”
“It’s a bond. Something that connects us in a way nothing can break. It’s very new, but it’s there. And it will only get stronger.”
Shit. No. It couldn’t get stronger.
Not because she didn’t want him. But because she couldn’t risk him.
Skittles stiffened, frowning. “Don’t be afraid, my femal—”
The sound of a message alert coming through on the computer cut him off and Nyla turned back to the screen, both grateful and resentful for the interruption.
Skittles moused over the email and opened it. Together they read the awful words neither expected to ever see:
You can keep the Dolls you stole from me. All but Number Seven. I want her back. This is non-negotiable. Let’s make a deal. And don’t keep me waiting.
***
Skittles ground his molars together, grappling for patience as he waited for the other Alley Cats to settle down. The lounge was slowly filling up even though the sun wasn’t fully risen in the sky. For a moment, he marveled at how this space used to be for partying and fucking and burying their pain any way they could figure out how. Now it was used to strategize, and for Mama Kitty’s required weekly “family dinners”.
Things had changed more than anyone wanted to admit in the last several months.
Fang stumbled in, looking like the rough end of a moose. He dropped onto a couch across the room, avoiding Skittles’s gaze. He knew Fang was hurting with all these changes. And he wasn’t alone. It was hard for the ones that didn’t have a mate to give them hope. Skittles had known that pain too. But at least now they could see it was possible.
Redemption was possible.
Felix stalked to the center of the room, demanding everyone’s attention.
Demanding attention.
It had been a long damn time since any of them felt compelled to obey their leader. They did obey, but more out of habit rather than instinct.
Fuck, he looked powerful again. Dangerous, Skittles’s Firecat warned.
Felix stood tall, his shoulders losing their hunched sickly feel. His chin jutted and his golden eyes looked sharp for this early in the morning. Maybe this was just what Felix was like with no alcohol in his system. Or maybe…
No. Felix wasn’t changing.
<
br /> Was he?
The mere idea had Skittles’s hackles rising. Felix, with the power of a Firecat would be the most deadly male in Memphis. Hands down. Shit.
But they had another problem to worry about right now.
Felix snapped his fingers, holding out his palm, and Ace passed him a sheet of printed paper. It was the message Skittles had forwarded. Bastian’s goddamn requirements.
I want Number Seven.
Well fuck him. He wasn’t getting Nyla back. Not ever.
Felix read the message out loud, his voice grating and full of fury. Skittles was on edge waiting for the clan’s response. Once upon a time, the idea of trading one person for the safety of the others would have been an easy hell yeah. What would they say now?
It didn’t matter, because he was never letting Nyla go. But it would be nice if his clan backed him on that.
Weaver spoke up from the back somewhere. “He wants only one of the females? Why not give him what he wants?”
Skittles growled, opening his mouth to tell the Alley Cat to fuck off, but Felix beat him to it.
“We’re not giving that asshole any of our females. The only thing he’s getting is fucked. Because I’ve had enough. This shit stops now. The next time he comes at our clan will be his fucking last. Hear me now.” Felix ended in a thunderous roar that none of them had been expecting. It reverberated against the steel beams, holding them all captive for several moments.
Skittles found Ratchet and Monster standing off to the side. Both of them were arms crossed like a couple of sentinels. He met Ratchet’s frown with one of his own while Monster’s scarred brow furrowed deep.
“But this is our home,” Shooter spoke up. He tipped his chin forward stubbornly, clearly testing Felix. “Shouldn’t we do what we can to defend it? She’s been here what… a couple weeks?”
“You’re afraid,” Skittles boomed before Felix could answer… or rip the cat’s face off for the offense.
Shooter scoffed, his face twisting into a dark glower. “Afraid? The fuck you say? I’m not afraid. And I want your skin for that.”
Skittles laughed. The asshole wanted a scourge for the insult. Wanted to take a piece of Skittles’s back for penance. Payback. Revenge. He’d even demanded it of Ratchet when he failed to bring back Nyla. It was what they lived for… before.
Things were different now.
“You got it. You want my skin for telling you the truth? Fine, as long as you agree that we aren’t giving Bastian anything. Ever. Again.”
“No,” Felix said, shutting them both down. “I love a good scourge as much as the next cat, but this is a waste of time.”
“A waste of time?” someone else called out. “Since when are our fucking traditions a waste of time?”
Felix seemed to fumble for an answer until Ratchet spoke up.
“Since our warehouse got shot up and people almost died. Since we learned we need to change to get our power back. Since we have females to protect now.” He stepped into the middle of the room, right beside Felix, eyeing each of the men one by one. “Listen, I know what some of you are thinking. I’ve seen the way you watch the Dolls. You want your chance, but none of them are yours. None of them call out that inner beast that’s waiting for you to heal. But if you can’t prove yourself now, with these five females… if you can’t find reasons to save these mates… you’ll never get your chance. Simple as that. The healing comes with change. Stand against change, and you’ll be lost forever.”
Nobody said a word. Maybe they didn’t even breathe, as Ratchet’s words sank in.
It was about being a clan, a solid group, and coming together. Maybe it started out with just one of them healing, and then another, and another. But to beat Bastian at his own game, they would have to do it together.
The brotherhood that was fractured on a battlefield in the Ouachita Mountains had to come back together, and do it for the right reasons.
Skittles crossed the room to stand beside Felix. He found Shooter, looking him dead in the eyes as he gave him something more valuable than the skin of his back. Something he held tighter than anything else.
Something he hadn’t even shared with his mate yet.
“They say home is where the heart is, but that’s not right. Because my heart was locked away in a dirty basement for too long while I tried to find her. Naw, home is where you lay your head when you’re done fighting. It’s where you go when you need to feel safe. Home is your landing place. Your saving grace. Your stopping point. Where you can breathe again. Home is where you can feel the things you feel, and never be ashamed of them. Can you imagine something like that? Hm? Any of you? I’ve never had a home before. Now... now I do. And I’m going to protect her. Mine.” He pounded a fist to his chest, the once empty space where Nyla lived now. “No matter what the fuck the rest of you think.”
The reaction was exactly what he had hoped for. The brothers murmured and nodded their appreciation even if it was grudgingly. Because the one thing an Alley Cat respected was power. And they knew Skittles had enough of it to follow through with his words.
Fang stood, strolling lazily forward. “I just have one goddamn question for you assholes.”
Skittles eyed him. Don’t fuck this up, man, he pleaded silently.
“Is this some kind of a joke?” Fang asked, squinting through one eye. “Does Bastian the Bastard think he can go to war with the mutherfuckin’ Firecats… and actually win?”
Murmurs of agreement from the others fed Skittles’s pride in the group. They weren’t perfect. God, not even close. But there was growth. And growth meant they were going to be all right. Eventually.
Felix crossed his arms, nodding along with the others. “Skittles, send a message back. Two words: Fuck and you.” He grinned, looking furious and crazy. His expression sent a chill over Skittles’s skin. “This is war. That bastard is going down.”
Yes, Skittles’s animal rumbled. Kill the one who wants to hurt mate.
Chapter Twenty
Nyla sat cross-legged on the small couch in Mama Kitty’s office. The girls were having a meeting of their own while Skittles talked to the clan about Bastian’s message. He didn’t want her there, even though she was the one putting his people… and hers… in danger.
But she had snuck into the hallway near the lounge and listened in before coming to meet the Dolls. She knew the other Alley Cats questioned whether or not to give her back. And she didn’t blame them. Wanted to punch them in the face maybe. But she didn’t blame them for wanting to keep this place safe.
Nyla chewed her lip, nervously watching the others go back and forth. Everyone was there except Skye and the older lady Skittles called Mama. She’d offered to get cookies from the kitchen. Marlee’s pregnancy cravings were in full force and she apparently had a thing for Mama Kitty’s chocolate chip cookies.
“They’ll never let him have Nyla back. It’s out of the question,” Vegas said, and Marlee nodded in full agreement.
“Skittles will fight for her if he needs to. But I don’t think it will come to that.”
“Why will he fight for me though?” She knew it was true. She had felt it in the way his grip on her tightened as they read Bastian’s demand. Even heard him say it to his brothers… home. He called her his home. It made her heart soar and crash all in one beat. “He would put everyone in danger for me? How am I that important?”
“You’re important to us too,” Janet said quietly. She held her stomach and breathed through her mouth as if she was moments away from launching herself at a trashcan and losing her stomach.
Damn it.
Nyla had hoped Janet’s freedom would’ve helped her nerves some. But then again, they weren’t out of the woods yet. The shooting proved it.
“And he would fight for me because… because I’m one of you?” She desperately needed to understand what the others already seemed to know.
Marlee shook her head. “No. Well, yes. Maybe. But that’s not the main reason.”
/> Vegas started, “He’s claime—”
“Claimed me, yes. I know. But what the hell does that actually mean?”
Vegas and Marlee shared a look.
“What? Come on, give it to me straight.”
“He wants to have a life with you, Nyla,” Vegas said carefully.
Nyla scoffed. “What do you mean?”
“Like Ratchet and Marlee. Like me and Monster. He wants a future. He wants to love and be loved. It’s not so strange really. Don’t we all want that?”
Janet nodded, frowning and clenching her middle.
“But we only barely know each other. How can he want that with me?” The others didn’t know the attraction they shared, didn’t know that he’d already touched her, and she’d kissed him… even if it didn’t last long. They didn’t know that he made her go molten inside with just a look. Or that he made her feel so many things she was trying hard not to feel. Things that made her chest throb. Made her insides quake. Made her care too much. They didn’t know that he felt like the answer to so many of life’s questions or that she’d never had someone tell her she should dream.
Soñadora. It meant dreamer in Spanish.
She’d looked it up after he left to meet the others.
And if she still doubted it after all that, how could they be so sure?
“It’s linked to the animal,” Vegas murmured. “The animal knows immediately. And he’s known since…”
“The photo.”
Vegas nodded.
“No,” Nyla shook her head. “You can’t fall for a person after seeing them in a photo. You can’t.” It was too flimsy. Too superficial. And whatever was happening between her and Skittles was not superficial.
“He didn’t fall for you just by seeing the photo,” Marlee cut in. “He claimed you after seeing the photo. He’s falling for you now, by spending time with you, learning about you.”
“Claimed. You keep using that word.”
“The animal inside him said, her, she’s the one for you. And he decided to listen. He moved hell to get you out, to get us all free. Just for the chance at spending forever with you. And now, he will do it again to keep you safe from Bastian. That’s how this works. Once they commit to a mate, it’s for life. It’s his bond to you that breaks the curse.”