by Elise Jae
D’s scowl is sharp. “The other half of those men are probably part of the reason we’re here right now.”
The rest of them are silent, none look at me now.
It is quiet enough I could hear the wind howling outside.
I hesitate to ask, but…. “What does the other half think?”
No one says anything. D’s jaw is clenched so tight, I think his teeth might break.
I look at Trench. “You were chatty before. You get to tell the rest.”
He clears his throat. “There are some that think you’re a stuck-up bitch who’s toying with everyone until you can sling your hooks into the biggest fish you can find.”
“Jealous, self-loathing, pricks. Nothing more.” Arc says scowling at the ceiling.
“Takes one to know one?” Trench asks, but D doesn’t give them a chance to start the fight the question comes close to inciting.
“Maybe.” D places a hand on my shoulder, thumb gently digging into my muscles. “But someone thought there was enough of a position to pin an assassination, or at least an attempt on her.”
A small commotion breaks out. I know their language, but they’re talking fast enough, and their words tumble over each other, I don’t catch everything they say.
It doesn’t help that I’m exhausted.
D finally quiets them. “Kimba and I will work on figuring out who the guy was. I want you all to be careful. Especially those of you who aren’t bonded… it’s clear they think they have a way in with us.”
The others start to stand and leave. Some of them stop to speak to each other. But some are out the door before I can think about what had just happened.
I’m a little surprised at how quickly they move.
But I suppose I shouldn’t be. They’re here to keep monsters from getting past the mountain.
D is the only one who doesn’t shift. Like a rock in a stream.
And I’m holding onto him—mentally—to keep myself from swaying into motion.
There’s an anxious energy flowing all around us, and he’s the only calm.
He stands when all but three of them are gone. And I let him go.
But I watch them as he takes them aside, speaking low enough that I can’t make out what he’s saying.
He hands the keys to Trench, and quietly gives him instructions. He disappears too.
When he shows them out and turns back to me, he’s so tense, I can’t stop myself from standing.
“Your things will be here shortly.”
“Thanks.” I want to move to him, to work out some of the tension in his shoulders, but he’s scowling at me.
After yesterday morning’s interactions, I should be scared.
But it’s him.
If it was someone else, I’d be looking for a way out. I’d already be planning my exit when the car gets here.
But the only place I can think of to go… is to him.
When he moves, he comes directly to me and pulls me to my feet. “Come on.”
He leads me back downstairs, but this time, he doesn’t stop in the living area. His hand is warm in mine.
The house wakes up as we pass through the long lower corridor, only to sleep again as we pass by each room. Like a watchdog, raising one lid to ensure that its master is the one whose presence is disturbing their sleep.
When he stops, it’s in front of a room set into the back of the house. From where we are, I can’t see anything inside.
He pauses, and I think, for a moment he might turn around, lead me someplace else.
But he doesn’t.
With a deep breath, he presses a hand to the side of the door frame.
The lights are dim. But they fade on. There are no windows, no source of light other than the dim circles recessed into the ceiling.
But it’s obvious what it is.
His bedroom.
“I do have other rooms for you to choose from, but I’d like you to stay with me.”
“Are you sure I won’t change my mind and murder you in your sleep?”
He pauses and for a moment, I worry he thinks I might. “You won’t. But if you do… well, I wouldn’t want to be alive in a world where you’d be willing to do that. So, either way, I want you with me.”
He glances away. Concentration blanking for a moment.
“Your car is back. Trench needs to learn what speed limits are, but we’ll deal with that tomorrow. It’s late, and stress is only going to make it worse.”
I agree, and I don’t have to say it.
A loud thunk echoes behind us and D looks back into the dark.
“I hope you didn’t have anything breakable in your duffel.”
I shake my head.
“Good. Hang on.” He’s gone and back in a blink, my bag in his hand.
When I step into the room, he’s right behind me, and I realize it’s to keep me from stepping wrong. To keep me from falling.
He steps out of his boots, and kicks them into a dark corner as we go.
When he stops me, it’s beside the bed, letting go, as if he only now trusts that I’ll be able to keep myself upright before I mean to be prone.
He crosses back to the other side of the room, and I hear him moving as I wiggle my pants down.
I can’t dress how I would have if we were at Margot’s. I left all of my work clothes behind when I knew I’d have to run. But he’s always insisted on something between us, so I leave my shirt on, but my bra joins my jeans before I sit on the slippery sheets.
When D climbs into his bed, he reaches for me.
This time, like always, we fall into bed—his bed—and it’s such a normal occurrence, despite the strangeness of everything else, I manage to relax into him.
As always, time falls away, and I doze off in his arms, letting the stress of the last twenty-nine hours melt away.
A tone peals and I flinch, not sure If I’d already fallen asleep, or if it had been mere moments.
D’s arms are still around me. He squeezes me close, stroking my back, beneath my shirt.
I look at his face, because I can actually see it.
A faint, yet somehow bright, blue light filters down from the ceiling.
“It’s just a breach in the trio’s sector.” He nods to the video display overhead. “Arc will handle it.” Pressing his lips to my forehead, his next words are thick with sleep. “I’ll reconfigure the notification system in the morning.”
“No. It’s important that you know.”
He nods in an agreement I’m not certain he fully understands, and for the first time in a very long time, D falls asleep before I do.
Anxiety coils in my stomach. Not because of the giant man wrapped around me. Any fear of him has long since been killed.
But of the things beyond these walls that want to kill him.
Before I knew who he was, the scars beneath my palms, beneath my cheek, made it clear that D didn’t lead a gentle life. But monsters and men both want him dead.
And I’m going to have to find a way to ensure neither of them manage it.
DRIFT
The lights are still off when she stirs next to me, but I don't need to look at the clock to know it’s morning. The sheets sigh against her skin, just as I do with the loss of her touch.
I might be able to see the room in the dark, but she definitely can't. And while I hope she'll be around long enough she'll learn to navigate by memory....
Pressing my eyes tightly shut, I slap the switch on the side of my nightstand, and brightness slowly bleeds against my eyelids.
When the lights are full on, I open them again, and watch her move to her bag.
"Good morning," she says as she started to rifle through it. "Bathroom?"
Pointing her in the right direction, I stand and stretch.
It's damned nice to have slept that well in my own bed for once.
I pull on my clothes as my lens shuffles through the reports from last night.
The sound of Kimba in the bathroom
is soothing in a way I hadn't expected.
Other people in my spaces feel... wrong.
Out of place.
My skin doesn't crawl at the idea of her in a position to dig through all of my secrets.
Maybe I'm a fool for that.
The door to the bathroom opens, and her cheek is red when she comes out, but the rest of her face is clean and a little damp, so I assume the mark is from scrubbing... not something I have to worry about.
"Where should I put my stuff?"
She's looking at me, not the bag, and I know what I want to say, instead, I measure it—about thirty-six centimeters square, by sixty.
One drawer.
"I've got space here." I pop open the top drawer of the dresser built into my closet and scoop out the stacks of fabric—the suits that keep me a little safer when out in the ice—stuffing them into the one below.
"Will this work?"
She nods and a small smile sprouts on her face as she steps into me, pressing up on her tiptoes to kiss me. "That'll be just fine."
I sit on the bed, and she grabs out a handful of clothing, dropping it beside me.
The contents are a jumbled mass. Evidence of a rush to get out of her home. Fear caused by association with me.
Needles of irritation prickle against my spine.
"I can make more room if you have more in your car."
"Thank you, but my work wardrobe packed up small, and I didn't have much need of day-to-day clothing before."
When she picks up a shirt and starts to fold. I do too.
Partially to keep myself from dwelling on the possibilities of what could have happened if she'd been less savvy. And partially because there's no reason for me to sit back and watch when I've got every ability to help.
She pulls more things from the bag—it’s a chaotic mess, but she folds things now as she places them to the side.
There’s the tiniest tremor in her hands. Something no one else would see—the burden of my eyes. Reaching out, I take hold of her, lacing my fingers in hers.
“You’re still worried.”
Her brows pinch in what might be confusion. “Of course.”
“I won’t let them anywhere near you.”
Her smile brightens, and she leans down, kissing my forehead. “I’m not worried about me, you silly man. Someone out there is trying to kill you. Now that they know I won’t do it for them… I’m afraid of who they’ll try to send next.”
“Well, no one in this world or any other could get as close as you.”
The methodical movement of her hands pause. A full stop in the other-wise mechanical process. Lips pressed together, she looks at me. Then smiles.
“Good.”
She turns back to her bag, and this time she just dumps the whole thing out onto the bed.
Her clothing is brightly colored, but her undergarments are all dark. Something I've known... something I ignored when I bought her....
I pull the cobalt blue negligee from the pile.
Lace and silk, old symbols stitched into the hem.
I’ve never seen her wear it.
But I gave it to her.
Despite what she’d said, none of her “work wear” is in this bag.
I run the soft fabric over my hand. “Not the most sensible thing to run away in.”
“I wasn’t going to leave it behind.” Taking it from me, she folds the slithering garment.
Her smile is softer than the fabric, and I know I shouldn’t say it, but….
“You would have left me.”
“I didn’t want to.”
We’ve never actually talked about it. But we need to now. She’s here, things are going to move fast, and I need to know I’m not going to make things worse.
“I know you didn’t have any other private clients.”
She tenses, but continues to methodically fold.
“And I know we set down rules when we first met.”
She nods. It's a slow movement. Steady, but somehow unsure. “But the situation has changed.”
“It has. I’m going to do everything I need to do to protect you.”
“I know you will.” Placing the last item from her bag, she presses the drawer closed, and turns back to me. “But there are some rules….”
I know why she won’t say it. “You loved your bondmate.”
She shot a glance at the doorway. A flicker of movement others might have missed—an impulse to run.
“I’m not asking you to deny it, or even to claim you could love me more.” I drop my head to the side, hoping she’ll look at me again. “I don’t need to eclipse him.”
And then I say the one thing I’ve felt for too long to shy away from. “You’re mine, Kimba.”
FOUR
KIMBA
That should scare me.
Words like those are something I’ve tried to avoid for so long… hearing them should make me want to run out the door.
But they're true. Even if I can’t admit it out loud. And I need him to understand because he’s right. The rules have changed.
“Do you know why I can’t bond again?” Given what he does, the sort of friends he has to have made, he might already know, but I have to be sure.
“No.”
I can’t do this in his bedroom. Can’t tell him while he’s sitting there, so polite and patient.
Taking his hand, so he doesn’t think I’m running, I lead the way to the main room of his living quarters. When I let go, he waits, exactly where I leave him, and I can’t stop myself from pacing.
“Edan was murdered.” Even saying it now, I feel like a hundred bees are buzzing under my skin. “When he died….”
I’d spent so long not saying it, the words were leaden in my mouth.
“When the bond breaks every ounce of emotion in your mate pours through the connection into you. Pain, fear... rage. It’s like they’re stakes, driven through you, and all you can do is stand and take it.”
Drift doesn’t move. And for a moment, it feels like the whole world is frozen. But he doesn’t stay still for long.
He pulls me to him. I didn’t realize I was cold.
Didn’t realize how much I needed his warmth.
His hand draws soft circles over my back. “I didn’t know he’d been murdered.”
There was no reason he should.
“They kept it very quiet… but not quiet enough apparently.”
Loosening his grip, he pulls back to look at me. “What does that mean?”
“I think that’s why the men who want you dead picked me…” I try to keep the sigh quiet, but I know he feels the full movement of it. “I killed him. The man who murdered my bondmate. The moment Edan died, I turned into this… this rage monster and…. I don’t know if the man even knew I was there before he was dead.”
“There were extenuating circumstances.”
“It doesn’t matter. I killed him. I don’t even know how I did it. I was blind with the throes of death, and when I finally clawed my way out of the void of despair and rage... there were two dead men in my home.”
Drift’s eyes narrow as if considering… lips twist in a rueful smile.
“So, maybe that’s why they thought I could kill you. Because I’ve done it before.”
“Maybe. But they were wrong. You’re not going to kill me, because you’re not a killer.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Takes one to know one.”
“You kill monsters, not people.”
“We both know people can be monsters too.”
Pressing his thumb to my lips, he doesn’t quite look at me. “I am a killer. What kind of monster I take out is the only question.”
There’s something odd in his tone when he says it. Something like a decision behind the words. But whatever it is… it’s gone in an instant, and when he meets my eyes, there’s an intensity there that scares me.
That thrills me.
The problem is that I want him. And that�
�s dangerous. Because wanting him could lead to giving in and bonding again.
Bonding to him would be worse than bonding to anyone else. The way losing your bondmate tears out your very soul and then feeds it back to you is an experience I almost didn’t survive… one I don’t know if I’d be able to survive again.
It’s not simply that his job is dangerous. The fact that someone actually asked me to kill him is just more proof.
But still… I want him. I’ve wanted him for too long to deny it.
Now that we’re here… I can have him.
Just a little bit.
“Your turn for a confession.”
His brows raise, but there’s not even a hint of the suspicion I expected. “What do you want to know?”
“I know for a fact you could have ordered any woman you want from the Agency.”
Head tipped to the side, he says. “That isn’t a question.”
“It kind of is.”
I wait, all but holding my breath. Needing to know. Hoping the answer is what I expect.
“There was always a glaring problem…. They weren’t you.”
Three simple words knocked the breath from me, and I press up onto my toes kissing him as though it’s the only way to get my bearings. As though not kissing him would send me spinning off into oblivion.
He’s my anchor. When that became true, I don’t know. All I know is that it is.
And he’s kissing me back.
It’s been four years, but I still remember the way it felt to kiss my bondmate. The surety of the emotion coming back across the bond. Knowing what he wanted, where things were headed in that particular encounter….
This has none of that.
We’re disconnected from each other, but I can feel the way he wants me.
And I can feel his restraint.
His hands are firm at my waist, but he doesn’t move past that.
Pulling his lips from mine with a groan that rumbles through me, he pulls back, just an inch, his eyes searching mine, and then his gaze drops to my lips
“I’m a patient man, Kimba. I’ll wait for you as long as you need. And I’ll be happy with whatever you give me.”
His muscles are clenched tight as he lets go of me. I can see the tightness in his shoulders as he turns to the couch, to put some space between us.