Dance in the Rain: Chosen Book 23

by J. D. Light

  "He's not hurting anything." He bent down, using one piece of paper to shoo the spider onto the other, and then quickly carried it over to a plant sitting in the window.

  Oh good. If he stuck around long enough, the entire place would be overrun by skittering critters.

  "He's creepy as fuck," Spider Stomper said.

  What? I can't fucking remember most of these guys’ names. Half of them are fresh out of Terra Mortis.

  When Rowe returned, tossing the now slightly crumpled papers onto… the wrong desk, he stood in front of the man who'd nearly taken the life of one of Rowe's beloved friends, apparently, and crossed his arms, glaring.

  The man put his hands in the air, backing away. "Fine, fine. Shit. I thought you were the nice one of the two."

  "I am."

  The guy turned to look at me, cringing slightly. "That doesn't say a lot about you."

  I shrugged. He wasn't wrong. There wasn't much about me that could be considered nice. It was one of the things that worried me most about myself. It was why I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to claim my mate.

  Could I really pull such a sweet man into the darkness with me? A man who had already been through so much in his life? What if one day I finally snapped? What if whatever it was that was keeping me from being the same type of person that the man who'd had my mate's hair was, suddenly broke one day? What if I hurt my mate in some way?

  Clamping a hand on the back of Rowe's neck, I gave the man a small smile as we walked back toward the front of the building. "Keep fucking saving the world one tiny little creature at a time, Rowe."

  "I know it's weird," Rowe said, blushing. "I just don't like killing if it's not necessary. Even spiders."

  "The world needs people like you," I reminded him. "Unfortunately, the world needs people like me too."

  ***

  I hated being so fucking nervous my palms were sweating. And why? I hadn't been nervous while interrogating the honey badger shifter who'd killed eight other shifters in a shifter-run bakery, because they got his order wrong three times in a row.

  Though, on certain days, I had to say I related a little.

  But, as I stood in front of Braden's door, waiting for him to open it, having already knocked, I was sweating sauna style. At the rate I was losing moisture, I was going to have to chug a gallon of water by the time I got back to my own room.

  The door opened slowly, and those beautiful butterscotch eyes blinked at me from around the wood.

  "Hi," he said, his voice breaking slightly, and he cleared his throat, reaching up to adjust his glasses.

  His scent rolled out of the door around him, making me groan slightly before I cut it off. "I just wanted to make sure you were settling okay," I said, as softly as my gruff voice would allow. "I could hear you pacing from downstairs."

  He tilted his head to the side, brow creasing. "Are you making fun of my limp?" he asked blinking.

  My stomach dropped. "Fuck! No!" I raked a hand through my hair in frustration.

  I wasn't cut out for this shit. I was way too rough around the edges for someone like Braden. How could I possibly be the mate he deserved when I couldn't even check on him without insulting him?

  He chuckled, reaching out to grab my forearm. "I was joking. I know you weren't." He blushed, letting his hand drop, and stepping back, letting the door open wider so I could step through. "Sorry. It was a bad joke."

  I shook my head, giving him a self-deprecating smile. "No. I'm still so worried about offending you."

  His eyes brightened as they met mine, a surprised smile moving up his face. "Honesty. I like that."

  I shrugged, trying not to look like a bashful child. "I've never been good at avoiding elephants," I said gruffly.

  It wasn't bragging. I knew a lot of people who were proud of their straightforwardness, and it definitely was good to be on the receiving end of it when the situation warranted it, but I had a tendency to be a bit too brash sometimes.

  He moved slowly over to the bed, his limp a bit more pronounced than I had seen it when we first arrived at the safe house. He eased down on the edge of the bed, running his palm up and down his thigh.

  "How long are we staying here?" he asked after a moment, his hand stilling on his leg as he looked up, catching me watching him.

  "Well," I said, moving over to sit next to him, mentally crossing my fingers I wasn't being too forward, or possibly making him uncomfortable. My weight on the mattress had him falling sideways into me, and I had to catch him before he fell to the floor.

  I groaned, feeling like an ass for not thinking about how big I was and sitting on the side where his leg couldn't move fast enough to stabilize him.

  He laughed, putting a palm to my thigh and one to my side, pressing himself back up into a sitting position.

  I grunted, the feel of his warm palm on my body making my dick twitch further.

  "Sorry 'bout that," he said, readjusting his position, which basically put his side flush to mine, using me as his stabilizer. "What were you saying?"

  "My fault. I guess I underestimated how heavy I really am." I looked down at him, getting stuck in his eyes, loving how the longer I watched them, they turned from light butterscotch to dark toffee, making me wonder if maybe I was just craving a piece of candy or something.

  Realizing I was being kind of weird, I cleared my throat, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my thighs to cover things better left covered until I could figure out what the hell I was going to do. "In all honesty, I don't have a clue how long we'll be here. At this point, all of the chosen in the whole world need to be protected, but aside from making an international announcement about chosen and inviting all sorts of speculation and people turning their friends and family in for having a mark like that, or fanatical groups burning them at the stake like witches, I don't know how we are supposed to keep them all safe."

  "Do you want kids?" he asked me, a slight smile on his face.

  I felt my face screw up in confusion. "I'm sorry?" Clearly, he hadn't been listening to me at all.

  "Do you…" His eyes widened as he took in my expression, and I could only imagine what my resting dickhead face looked like in that moment, but he quickly threw his hands in the air, leaning away from me, looking worried. "Oh no, no. I don't mean with me," he said quickly, sounding like he was trying to reassure me, but I didn't need reassuring. If I was going to have children with anyone, it would definitely be with him. "I just meant that as a general question. I was just kind of watching how fierce you get about all these people you actually don't even know, and I was thinking you would be a really good dad."

  Literally nobody had ever thought I'd be good at anything that meant keeping another human alive and happy. It was really the opposite, actually.

  "No, I wouldn't." When he jumped back in surprise, like I'd startled him with my loud bark of denial, I lowered my volume, shrugging in hopes of looking less terrifying. "Not really. I have a pretty messed up… everything. Sometimes I can't even stand how dark I am."

  He chuckled, biting his lip when I frowned over at him. "I'm sorry. I don't really know you, even though I kinda feel like I should, but I don't see darkness in you."

  I shook my head, wishing I didn't have to tell him the truth, but knowing it was for the best. I couldn't have this precious human giving in to the mating bond that was probably trying to pull him in right then when I was destined to ruin anything special that I touched.

  I sighed, licking my teeth as I looked over his earnest face, shaking my head. "The man who had a lock of your hair… do you know who I'm talking about?"

  Reaching his hand up, he rubbed the back of his head, turning to show me the spot that was only noticeable if it was pointed out, as the hair seemed to be growing back in and blending decently with the hair around it.

  "Yeah," he said quietly, probably remembering things he wished he couldn't. Things I wished he couldn't. "He was the one who snagged me out of the patio at the hotel after I'd been
rescued. I was so damn antsy to get outside, because I'd been stuck inside for so long, I didn't care about the consequences. For some unknown reason, I felt safe with all those agents there, even knowing most of them were shifters. I didn't even begin to think that there might be someone who would brave all the people there. I just got careless, and my need for open space got me. I was out less than five hours before that guy walked up to me on the patio, telling me it was time to go back inside and that he would walk me. I'm not even really sure what happened after that, but I woke up in the back of a car."

  My growl seemed to surprise him out of his daze, and his eyes snapped over to mine. He didn't look scared, which was good, I guessed, but I still shook myself, trying to regain some control.

  I hated to think that my mate had ever gone through anything in his life that might have caused him pain, mentally or physically. He was remarkably unjaded for someone who had been through so much in his life.

  "When I found your hair hanging from his necklace like a fucking trophy, I broke both of his elbows," I said simply, needing him to know what kind of person I was.

  Licking his lips, he blinked owlishly at me, looking extremely confused. "Why?"

  "Uh…" I hadn't really thought that through, had I? I wasn't ready to divulge the mate thing to him just then. I needed more time around him. Not because I was worried I wouldn't like him. He was absolute perfection. It was because I needed to see how I was going to be around him. I had to figure out if I was going to be able to take care of him the way he needed.

  Not that he really needs anything from me. God, I was being offensive even in my thoughts, though I was pretty sure he would just laugh it off and tell me I hadn't offended him at all.

  "I needed information," I said finally, glad I didn't have to lie to him, since I had actually been getting information… about where to find Braden.

  "So," he hedged, pausing to drag his lip through his teeth. "What they were saying about you before. About you being an interrogator with questionable tactics. That was all true?"

  Before I met him, I'd never been ashamed of my job. I'd never felt an ounce of guilt for hurting someone who had hurt others, or was holding on to information that could get innocents hurt, but his sweetness, his patience, his resilience… it all made me wish I was a better man. A man whose morals weren't quite so questionable.

  "Yeah," I said, a little choked. "I hurt people to get information." I frowned hard. "And I don't feel bad about it." Usually.

  He was quiet for several long, drawn-out moments, and I squirmed for the first time in my life, feeling what many must have felt in the very beginning of the questioning while under my care.

  Finally, he glanced over at me, and I sucked in a deep breath, turning my head to meet his gaze.

  "There are days when I still think about all the ways I wished I could have hurt my parents…" he whispered, once again rubbing his hand up and down his thigh. "…could have made them feel even half of what I felt."

  I reached over, firmly running my hand over his thigh, and making him gasp. "Did they do this to you?" I asked on a whisper, taking over where he left off as his hand fell away.

  I didn't really know what I'd expected. His jeans had been stretched out from a few days of use, so it had been nearly impossible to really make out the details of his thigh until I'd held him in my arms, but I'd been so distracted by the way he felt against my body, and how close his face was to mine.

  But I hadn't expected to feel a smooth thigh beneath his cotton clad leg. I didn't feel any sharp edges or knots like I'd expected to feel with a leg that hadn't healed correctly. The shape was definitely odd, but I could feel the strength beneath my palm, the muscle.

  "No," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly before he cleared his throat. "Well… they didn't cause the break. They just didn't believe in doctors, so they wouldn't take me to get it fixed properly."

  I frowned, remembering a man I'd met once who had been a part of a religion that didn't believe in modern practices. I hadn't understood it myself, but to each their own. "Was it against their religion?"

  "No. Nothing so noble as religion and their belief that God would heal me," he grumbled, for once, his face showing something darker than was normal for him. "I might have been able to forgive them for that. It would mean that they at least believed I would get better." His lips compressed and he shook his head. "They just thought the world was out to get them. Especially people like doctors who gave you unnecessary medicine for something that nature healed on its own. And whereas I'm sure there is a modicum of truth to that, I was twelve."

  Twelve? He'd had to heal from a broken femur with no meds and without getting it fixed so it would heal correctly at twelve?

  I swallowed my grunt of anger, not wanting him to stop, needing to hear everything he had to say on the matter, even if it infuriated me.

  "I had to be in a bed for several long, long months. It took forever to even be able to put enough weight on it that I didn’t need the old wooden crutches my dad bought me at a garage sale, because that was the only place he felt safe enough to go to." He sighed again, closing his eyes. "They were both fucking crazy. And they fed off of each other."

  "Wow," I said stupidly, not sure what else I could say. What I should say.

  "Yeah." He blinked several times, and the anger cleared from his face. He chuckled. "Sorry, that got angry. I just meant that my parents are dead, and there are days I think I wish they were alive just so I could hurt them. For this, and for taking my brother with them when they went. He was an ass sometimes, but he was only seventeen. He didn't even get the chance to grow out of it."

  "No, I didn't mean it like wow, you are acting crazy. I meant it like wow, your parents were fucking dicks for neglecting you like that."

  He gave a short, laugh, giving me a small smile. "That's true."

  I'd stopped rubbing his leg at some point, and my hand was just resting on his thigh, high on his thigh. I glanced from my hand to his face, licking my lips before going back to running my hand up and down, my body heating.

  I slowly slid my palm up his thigh, rotating my hand so that my fingertips brushed his inner thigh. He gasped, and I grunted, loving how his eyes darkened.

  I was playing with fire. I was well aware of it. The more interactions I had with him, the more I touched him, the more I smelled his delicious scent, the stronger the mate pull would get. It was already bad enough I couldn't keep myself away when I'd heard him up moving around, and the longer I sat there touching him, the more I wanted.

  "Does it hurt all the time?" I asked finally, needing something to break the tension at least a little.

  He blinked, his pouty lips parted invitingly, and I grunted again, my rhino making himself known.

  "Not all the time," he answered finally. "Sometimes when I walk too much, or when I push too hard in the gym, but it's usually my hip more than anything, because of the height difference. For the most part, keeping myself moving helps to keep it from getting stiff, but when I overdo it, my quad muscles let me know."

  "It's almost time for the sun to come up," I said, finally pulling my hand away. "Maybe you should get some sleep."

  He smiled sweetly, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think I can right now, but I'll try to stop pacing so loud."

  I frowned, biting my lip. I didn't want him to have to stay up all alone for the rest of the night, but if I didn't get out of that room soon, I was going to do something he'd probably eventually regret.

  "You want to go sit on the porch with me and watch the sun come up?" I asked, remembering the old, possibly splintery porch swing. Surely, I could keep control of myself on the front porch. Right?

  He had been watching me, his eyes scanning my face over and over. He jumped slightly, his eyes going wide at the sound of my voice and his face instantly flamed red.

  "Yeah." He swallowed hard, looking away, before clearing his throat. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

  "You okay?" I asked, not l
iking that he seemed to be avoiding my gaze. Had I done something wrong? Was he just saying yes to be nice and didn't want to look at me in case I could read it in his expression?

  Was I doing that thing where I overthought his actions, just waiting for him to do something that proved I wasn't right for him?

  Definitely.

  "Yeah, sorry," he said quietly, his eyes moving toward me, but not fully committing while his head faced forward.

  Confused, I leaned forward, putting my face in his sightline. "Why?"

  He looked at me for a quick moment before glancing away. "Uh… What do you mean?"

  Narrowing my eyes, I slid to the floor in front of him, putting both of my hands on his knees. His eyes were huge as he looked down at me.

  "Why are you sorry?" I demanded.

  "Oh, my God," he whined, closing his eyes tightly. "Don't make me say it." When I didn't say anything for long, long moments, just knelt in front of him, patiently waiting for his eyes to open.

  I didn't like how often he apologized for things, like he felt the need to take responsibility for everything that happened.

  One eye opened slowly, his face cringing up. When I raised my eyebrows at him, he sighed, his body slouching in defeat.

  "I was staring at you," he mumbled, rolling his eyes as his face bloomed with color again.

  Ah. Now the blushing makes sense.

  "Okay," I said, fighting a smile. "But that really isn't a reason to apologize, is it?"

  He licked his lips before pulling them between his teeth. "Well, maybe most people don't, but I think when someone gives someone else unwanted attention that makes them uncomfortable, they should apologize."

  I nodded. Sure, that made since, only… "I'm not uncomfortable."

  "Oh." He looked at my face, tilting his head to the side. "Well, I guess I take it back," putting his nose in the air, he pushed to a standing position. "I'm not sorry at all."

  I didn't offer to carry him that time, knowing that would be pushing it since we weren't in a hurry to get anywhere. I swiped a blanket off of the back of the couch and threw it over the rough wood once we got outside, holding the swing still for him.