“Where is he?I can smell him. You can't keep him away from me.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” my mother says, her fine voice shaking.
“Where is Remy?Where is my mate?”
“Who the hell are you calling your mate? He belongs tome,” says the man who tied me up in silver and left me to die in a warehouse.
“What you mean you can smell him?” my father asks, sounding alarmed. “We haven't been able to find him anywhere.”
I knew about the reward money, but offering a reward is different from actively searching. I’m shocked to find that my family has done both.
“He'shere. I don't know why you’re hiding him from me, but I will find him.”
I step into the parlor, and my mother is at my side in a second, my father only a half-step behind her.
“Remy! Where have you been?” she asks, putting her arms around me.
I brace for the few extra seconds it takes for Lazare to register my presence and make his way to me. “Cher, I’m so sorry—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I say, turning away from him just as there’s another knock at the door.
My mother opens the door, letting in a pair of uniformed officers. “New Orleans PD, ma'am,” says the older cop. “We were told that there was a family violence incident?”
More cops pull up.
Mother points to Lazare, and the younger cop immediately grabs him and pins him against the wall, slapping the handcuffs on him. I know for a fact that Lazare is capable of escaping this situation. Resisting, however, puts a target on his back.
I shake my head and point at Damian. “He's the one who kidnapped me.”
“And this guy?” the cop asks, shaking Lazare’s arm.
“He’s trespassing,” I say, biting the inside of my lip to prevent me from crying.
Lazare looks at me, his eyes incredulous and hurt.
“Don’t look at me like that, you… youcon artist. I’m nobody’s paycheck. Not anymore.”
9
Lazare
The one thing Eloy said that stuck was that they would probably call the cops. I had my doubts, but the cops showed up right on time. They’d been called because of the human bag of dicks who kidnapped Remy, but we were both arrested.
The pain on Remy's face broke my heart. I’d done that to him, me and my stupid mouth and coward heart. Now I’m sitting alone in a general holding cell, awaiting my fate. To add insult to injury, bag-o-dicks already made bail.
I very easily could have broken the handcuffs holding me or gotten away from the police officers at any point, but that would mark me as a supe, and I’m still not official. At least not on any record that I'm aware of.
I question that decision because that fucking werewolf asshole is out there and I’m in here, useless to protect the man I love.
To say that I love him, as terrifying as it is to feel and admit, is a gross understatement. I’m fucking obsessed, driven out of my mind, desperate to see, taste, touch, smell, hear him.
I know it’s mostly hormones and mating, but Gentry had it right. I’ve been clotheslined like a motherfucker.
I’m just grateful that the grumpy fairy managed to avoid arrest. I'm hoping Eloy had a chance to explain everything and that he’s watching over Remy and his family. And that he’s working out how to spring me from this place. I pace the floor, barely able to keep my wolf in check.
This full moon right before All Hallows' is already kicking my ass, and just as I think this day couldn't get any worse, I gain a new roommate.
And wouldn’t you know it—he’s a fucking werewolf.
