With great reluctance, Sloane admitted, “I hunt people. Not for an assignment.”
It took her a moment to comprehend exactly what he was and wasn’t saying.
“Oh,” she dragged out. “So you… go off book, so to speak.”
Sloane held her like he thought she’d try to escape him at any moment. Helmet digging into the top of her head, he replied, “Patrol doesn’t catch everything. They don’t protect everyone — like you, and like the people who we—Iwas assigned to… I try to help the only way I know how.”
Cecilia took a moment to let his confession sink in. Again, she couldn’t say she was surprised. Thinking back to the night they met, it all seemed to click together. But it was one thing to suspect it and quite another to hear it plainly.
It felt a little dismissive of the seriousness of death for her to blurt out the first thing that came to her mind, but after several tense moments of silence, she decided that it was her true reaction.
Or rather, a lack of one.
Picking her words carefully, she began, “Listen, Sloane. I’m arrant. I’m not like you. I’m not strong or fast or magical. You said it yourself. I’m weak and defenseless. We’reprey.We survive because we’re adaptable and smart, but everyone knows how easily we could be gobbled up by elves or orcs or dragons or even vampires. We live with that knowledge from pretty much the moment we’re born, and a lot of us… well, a lot of us learn to coexist with the fear that breathes down our necks every second of every day.”
She stroked the tips of her fingers up his spine, tracing the strong muscles that bracketed either side, until she found the muscled wings of his shoulder blades. In a quieter voice, she admitted, “So… as long as you’re protecting people, then I’m not going to condemn you. It’s not pretty, but it’s the truth.”
She felt more than heard his sharp inhale. “You don’t think I’m a monster?”
“I think that there are good monsters and there are bad monsters,” she answered, eyes fluttering shut. “And I happen to know you’re a good one.”
“You’re good, Cece,” he murmured. “I’m glad you teach young. Children deserve goodness.”
Heart breaking for him all over again, she told him, “So did you, Sloane.”
“You’re here now.” He let out a long exhale, like a great weight had finally lifted from his chest. “That’s all I need.”
“I’m here,” she repeated, arms tightening. “I’m here.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Sloane slippedout from beneath his consort’s arms and the warmth of the covers. It nearly killed him to do it, but he had no choice.
Standing by the bed, he leaned down to pull the blankets over her slim shoulders. He arranged them with painstaking care, delaying the inevitability of his exit, before he forced his feet to move. Grabbing his boots off the floor and his bundle of clothing, he left the bedroom without a sound. He only felt a small twinge of discomfort when he engaged the lock on the door.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. He did. Mostly. But the lock would work to keepoutanyone just as well as it worked to keep herin.That was a small amount of assurance for him and his raging instincts.
Very small.
It would have to be enough. He had work to do.
Sloane dressed quickly. Logically, he knew nothing had changed about his kit. It was identical to every other one he owned. And yet somehow it still felt different on his skin after what they’d done together. Maybe his skin was different. Maybeeverything about him was different now that he knew what pleasure truly was — Cecilia’s hands on him.
Whatever the case, it grated against the very fabric of his being to leave her sleeping in her—theirbed, unprotected and unaware.
His stomach soured with every step he took toward the garage, and a cold sweat gathered beneath his helmet. Everything in him rebelled at the idea of leaving his mate. Sloane was well-trained in pushing aside any discomfort or pain to continue a mission, but this was worse than anything he’d experienced before.
It felt like it took hours for him to make it to one of his unmarked cars. It took longer for him to actually start the damn thing.
Nausea rolled through him, but he braced himself and hit the ignition. Protecting her came first. It came before his comfort, certainly, and definitely his own safety.
Sloane knew he was taking a risk when he drove back into San Francisco in the dead of night. He knew how to avoid the web of cameras and surveillance that blanketed the city, but his teamalsoknew every trick he possessed. If they were hunting him, which they almost certainly were, then every system in place would be on alert for him specifically.
It was a risk he had to take.
Luckily The Lush was on the opposite end of the city from the barracks. Stepping into the alley where he’d seen Cecilia for the first time — and hundreds of times since — he didn’t bother checking for cameras above the employee exit. With the kind of business Duke ran, they knew better than to have recording equipment around.
