“Color of souls?” Ewen forced his eyes open a crack. “What color is mine?”
“Silver shot through with gold.” Lamont’s voice was warm, and Ewen felt it washing over him like a hug. “It’s beautiful, just like you and your fox.”
Ewen’s last coherent thought before sleep claimed him was that he’d never heard anything sound so much like home. Or it might’ve been just Lamont’s affectionate tones that were making him feel good.
Chapter Seven
Lamont watched Ewen’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. His mate’s face had finally relaxed, the pinched lines around his eyes smoothing out. Even in sleep, though, Ewen’s fingers clutched at the blanket like he feared it might disappear.
Like he fears I might disappear.
The thought twisted something sharp in Lamont’s gut. From the day he’d arrived on Earth, he’d walked his path alone, never really lonely as such because he’d never known what he was missing. But Ewen - Ewen had recognized him immediately. He had felt the bond snap into place and then watched Lamont walk away.
No, not walk away. Stand there and do nothing while two men dragged him off.
I genuinely thought he was going willingly.
Lamont scrubbed his hand over his face. He’d been so focused on Lord Hades’s summons, on the urgency in his master’s voice, that he hadn’t questioned why every instinct screamed at him to follow that sweet-faced journalist. Hellhounds didn’t ignore their instincts. It was what had kept them alive for millennia.
But he had. Because Lord Hades called, and no one with an ounce of sense ignored the ruler of the Underworld.
Lord Hades wouldn’t have separated mates. Lamont knew that with absolute certainty. The god was devoted to Ali - he would burn the world down for his chipmunk shifter mate and offer Consort Ali marshmallows on a stick to cook among the embers. If Lamont had known, if he’d just said the words – “that’s my mate, my Lord” - everything would have been different.
Instead, Ewen spent ten days in hell. Literally starved and tortured, while mating sickness ate away at his fox.
Lamont’s hound rumbled unhappily in his chest, equally disturbed.
He shifted position, easing an ache in his hip, being careful not to jostle the bed. Ewen didn’t stir, too deeply asleep after days of deprivation. His black hair stuck up in damp spikes, and the bruising on his face had already started to fade. His shifter healing was accelerating now that they were together.
Together.The word felt strange, foreign after so long. Yes, Lamont had lived in a pack, but he was lucky if he saw any one of his packmates more than once or twice a year since he lived on Earth. Now he had someone who was his. Someone he was responsible for protecting. Someone he’d already failed.
Fuck, when my packmates hear about this, they’re going to tear me a new one…or laugh at me.
His thoughts circled back to the investigation Ewen had been working on. Defense contracts, Louise had said. Shell companies and falsified documents. A story big enough that Ewen had used vacation time and paid his own way to Egypt to avoid The Times knowing where he was.
Had Ewen really come to Egypt just to get away? That didn’t quite add up. Journalists didn’t travel halfway across the world on vacation when they were in the middle of breaking a major story. They followed leads and chased sources to the detriment of everything else, including the basics like eating and sleeping.
Unless…
Unless Ewen had already been compromised. Perhaps he already knew he was being followed in New York and thought distance would buy him time.
Lamont frowned, wondering how long Ewen’s situation had been going on. Days? Weeks? Months?
His mind replayed the scene at the textile factory. The shouting, the black fox scampering, using the last of his strength to get to him. The woman in the business suit and her six guards – that hadn’t been a random collaboration. Lamont had grabbed Ewen and run out the door before translocating, making sure they were out of sight before he did it.
But they’d still disappeared. The guards would have chased them outside, but they wouldn’t have found anything except empty sand and abandoned buildings.
That could raise some questions. The kind of questions that could attract the notice of beings like the shifter or the paranormal council. If the guards and their boss talked…
There are too many unknowns.
Lamont’s jaw clenched. He thought about contacting Coda again – ask him if he could scrub any satellite or security camera footage from the area.
Although, that could be overkill as well, and draw attention to a scene that was better left alone. The area looked pretty deserted, and Lamont hadn’t seen any security equipment. The guards and the woman, were too busy trying to catch a fox to pull out their phones and record anything. Lamont’s face had been covered…the guards might not have even realized the fox and their captive were the same person…It’s a pretty ludicrous idea if someone didn’t know about shifters and most people don’t.Lamont’s shoulders relaxed.We could be all right.
Ewen shifted slightly, a small sound escaping his throat. Lamont immediately stilled, watching as his mate’s face scrunched up. He was probably having a bad dream. After what he’d been through, nightmares were inevitable.
“Shh,” Lamont murmured, letting his hand rest gently on Ewen’s shoulder through the blanket. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
