“I’m staying withyouno matter what, but if they don’t want me working with them, that’s their right.”
The humans exchanged some weighted glances with one another, debating, and then Nathan said, “You can stay, Isaac.”
“He can’t be trusted,” Talon said.
“Yes, he can,” Ira said calmly. “Give him time.”
Talon grumbled.
Isaac smiled. He was grateful they were giving him the chance to prove himself.
Chapter 17
Isaac
For a few days,life was simple. Isaac no longer woke with the dawn and trained at HQ. Because the demons of the Rink were nocturnal, their humans also kept to a more night-focused schedule. Isaac now woke around noon, always with Shadrach wrapped around him like an octopus. More than once, he woke with Shadrach’s hands or mouth on him. Their lazy mornings eventually led them to the Rink, where the Sentinels began integrating him into their routine. Sometimes they worked PI cases for human clients, and at night, they patrolled and hunted demons. None of it paid well—the patrolling paid nothing, in fact—but it gave them a purpose.
The day his new clothes were delivered, he dragged the boxes into the bedroom and opened everything up. Shadrach ordered him more things than he’d owned at his old apartment. He didn’t think this many clothes would have even fit in the closet there. But here, Shadrach had two huge wardrobes and even a walk-in closet. Or at least that’s what he assumed the extra doors in the bedroom were.
But when he went to one of the doors, his arms laden with clean clothes, Shadrach suddenly appeared in front of him.
“What are you doing, killer?”
Isaac blinked in surprise. “Hanging up my stuff? Did you want me to put it somewhere else?”
Shadrach tilted his head curiously, then pointed at another door on the other side of the bed. “That’s the closet.”
Isaac glanced at it, then at the door behind Shadrach. “Then what’s in this one?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with right now.” He curled his fingers around Isaac’s shoulder to guide him away, but Isaac remained rooted to the spot.
“Shadrach,” he said firmly.
“I’m just not sure you’re ready for that.”
Awareness buzzed down his spine. “Ready for what? What’s in there?” An image of chains and blood danced behind his eyes. Was this where Shadrach hid the bodies? Was this where he’d planned to bring Sloan or Maxwell, if Isaac had given him permission to grab them?
Lips descended on his, and deft hands dragged the pile of clothing from his arms and tossed them carelessly to the bed with the rest. Isaac opened his mouth, indulging in the taste of Shadrach’s coffee and tobacco flavor.
“I don’t think it’s quite as grim as you’re imagining, but I like where your head is at,” Shadrach purred. “I’ll show you, on one condition.”
There was nothing he would deny Shadrach. The perfect clarity of the realization hit him like a bat to the stomach, stalling his breath.
“What condition?” he croaked.
Shadrach gave him a predatory smile. “You let me use something on you. Maybe a few somethings.”
Isaac opened his mouth to ask more questions—would he like it, would it hurt, would he stop if Isaac hated it—but he already knew the answers. He trusted Shadrach implicitly, and those questions weren’t needed.
“Okay.”
Shadrach reached behind him and opened the door, then stepped aside for Isaac to enter.
The room was far different than the warm tones of the rest of the apartment. The walls were painted black, and the lights were sparse. Around the room, there were various contraptions with metal and padding. In some places around the room, ropes hung from the ceiling. Mirrors lined one wall, and a black, wooden chest stood up against it.
“What… is all this?”
Shadrach curled around him, the bulge in his trousers fitting against Isaac’s bottom. He caught a glimpse of their figures in the mirror, the stark lines of their bodies pressed together. Shadrach wore a shark-like grin, his nose grazing Isaac’s ear.
