His smile widens. “You don’t need to worry about that, pet. Now, you’re going to stay here and behave, aren’t you?” He darts forward, his hands on either side of my jaw, forcing my neck to nod. He’s impossibly strong and it makes me want to desperately cringe back away from his touch.
“Good. That’s good,” he continues. “Better keep you here for a while, where you’re safe, pet. Until I’m ready for you.”
That’s not ominous at all.
29
Roscoe
Two days, that’s how long Silver’s been gone.
And I’m unraveling. Holy shit am I unraveling.
Have been ever since I came to after she was taken and it’s not getting better.
We’re cooped up in Dante’s apartment, planning our rescue mission. Just like we have been for the past—I check the time—twelvehours. I’m about to go out of my skull with frustration. I need to get to her. To scoop her up against my chest and then find us a ride out of the city.
We’ll go someplace that’s quiet. Or maybe we’ll go somewhere louder and we can disappear in the crowd. I don’t know. Don’t care. Just need Silver with me wherever we go.
Zeph paces the length of Dante’s apartment, wearing a hole in the carpet. He looks like a caged beast, about to snap and snarl and take anyone’s head off that’s dumb enough to engage.
The only time he’s taken a break from pacing was to disappear for an hour. He then returned with a massive suitcase filled with old books which he’d apparently stolen from Victor Blackthorn’s place. Thankfully, the vamp was nowhere to be seen and his house looked like no one had been there in weeks.
At least we don’t have to worry about Z getting arrested too. One of our people trapped in a cell is plenty to deal with.
“We’re gonna get her out of there, man,” I tell him.
He growls. Actually fuckinggrowlsat me and I step back. He’s in full unhinged beast boy mode and I value my fingers too much for him to snap them off. I need to touch Silver when we get her back and that’ll be tricky if my hands are broken.
I slump back on the couch and tip my head to the ceiling.
“Are you going to put a shirt on anytime soon?” Dante asks me.
“I got hot,” I tell him. It keeps happening. I get these hot flashes whenever I think about SIlver’s face as she was taken, or how she’s locked up right now and we have no way of knowing how she is.
The only positive about this whole fucking nightmare is that I’ve heard from Anna, the techno mage. After seeing the absolute carnage down by the riverside, she’s agreed to provide whatever help she can. Which is something, at least.
Not entirely sure what we can do with a techno mage, but she insisted she had some ideas of her own and to let me know whenever we needed her.
I’m getting hot again just thinking about it. Next I’ll be all sweaty and panicked and I might have to resort to taking my pants off, even though Dante and Fabian keep complaining when I do.
Dante risks slapping Z on the shoulder and, surprisingly, comes away with his hand intact. He murmurs something too quietly for me to hear and Zeph nods and lowers himself to sitting on an armchair. His legs are stiff and he keeps his hands bunched into fists, but at least he’s not pacing.
Weird how Dante is now the Z whisperer. He’s somehow keeping his cool better than any of the rest of us.
