Over the years, I’d perfected a balance of calculated detachment and quiet amusement, like I was always one step ahead, but just chillin’ while everyone else was flailing. I was the guy who didn’t need to prove himself because I already knew exactly what I was capable of.
That persona had kept me alive in a world where showing weakness meant becoming prey. It had earned me Arabesque’s trust, to the extent she trusted anyone. It had given me access to information that might help bring her down. But it had also required me to stand by while she destroyed lives, to participate in acts that left stains on my soul I wasn’t sure would ever wash out.
Austin’s death was just the latest in a long line, but somehow, it hit differently. Maybe because I’d watched him for weeks, cataloging his habits, his quirks. The way he’d hum under his breath when he thought no one was listening. The genuine smile he’d flashed at Seri when he helped her with her suitcases the day she’d left.
I just kept thinking,He was a kid trying to escape darkness, only to be consumed by it, anyway.
I pulled over again, this time at a small overlook with a view of rolling farmland stretching toward distant woods. The morning had fully arrived now, warm spring sunlight coating everything in deceptive serenity. I got out of the truck, needing air that wasn’t tainted with the scent of death.
How much longer can I keep playing this game before the toll gets too high?
Still. If all I could do in this whole mess was prevent another Austin Cho, I’d do it. Maybe save those pups and Dominic in the process. It wasn’t redemption. I wasn’t naive enough to believe in that. Still, it wassomething. A reminder that even in this grim world of witches and demons and political machinations, choices still mattered.
And miracle of miracles, Greisen agreed.
It was the first clear sentiment I’d felt from my wolf in twelve long years. He didn’t give me words, just a steady pressure against my consciousness. A sense of purpose.
The feeling nearly knocked me on my heavy ass.
“Glad you’re still in there, buddy,” I whispered, laying a shaking hand on the hood of my truck before I reallydidfall over in shock.
He didn’t respond, and I didn’t expect him to. He’d given me what he could, and that was enough for now.
Swallowing down a knot of emotion, I got in the truck and headed back toward the Bell homestead. I had a heart to burn and plans to make.
32. Flecks Of Starlight
Zane
The fifth time Seri refilled Casimir’s coffee before he’d taken two sips, I contemplated fratricide.
Not for the usual reasons. Okay, maybeten percentfor the usual reasons. Mostly, though, because our girl hadn’t so much as glanced at my empty mug since Mr. Tall-Blond-And-Traumatized woke up from his horror-induced beauty coma.
“Drink,” Seri ordered Casimir.
Her honey-gold curls caught the morning sun streaming through the bay windows, haloed like some avenging angel of overprotectiveness. Cas’ eyelashes fluttered. Not the creepy kind, just his standard “I’m humoring you” blink. His fingers brushed the steaming mug she’d commandeered from my place setting.
Again.
You could ask how he’sreallydoing, I thought.
With a sigh of sacrifice, I nudged the mental shield Cas maintained tighter than Seri’s grip on my dick last night and caught flickers. Koa’s eyes clouding over in death. Me giving one final gasp. Seri’s blood spilling down her shirt. Then he slammed the door in my face. Telepathic equivalent of a “No Entry” sign.
Rude, much?
Brumster chose that moment to raise his front paws onto the table, his improved weight nearly tipping it and his paws skidding across Cas’ buttered toast.
“Brummy, no!” Seri lunged, but pup had priorities.
His nose twitched toward Cas’ plate with the single-minded determination of a furry guided missile.
“Bad boy!” I grabbed his scruff. His breath smelled like a dumpster fire marinated in sardines. “Cas, back me up here! Your dire wolf’s committing breakfast treason!”
“Ourdire wolf,” Cas corrected, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Progress. Three days ago, he couldn’t string three words together without breaking out in sweat colder than a witch’s tit.
Notyourwitchy tits, Seri,I offered in silent apology.Yours are always warm and squishy.
