Chapter Twenty One
Instead of going backto the office, Kavon steered toward home. Darren was uncharacteristically silent, which Kavon appreciated because his own thoughts were spinning. He had always prided himself on not caring what anyone else thought, but he had shaped his entire career based on earning Dave’s approval. He had turned his back on his parents and siblings and thought that made him a man. Sure, he still called on holidays and visited every couple of years, but the tight bonds he’d enjoyed growing up were gone. He’d cut them in a desperate attempt to get away from a life he’d hated. And he’d thought that made him independent and strong.
As they were heading to the elevator, one of their neighbors waved. Before Darren had moved in, none of Kavon’s neighbors even recognized him. Of course, back then Kavon never would have played basketball with them or helped people carry moving boxes. Darren had pulled him out of a self-imposed exile Kavon hadn’t recognized.
Maybe Darren recognized Kavon’s dark mood, because he didn’t say a word as they headed up to their apartment. When Kavon saw their unguarded door—again—a frisson of worry distracted him long enough for Darren to slip his own hand into Kavon’s. Normally Kavon avoided public displays of affection, but no one was around, and the lack of his bull guarding the door left Kavon disquieted. He squeezed back.
Kavon expended enough magic to check his perimeter defenses before reclaiming his hand from Darren so he could unlock the door.
“I was hoping to find the guides here,” Darren said softly, his disappointment echoing Kavon’s. The lack of guides was only one part of his frustration with the day.
“Me too,” Kavon admitted. Had he said that before? Had he even admitted to his lover—his bond mate—that he was afraid? Did Darren want to hear that?
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Darren asked the second he closed the front door.
Kavon headed to the living room couch. “I have no idea,” he admitted. He felt about a hundred years old, and just to prove he wasn’t shutting Darren out, he opened the bond and let all his confusion flow through.
Darren shrugged out of his suit jacket and dropped it onto the kitchen counter before sitting next to Kavon. “Is this about what Angel said? He’s full of shit. You are not some machismo asshole who tears others down.”
Kavon tried hard not damage others, but he wasn’t so sure. He’d gutted Darren by letting him get too close and then pushing him away. And how many agents had they gone through on the team? White had even warned him about not being so rough with the new agents, and Kavon’s solution had been to have Coretta deal with the newbies. Kavon closed his eyes. God help him, and now he had Milton Ackie, an agent who needed gentle handling. They needed Ackie’s skills, but Kavon was going to fuck this up.
“Whoa. What is going on with you?” Darren shifted to sit cross-legged and sideways on the couch. Then he rested both his hands on Kavon’s knee.
Kavon rolled his head to the side and studied Darren. The man had more compassion than anyone Kavon had ever met.
“You said I was lying when I said I didn’t care what people thought about me.”
Darren frowned as if he didn’t remember the conversation in the break room.
“I sure cared what Dave thought. I cared enough that I gave up on my dream and became an FBI agent.”
Darren scooted forward until his knee pressed against Kavon’s thigh. “Dave manipulated an adolescent kid. But that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re a great agent.” Darren’s confidence flowed through the bond like a balm.
“So, was I a great agent when I stepped all over Coretta’s authority and then left her agents in the field?” Kavon asked.
That made Darren’s certainty falter. Yeah, that was what Kavon thought.
“You’re a human being,” Darren said. “Welcome to the human race where fucking up is one of the requirements. We’re all under a lot of pressure, so it’s not like anyone expects perfection.”
The surge of anger caught Kavon off-guard, and for a moment he thought the bond had channeled Darren’s anger toward him. But it hadn’t. No, he was angry at Darren—for forgiving him, for holding it together in the field, for nearly dying, for not calling Kavon an asshole. Kavon wasn’t even sure. Rather than start a fight, Kavon surged off the couch and headed for the bedroom. He slammed the door hard enough to make the wall shiver, and then guilt piled on top of the anger.
Kavon sat on the edge of their bed and he tried to sort his feelings. In the living room, the television played softly. Part of Kavon appreciated the privacy, and another part wanted Darren to storm in and demand answers. Kavon didn’t have time for a nervous breakdown. So what? He’d fucked up the chain of command. He’d done that before and he would again. Dave had tried to send him off on what would have been a suicide attack. Even if Kavon had lived through a direct attack on Anzu on the spirit plane, the monster could have dragged Kavon so far into the deeper wells that Kavon never would have found his way back.
Maybe his soul would have been lost altogether. The dead who stayed on the spirit plane gravitated to one of the three main streams. Lots of shamans thought those were the paths to heaven or hell, or whatever afterlife they believed in. But what would have happened if Kavon had been trapped in one of the other streams? And if Darren hadn’t been there, Kavon might have listened. If it weren’t for the bond that guaranteed that Darren and Kavon’s bull and Bennu would have all been dragged with him, Kavon might have listened to a man who saw him as a tool.
He had rejected the approval of so damn many people. He hadn’t even read most of the evaluations he’d gotten from White. He checked to make sure he was still in good standing, signed the paperwork and threw it in a drawer. What the hell was wrong with him? Kavon sat and stared at nothing.
He had almost reached the point where he had locked down his emotions when the door opened slowly. Darren leaned against the jamb. “Want to talk?”
Kavon said, “No.” He sat in silence, but Darren just waited. “It’s my job to provide solid judgment in the field.”
“Yep,” Darren agreed, “which is why the regs ban you from investigating cases where you have too much invested to stay cool. This case... it’s pushing a lot of buttons. No one will think any less of you for having human emotions.”
“Maybe they should,” Kavon said. “You had even more reason to lose it. Anzu nearly killed you, but you’re the one trying to keep me from charging around like a bull.” Kavon snorted at the appropriateness of that image.
“Ah.” Darren sighed and then inched his way into the room as though expecting Kavon to go off like a bomb. That heaped more guilt onto the pile of emotions Kavon was already trying to process. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve lost it plenty.”
“No. You don’t. When O’Brien had me pinned in that zombie spell, you kept calm when I panicked.” That had been one of the worst moments of Kavon’s life. Dying in the line of duty was a danger he willingly faced, but the threat of having his free will stripped by a manipulative puppeteer was terrifying.
