“Because you shouldn’t stay in a room where you were assaulted.” Whichello said it like it was obvious, like Isaac’s comfort mattered in some equation that Isaac couldn’t figure out. “I’m offering you a choice. Stay here with guards posted or move to the east wing where you’ll have more space and better security.”
Better security meaning Whichello. Instinct said to take advantage of the offer. Sanity said proceed at his own risk. Isaac could practically hear the hammer cocking.
“I need your word, Isaac. I can’t protect you if you keep trying to escape.”
Choice. Not dominance. Not ownership. Dependency. Protection with conditions. The kind of offer that changed the shape of the cage instead of removing it.
Even knowing this, Isaac’s mind turned over the reality of his situation. What did he have to run back to? A crappy apartment he could no longer afford. A dead-end job at the grocery store where his boss was moments away from getting slugged in the mouth. A father who’d sold him without a second thought. The only person who would miss him was Danny, but his best friend had Ash now, a mate who would protect him and love him the way Danny deserved.
Isaac had nothing. No one except a best friend who was building a life that didn’t have room for Isaac’s chaos.
“If I stay,” he heard himself say, “how do I know this won’t happen again?”
Whichello met his eyes, and for once those gray depths held something Isaac recognized. Sincerity? Maybe. Or at least the demon equivalent. “I’m not going to lie. Dimitri isn’t surviving the night. He hurt you, and I will violently end anyone who threatens your safety, little panda,” he stated with quiet but fierce conviction.
The promise was cold and focused and terrifyingly sincere. Isaac studied Whichello, noticing the exhaustion around his eyes, tension in the set of his jaw.
“Your word.” Isaac wanted something solid in a world that kept dissolving under him. “You swear it?”
“Harder than I’ve ever sworn anything in my long-ass life.” Whichello placed one hand over his heart in a gesture that appeared almost formal and completely ridiculous. “You are under my protection, Isaac. That means something to me, and I don’t give my protection lightly.”
Isaac wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to believe he could stop running and fighting. He hadn’t exhaled in years and would give anything for five uninterrupted minutes of air.
Whichello’s face tightened with suspicion, as if bracing for a string of obscenities rather than agreement. After all, Isaac had escaped before. Twice, if you counted getting lost in a creepy passageway.
But for all his faults, Isaac had never broken a promise once given.
“I’ll stay.” He sighed from the depths of his soul. It was a calculated risk taken by someone who knew exactly what promises cost, yet he was giving one anyway. “You have my word.”
Chapter Four
After settling Isaac in his new quarters, Whichello stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He was not going to survive this if one more person tried to harm the panda. Whichello couldn’t get the image of Dimitri’s vile act out of his head, how he’d pinned someone so small beneath him. Isaac couldn’t be taller than five feet. The shifter had no idea what holding back had cost Whichello, the restraint it had taken not to end Dimitri after yanking the bastard off Isaac.
Keeping a soft little panda in a castle full of demons was a very dangerous thing. But after Whichello discovered Isaac had nearly been killed trying save his human friend, all bets were off, freedom revoked.
Crimson Hollow should consider itself lucky Whichello hadn’t shown up to collect Isaac. He would’ve buried that town in ten feet of ice.Fuck me sideways. Isaac could’ve died, and Whichello wouldn’t have been there to save him.
The thought sent ice shooting through his veins.
Demons had no clue who their mate was until they had sex with them, but a certainty deep in his gut shouted Isaac was his. And he’d nearly lost the panda before…what? He locked the guy in a room to be assaulted by the very guard entrusted to keep him safe? The plan to lock Isaac somewhere escape-proof had backfired spectacularly. Dimitri had a death with date, and Whichello would ensure he suffered before he became an ice sculpture.
“Your soft spot for gorgeous men is going to be your downfall,” Azariah said as he approached. “Thinking of taking on another consort?”
It hadn’t even crossed Whichello’s mind, and he wasn’t thrilled at the reminder either. “You’d do well to mind your own business, brother. I’m in no mood for your bullshit.”
“Hmm,” Azariah huffed. “You kind of made it everyone’s business when you brought prey into a castle full of predators. What did you think would happen? Most of these demons don’t have an ounce of integrity in their bodies, yet you ordered your men to not only kidnap the cinnamon roll but bring him into a vipers’ nest.”
Whichello’s gaze narrowed. “What exactly are you implying, Azariah?”
Rage coiled low in Whichello’s gut, but he kept his expression smooth as glass. Azariah wanted a reaction, wanted him to snap and prove something about bringing Isaac here. He probably already had a speech prepared about poor judgment and emotional weakness.
Not happening. Not with Isaac’s door barely ten feet away.
“I’m implying nothing.” Azariah’s mouth curved, but the expression held all the warmth of a January grave. “Just making an observation about how quickly you moved to retrieve your little acquisition. Some might wonder why.”
Some. Meaning Azariah himself, fishing for confirmation of whatever theory he’d already decided was true.
Whichello forcibly unclenched his jaw. His brother thrived on this particular brand of needling, the kind that wore you down until you either exploded or gave something away. Fourteen hundred years and Azariah still played the same games.
