Chapter 20
Raiden
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My eyes are damn nearbleeding, but even my blurring vision isn’t enough to call it a night yet. Not now that Amara’s begun starring in my nightmares. Sleep has never been much of a reprieve for me, but it never felt so much like a punishment until I met her.
Whenever I close my eyes, my countless mistakes play on a loop to torment me. Corpse after bloody corpse, the faces of those that I failed to protect haunt me, their bodies morphing into Stone, Kodiak, and Amara. Her wide, unseeing eyes staring up at a stormy sky, the once bright gold dimming until the only light in my life is snuffed out.
I can’t sleep. Not until I eviscerate the man that dares to threaten what’s mine.
No matter how hard we attempt to masquerade as normal, with demons prowling beneath our skin, shifters carry an animalistic darkness that’s impossible to ever completely conceal. Stone may be a wealth of information on the subject, but this is one thing he’ll never be able to fully understand. There isn’t a human soul left in his body, he’s simply a demon stuck wearing a different face.
The others don’t know how fortunate they are; the wolves and foxes, bears and vultures. Every shifter that can shed their skin and blend in, to actuallylive.Everyone wants the power of a dragon, but doesn’t realize that we’d give it up in an instant for the freedom to fly without being hunted simply for existing.
“Where are you?” I murmur, flipping through screen after screen on my computer.
Millions of Malcolms, hundreds of thousands with blonde hair and green eyes. Cross referencing the family trees that Stone and I put together in our initial search of Amara, I scour the internet, but there are endless possibilities. Shifters change their identities whenever necessary, and plenty never make it into an official system at all. Some races age slower, others look like they’ve never seen a day past twenty-five, and some can’t keep their instincts suppressed well enough to integrate with human society and constantly keep on the move. Without more to go on, the best I can think of is to buy stock in ink and then print off half a million photos for Amara to leaf through.
We’re going to have to wait for him to escalate, to give me a lead I can follow to narrow down some of the possibilities.
A quiet knock at the door has me jerking my attention away from the monitor, only to find Amara standing in the doorway to my stolen office in a pair of galaxy-patterned pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt that highlights her golden skin. Much more skin than I’m used to seeing, no gloves in sight, and it has my brain screeching to a halt. It’s a t-shirt, yet she may as well be topless.
Arms. She’s showing herarms. Calm the hell down before you do something stupid.
But no matter how many times I remind myself that I’m overtired and being ridiculous, it doesn’t stop me from imagining stripping her down and laying her out across the desk, to lavish every scar on her body and replace the memories that torment my beautiful mate. To shatter the distance Amara insists on keeping between us, to have her begging for my touch.
For now, I settle for subtly adjusting myself and remain seated so I don’t scare her off. She’s choosing to trust us, stripped off her prime layer of defense that she clings to as a means of keeping the world at bay. There’s a known risk sleeping not twenty feet away, but you’d only know how much the effort cost her by her tight grip on the doorframe, and the tension lines beside her eyes. Still, she’s trying. For us.
I have to find this bastard, and gift her his head. Only then will I be worthy to call myself her mate.
Releasing her stranglehold on the doorframe, she searches for something to do with her hands, eventually ending up crossing her arms. “Do youeversleep? I’ve been here over a week, and don’t think I’ve seen you close your eyes for more than five minutes.”
“I’m used to it; a side effect of my time in the army I never grew out of. It worked out well since there’s always some fire or another I need to put out at work.”
“Is it actually work that’s keeping you awake at night, or do you need work to keep you from sleeping?”
It’s easy to forget with as young as she is, and as sheltered as she’s been, that she’s faced more of the horrors in the world than most. My time with Kodiak and Stone may have aged me in dog years, but Amara’s time under Malcolm’s thumb aged her at hyper speed.
“Honestly? Both.”
She gives me a sad smile, seeing far too much, yet doesn’t press for any more information. “I was on my way to grab a drink. Want me to throw a pot of coffee on while I'm there?”
Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, my palm scrapes across an embarrassing amount of stubble. “Coffee would be great, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
Adding a few more things to my notes, she returns just as I’m minimizing the tab, setting a mug in front of me. “Thank you.”
Waving me off, she takes a drink of water. “Least I could do after how much you guys spent replacing my stuff and feeding me.” After an awkward pause, she adds, “Well, I'll leave you to it.”
