“Kia,” he says softly. Treating me with kid gloves like he has my entire life. Like I don’t understand how cruel the world can be, when I’ve known since the moment our parents were ripped away from us far too young. I’m just not willing to accept that ithasto be unfair. Not if someone’s willing to fight to even the scales.
“He’s feral. Nobody has ever brought a shifter back from that state,” he says gently, as if I’m not well aware of the odds.
“And nobody has ever seen a myst whose powers work against them before, either, but you didn’t give up on me. So I’m not going to give up fighting for him.”
Leaving my brother’s stunned face behind, I stride out of the room. Vic falls into step behind me, and for once, I accept the comfort of his presence. With Havoc Knight at my back? Nobody is going to touch me.
“Thank goodness,” the man standing in my lobby says. His hair is a mess, like he’s run his fingers through it a hundred times in the last hour. In his hands is a small bundle wrapped in a dark t-shirt. The way it stretches over a large, flat span, I’d guess there’s a fishbowl under there, but I can’t swear to it.
“Why don’t you come on back, and I’ll see what I can do to help.”
He nods, eyeing Havoc uneasily the entire length of the hallway. “Is he a doctor, too?”
“I’m here as her security,” Vic says easily. It does nothing to set the man at ease.
When we stop outside the exam room, he shifts uneasily, gaze darting anxiously to Havoc and away. “I’d rather keep knowledge of his existence a secret if possible. Are yousureyou trust him?”
“Absolutely. But I get your concerns.” I meet Havoc’s gaze over my shoulder. “Can you check on Z? Make sure he gets home okay?.”
His fierce gaze softens at the edges. “I’ll take care of everything, no need to stress.” Grabbing my upper arm, he tugs me in for a hard kiss that has me leaning into his touch. It goes on longer than it should in front of a client, and I reluctantly pull away, giving him a chastising look, knowing exactly what he was doing. Staking a claim.
I’m a little disappointed in myself for how much I love his possessive display.
“Stryker’s right across the hall, so just shout if you need anything,” Havoc says, not so subtly warning the guy before retreating to grab Z.
The man rolls his eyes, and I can’t really blame him. Short of a dick measuring contest, Havoc couldn’t have been more obvious in his intentions. Last thing I want to do is leave my mates alone with my brother, but knowing the conversation waiting for me in there? I'm almost tempted to drag this healing session out the rest of the day just to avoid it.
Washing my hands, I take a second to recenter myself and give my new client my undivided attention. “So, what seems to be the problem?”
“I found the little guy struggling to move, and I’m afraid I got him back into the water too late. It’s been nearly two days, but he isn't perking up. I know their kind are often hunted for their ink, so I'm not sure how to arrange getting him home without someone stealing and selling him, if he can even survive the journey.”
Carefully, he sets his bundle on the exam table and carefully peels the t-shirt off of a small fishbowl, fine mesh netting firmly strapped across the top and rubber banded in place to secure it. The water is cloudy, but there’s no mistaking the tiny, teal octopus frantically zipping around the bowl, searching for a way out.
“Tiny Tim?”
Uneasy, I glance at the man beside me. “Where did you say you found him, again?”
He puts a hand on my shoulder, clamping down hard enough I can’t shake him off. “Sorry about this.”
My stomach drops out from under me as he teleports us out of the room before I can do more than squeak. The journey is brutal; worse than anything Devlin or Havoc have dragged me through. I can’t even draw in a full breath as the world races by me, and when we land? It takes everything I have not to throw up on the pristine, white carpet I’m dropped on.
“Fuck,” I gasp between ragged pants, fingers digging into the fibers of the carpet, my knees burning from impact, “You.”
“Nothing personal sweetheart,” he drawls, plucking my phone from my back pocket while I’m distracted trying to keep my organs inside of my body. “But I’m not stupid enough to piss offthatbastard when he calls for a favor.”
The fishbowl was dropped in the transition, and I hastily flip it upright, preserving as much of the water as possible and scooping Tiny Tim off the ground, easing him back into what’s left of the cold water.
“Who the hell ishe?” I demand, pissed off to entirely new levels.
“Your husband, of course.” He gives me a mocking salute before teleporting out of the room, and I study my surroundings, dread growing with each passing second. A twin sized bed, bookshelf that takes up an entire wall, and an attached bathroom. The entire thing is decked out in mahogany, white, and gold, but the most glaring aspect?
The lack of windows.
Not surprisingly, the second I try the door? The handle doesn’t budge either. Reality slowly wraps a noose around my throat.
Nobody knows where I am. I have no phone. And no matter how deceptively comfortable this room may be, the door is locked tight.
“Well...shit.”
To be continued in Fatal Bonds.
