The mating bond hummed beneath Reaper’s skin, a steady pulse of warmth—Cian’s presence, distant but there and waiting for him to come home. They’d made it. Somehow, against all fucking odds, they’d made it. He closed his eyes, just for a second, and let the buzz of sending a wave of feelings toward his Grá Croí drown out everything else.
We’re coming home.
He was really starting to love the feeling he got when a helo’s landing skids touched down on the field they used for training at Trace’s property. Disappointment flooded in when neither his Grá Croí nor Viper’s came to meet them. His muscles ached. He’d debriefed so much that he didn’t want to talk to anyone for a month, unless they came with ice cream and Jack to soothe his aching throat. He wanted his man, his bed, and at least four days straight of sleep, period.
But just from the feel of the house, he knew Cian wasn’t here.
“Hey, Trace, do you have some shit set up that blocks the bond here?”
“Nope.”
Damn. Then he’s not here.
“Fucking perfect,”he muttered. “I thought he was the one supposed to hunt me down, not the other way around.”
“I can’t wait for a decent shower.” Zero stuffed his ruck into the chute that would take it to the gear room, next to the kitchen. “And sleep, and food, and Kaze to come home.”
Same, bro, same. But I have a wayward mate to find, before any of that shit can happen.
Reaper ripped off his boots and tossed them into the chute after the rucks, went through the Murphy door, and down the stairs. He bypassed the kitchen and headed for his and Cian’s room. Funny how fast it had changed from just his to theirs when he wasn’t looking.
“Ward and Cian aren’t here.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He paused with his hand on the bedroom door and glanced over his shoulder at Viper, who handed him a folded note. Reaper snatched it, unfolding it.
Gone to T.N.G. with C.
W
Guess I know where the hunt begins.
Viper followed him into his room. “I’ll head to the Fianna Door, see if anyone’s there to let us through. You coming?”
Reaper stripped off his shirt, peeled the bandage on his arm back, and peered at it. The wound looked clean, but damn it hurt like a bitch. “Yeah. Just need to clean this up, and I need another shower. I’m still itching from the ick of Kaze’s blood.”
Viper hesitated, his gaze sharp. “Want me to wait?”
“Go.” He could see that Viper was itching to find his man and start their reunion. “Tell Cian, I’ll be there in ten.”
After the fastest shower he’d ever had when returning from a mission, he pulled on clean clothes and a pair of shitkickers. Viper hadn’t come back, so he figured there had to be a way through the Fianna door, or someone had been there to let him through.
The moment his boots hit the trail, he turned toward the Dolmen and took off in a fast jog.
Ready or not, here I come.
He sent the teasing snark down the mate bond, but wasn’t sure if it would work when he wasn’t fully concentrating.
He slowed as he approached the Dolmen. The wound on his arm throbbed a little, but he was taking a wild-ass guess that Cian was gonna be pissed.
You would be, too, if he was the one with an ouchie.
Out of the corner of his eye, a shape detached itself from the shadows and stepped into the clearing. Anticipation of seeing his Grá Croí crashed and burned in an instant, and Reaper’s body locked up, every muscle coiling tight as recognition hit him like a gut punch.
Derek.
The asshole.
Fuck.
