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But it didn’t change what had been done.
His eyes close, and his breathing gets shallow. I can feel the pain in the bond before he fights it off and comes back.
“They’re happening more frequently,” I say, noting out loud the obvious none of us has been able to say.
Mael swallows hard. “Yes,” he rasps. “It's being back here.”
“We need to get this job done and get out of here,” I murmur and brush his hair back from his face. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mael, not again.”
It’s a promise I mean to keep. The person who did this to him is still out there.
But he won’t be for long.
I help Mael up and move him into the bedroom we’ve set up. With a gentleness that leaves the room feeling brittle, I pull off his clothes and help him into bed.
“I’ll stay up and watch.”
Mael makes a halfhearted protest, but we both know that if I go to sleep, too, he will wake up ready to kill. I sit in the chair beside the bed and pull out my phone, scrollingthrough the assortment of apps and chat rooms, looking for any information that could lead us back to the guy who destroyed Mael.
The mysterious and deadly Crimson Tiger. He got his name from the deep furrows he leaves in the skin of his victims, similar to a tiger’s stripes. He’s developed a cult following with people who not only follow his orders like they are gospel but protect him with an insane dedication. No one knows the identity of the Tiger. His name is protected by threat of certain death.
The last rumours we heard were that he’s here, in this territory. We’ve worked for long years to find that piece of information. Now, we’re here.
I won’t have this asshole living, breathing a moment longer.
Not in my neighbourhood.
The night passes slowly. I end up getting up and organising the shirts in colour order, then organising the cupboards, making sure everything is lined up. It’s nights like this when fighting my compulsions are almost impossible.
Kingston returns and, with a dissatisfied grunt, crawls into bed, covering Mael with his body.
“Sleep now, Edric,” his command beats and crushes the compulsion to clean, and I fall into bed, exhausted and frustrated. Still, I lie awake, waiting for the gold light of day.
Kingston’s demon cat slinks in not long after and curls up on the pillow, golden eyes glowering around the room in a sinister watch. Almost as deadly as my own. We are the silent sentinels, keeping watch into the night.
When the sun rises, Mael slips into an easier sleep, and I’m able to join them to find my own nightmares.
I bounce out ofbed, anxious to get this day started. The sun is shining and whatever tension and stress filled the house last night is mostly gone, hidden in the shadows.
“Good morning, wonderful pack!” I say with a malicious smile because, truly, there is something deeply satisfying about seeing my pack so miserable first thing in the morning.
Kingston glowers at me. Mael ignores me, but Shade, the stunning little demon in feline form, stands on his back paws and stretches up for a hug. I pick him up and swing him around before helping him climb up Kingston’s shoulder.
Kingston shouts as tiny cat daggers puncture his shoulder.
“Your ability to bounce out of bed with such good humour is sickening,” Kingston growls. He needs coffee to become his happy self. “Show some humility and pride in being part of Pack Dread. We don’t do happy.”
I spin to the window and duck down, staring out of it. I had a long time alone to plan for how to tackle this issue, and I’m eager to get it underway.
There is no sign of her, though, but I can hear music coming from her house.
“How is our target today?”
“She threw a carton of off milk at me,” Kingston says. “Last time I take her muffins for breakfast.”
I bite my lower lip so I don’t laugh and trigger Kingston’s nasty temper.
She walks out of her house, and, I swear, the world shrinks down to just her. Today she’s wearing a pair of bike shorts and an off the shoulder t-shirt. My eyes catch on her ass and stay there before I can recall myself. I watch as she goes and fetches a suspicious-looking ladder.