Page 10

A fter Blue’s apologetic text, letting me know he’s tied up with his personal situation, I feel like I’m at a loose end. I’d woken from my nap and seen the message, but I knew that whatever was going on was important. It wasn’t my place to interfere, not yet. Not when I wanted so badly for him to trust me and let me in himself.

Forcing myself to stay in the apartment and not seek him out was making me restless. It felt like there were ants crawling beneath my skin. I’d been an Intelligence Analyst for years. I was used to being focused and dedicated, but four days in Blue’s bed had shot that all to pieces. He was like a drug, and I was an addict desperate for my next hit.

In the evening, I sit out on my balcony for a while with my laptop, trying to do some extra research on The Warren. The weather was already milder than when I’d first arrived, or perhaps I was acclimatizing as I left my coat and wore only my hoodie, a cup of steaming coffee on the table next to my laptop.

Combing through forums on the deep dark web, I eventually come across what I’m looking for. Stories, mostly half buried, that make the hair on my arms rise. Tales of imprisonment, forced breeding and child slavery. Secret whisperings of a cult.

With each thread I find, life at The Warren starts unraveling, and I wonder what kind of childhood Blue had. What had happened to him that made him choose this life? Humans were naturally social creatures, even if our shifter species might not be. No one would choose to live on the run, having nowhere to call home, or people to trust, but that’s what he’s been doing for the last three years.

I wonder if his emergency is related to those ‘bad influences’ Abiel had been worried about. A small part of me hopes that the people who got him out of there had at least stuck around to make sure he was safe. I hate the idea of him being out in the world alone, scared without anyone to look out for him.

“Something on your mind, boy?” Mr. Jones, my next-door neighbor, asks as he steps out onto his balcony to water his plants. I’d learned it was part of his nightly ritual when I’d first moved in. “You’ve been sitting out here a while.”

He’s an older gentleman, with white wispy hair, and pale blue eyes. He’s smaller than me and hunches a little, but his broad shoulders tell me he was probably the same height as me once upon a time.

I snort at his words. I’m hardly a boy—I was in my mid-thirties, Although, I was acting like a horny teenager, the way I was desperate to head over to Blue’s cabin and fuck him senseless. Goddess, you’d swear I’d never had sex before the way he was constantly on my mind.

“I also noticed you haven’t been home for a few days, and a certain white head beauty also hasn’t been spotted for a while.” Mr. Jones looks at me over the top of his glasses, eye twinkling as he lifts his watering to the plant pots hanging near the door. “You best not hurt our Blue. That one has been through enough.”

How did he know about Blue’s life before he came to Aurora Pines? The man was sealed tighter than that supposed vault he had. He wasn’t the type to share his feelings openly either. Did Blue know that he had people looking out for him in this town? People who genuinely cared about him. How could I let Abiel ruin that?

“I won’t,” I promise. The words are mostly true. I don’t want to hurt him. I want to keep him safe. To love him. To make him happy. But when he finds out who I am and what I’ve been doing, hurting him might be inevitable.

“Good. Good.” The old man nods. “Now, off to bed with you or you’ll catch a chill.”

Chuckling, I move inside, but thanks to my earlier nap, I wasn’t ready to sleep. I just got the impression you didn’t say no to Mr. Jones.

Gathering up the threads I found, I send them across to Jason, hoping that he can put a little pressure on them, tugging at them until the tapestry comes loose and begins to unweave.

Perhaps if the High Leap and The Husk had other things occupying their attention and time, they’ll leave my mate alone. They might stop their search for him and if not, well then, we’ll have to get our hands a little dirtier than I’d like.

At the bottom of my email, I include a blog I found on a small website with barely any subscribers. It had caught my attention, because it speculated that The Ghost was now active in the US, linking together several small-scale robberies that had taken place over the last couple of years. At first, I dismissed it, because the thief always took items besides diamonds, but then I saw something about white fur being found at one of the sites, and the neighbors seeing a small white hare in their garden, believing it to be a spirit at first. The last robbery had taken place just a few hours away from here, but I remind myself that I’m no longer part of that world. I may be off the case, but Jason might find something of use.

I don’t know if it’s Mr. Jones’s words or just the fact that I finally sat with the knowledge that I had found my Fated Mate, but I knew that my job with Abiel was done. I couldn’t work for that man, no matter what pressure he tried to put on me or what carrot he dangled. There were always alternative ways to make money. I wouldn’t sell my soul to his cult.

Emailing Finn, I let him know that I’m going to have to return The Warren’s money, but I reassure him that everything was fine because I still had some savings put aside for a rainy day. I just wanted to prepare him that the next couple of months might be tighter than normal so that they weren’t side swiped by it. I knew my brothers would pull together and make sure above all else my mother was cared for, at least until I landed the next job. It was just a way to give me breathing space and allow me to focus on my new relationship and cutting ties with The Warren.

When I’m finally done getting my ducks in a row, as they say, even though mine were more like feral pigeons, I realize it’s 2 am and reluctantly call it a night. Laying in the dark, in my cold sheets, I hope that this is one of the last nights I stay alone.

The time we spent apart continued to convince me that he was my mate. Every part of me longed to be with him.

A few times today I had caught flashes of my shifter side emerging—my eyes changing in the reflection of the window, a snarling noise creeping up my throat, my nails lengthening and twisting into claws before I stopped it and forced the change back.

My fox was eager to claim his mate, and it was driving him wild, knowing that he was only out by the lake. That was within running distance to him. Soon, I tell him, trying to soothe his impatience. Soon he’ll be ours.

*****

W hen I wake, the strange ache in my chest is stronger, making me nauseous. There’s a good morning text from Blue, which has me grinning like an idiot as I pour my morning coffee and wolf down some toast. Ignoring my emails and the missed calls from my brothers, I go for a run in the woods. Careful to stay away from the lake and the temptation of my mate, I shift and distract my inner beast until there’s some semblance of calm in my soul.

Once I’m back at the apartment, I shower and dress. It’s almost lunchtime, which means Blue might be back at The Antler today, if his situation with his friend is resolved. Walking into town, I continue to ignore the buzzing of my phone, since Abiel was desperately trying to reach me once again. I’d prepared the funds to be transferred back to him. I was just waiting for the right moment to cut ties.

Pushing open the doors of the bar, I catch sight of Blue, my mate, sitting near a window towards the back. His face is lit up with natural light, making his silver white hair appear even more ethereal as he leans back into his chair and chews on his thumb, staring out into the street.

I don’t like the way his brows are furrowed together, or how his shoulders are practically up by his ears. If I was close enough to scent him, I’m sure I’d be picking up signs of stress. At least with him in my line of sight, the strange pressure in my chest eases somewhat. I can’t see who he’s sat with, only the back of their head. I can’t even tell what gender the person is because their hair is long and dark with an inky hue, giving nothing away.

Waiting for a moment to see if Blue notices me, I head to the bar. Ordering what’s become my regular and taking a seat in my usual spot, I settle in to wait, but he’s engrossed in the conversation.

It doesn’t take long for Ciro to spot me and narrow in like a heat-seeking missile. I liked the young man. He was curious and friendly, but clearly looking for love in all the wrong places to avoid the giant crush he had on his much older boss. Besides, my heart and my body belonged to someone else, and Ciro was far too young for me. He might be close to Blue’s age, but in terms of personality and temperament, Blue had a maturity that Ciro hadn’t yet found. Still, I admired him for shooting his shot every time I came in here.

“Have you seen the new man around town, the one with the dark hair and the dark eyes?” My ears prick up. Placing my drink down on the table, he leans in to whisper behind his hand as if he has any hope of being discreet with the way his voice carries. “He looks like a fugly left shoe.”

“A what ? Never mind.” Narrowing my eyes over at Blue’s table, I ask, “Do you mean the one sitting with Blue?”

“No, not him. He’s gorgeous .” Tittering, Ciro waves his hand before standing with his hand on his hips, the round serving tray tucked under his arm. “There was someone asking around for you earlier at the store.”

Ahhh. I bet Nerys had already been in to collect her lunch order like usual, paying with crumpled notes and gossip.

Someone was asking for me? Only my family and Jason knew I was in Aurora Pines. I hadn’t told anyone else, not even Abiel, who was technically paying me to be here. Emphasis on the ‘was’ since I would be returning the money and terminating that relationship as soon as Jason got back to me.

Could he have sent someone else? He was impatient, but was he foolish enough to risk Blue realizing someone was looking for him and bolting again? Just what had Blue stolen and was there a way I could convince him to return it? It might be the only way to put an end to this farce and buy his freedom.

Burt, a lumberjack who I’d chatted with a handful of times, is sitting on the next table over with someone I think is called Jaxs or Jackson. He coughs, clearing his throat before he grumbles, “Suspicious. Didn’t like the look of him.”

A few other people nearby nod, and it makes my scalp prickle. There was a newcomer in town riling up the locals, and they were asking after me? Digging out my phone, I scroll through the missed calls and messages. Only eight from my brothers, but twenty-one from Abiel and a handful of messages along the lines of ‘CALL ME. I WARNED YOU.’

This wasn’t a good sign.

Pulling out a stool and placing his elbows on the table, Ciro takes a seat, resting his chin on his hands. “They said they’d been to your apartment but you weren’t in, so Mr. Smith, where were you last night?”

A few people snicker, and I can feel their eyes burning into me. Was nothing a secret in this town? I recognize one or two of them from the grocery store along with Betsy, the local inn owner, along with Mike, who runs the garage and Miss Katrin, the florist. When had I started integrating myself with the locals?

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease, trying not to act like anything is wrong. Right now, I don’t actually know if something is amiss, even if every nerve in my body is screaming to shift and go into flight or fight mode.

Taking a sip of my soda, I catch Shep’s eye over the top of Ciro’s head. He likes to act like he’s oblivious to Ciro’s crush on him, but I’ve seen him watching the young man. There’s definitely interest in his gaze, but he seems to be holding himself back from acting on it.

“That’s why I’m asking! Were you with Blue?” Ciro slaps a hand down on the desk as if he’s playing the bad cop role in a bad television drama. “I’ve seen the hickies on his neck and the way you look at him.”

Ignoring the amateur dramatics and the curious stares, I raise a brow. “Did you tell him anything? The man?”

Ciro scoffs, as if I’m asking a stupid question, crossing his arms across his chest. “Of course not. We don’t know who he is or what he wants.”

“He’s an outsider,” Jaxs (or Jackson) chimes in while Burt murmurs in agreement.

Shep finally approaches with my food, saving me from Ciro’s interrogation with a stern glare that makes Ciro squirm in his seat. “Is everything okay over here?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” I nod as he places the bowl of chili down with cutlery wrapped in a napkin.

Glancing up, I realize Blue must have noticed the crowd gathering around my table and finally spotted me because he’s walking over. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face, but I can also see something else reflected in his eyes. Is he nervous? He looks a little tired, and perhaps paler than usual.

“Hey, I didn’t see you come in.” His voice is soft, as he stands next to Shep and stares down at where Ciro is sitting next me practically in my lap. He must have inched closer when we were talking.

“I haven’t been here long,” I say, aware of all the eyes on us, and someone behind me coughs to hide a snicker.

“What are you talking about over here?”

Ciro glances back at Blue with a grin. “That new guy in town.”

“What new guy?” A flicker of alarm darts across his face and I feel panic blossoming in my chest. Those aren’t my feelings...are they?

“The one staying at Betsy’s inn.”

Blue’s guest is clearly unimpressed at being left alone while the rest of us are huddled on the other side of the bar around another table. It’s either that or they dislike having their back exposed to the room without Blue sitting opposite, so they move, sliding into the vacated seat.

For a moment, I try to place him, feeling he looks familiar. The man is beautiful in a haughty way, with high sharp cheekbones and perfectly arched brows. His long hair looks like a curtain of black silk, apart from two silver streaks on either side of his face.

There’s a gleam in his eye that seems oddly hostile as he glances over and his gaze locks on mine. His green eyes narrow, and a frisson of awareness runs through me.

I know those eyes.

Recognize that face.

He’s been on Interpol’s watchlist for years, but we’ve never been able to make anything stick to Tuesday Reynard. There was never any tangible evidence that could prove definitively he was the infamous ‘Le Chat Noir’, a thief who had stolen a priceless Sapphire bracelet from the Louvre.

I can see the moment he realizes that I’m onto him, because his mouth twists into a taunting smile and he lifts his hand and waves his fingers. It’s like a dare or a challenge to see how I respond. This was Blue’s friend who was having an emergency?

Le Chat Noir was also friends with The Ghost. Even though we hadn’t caught them together, I strongly suspected there were a few instances where they had worked together. The signs were too clear to be ignored. There had been similar jewelry thefts in the same city, their paths crossing often enough for it to raise suspicions. There had also been one case where The Ghost had stolen the diamonds, only for Le Chat Noir to go back three days later to steal the rest, like it was some sort of game.

If Le Chat was here, what did that mean?

Where was The Ghost?