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Chapter 19

Malcolm

T he disgusting sleazy frat boy—the very one who’d approached Malcolm some time earlier with the offer —was Kostas’s boss.

It figured.

But before Malcolm could say a word, or react to the disgusting look the man gave him, like the term sex offender personified, Kostas had broken away, dropped his hand, and?—

Wonder of wonders, Malcolm didn’t have a second of hesitation, of worry that perhaps Kostas would agree and side with his boss, letting the kidnappers have Malcolm back. No, his only worry had been that the man would hurt Kostas when he said no.

It didn’t look like Carson Castle was going to be hurting anyone ever again, though, with Kostas’s whole damn hand lodged in his chest.

Already, the light was leaving the man’s eyes as they glassed over, caught in an expression of pure shock forever.

He was right to be shocked, in a way. He had made the most loyal creature Malcolm had ever met act in anger and violence against someone he had liked.

An ominous click sounded from behind them, and Malcolm whipped around to see the shark-eyed man who had kidnapped him. Tak, one of the others had called him on that first night.

Unsurprisingly, he had his gun once again leveled at someone, ready to shoot.

This time, though, the bastard’s target was Kostas, and that simply wasn’t acceptable. Malcolm couldn’t put together a timeline in his head of when it had gone from himself against the world to himself and Kostas against the world, but there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in him for it.

Kostas had turned on his boss, the man he’d said had given him a new chance when no one else would, because he’d been presented a choice between Malcolm and someone else.

For the first time in his life, someone had been given a choice between their own comfort and Malcolm, and... he’d chosen Malcolm. Without hesitation, or hedging, or bargaining.

So Malcolm stepped between the gun and Kostas the same way.

Not that he was planning to get shot, of course. But if the asshole killed Kostas, it would ruin every hope Malcolm had for his future. The plans he had to explore Kostas from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, as frequently as possible, even if he had to do it in that horrible, rat-infested apartment Kostas lived in.

Though now, he supposed, since Kostas had his hand lodged in his boss’s chest, he probably wouldn’t continue working for Phaze.

For some reason, that was what made him break into a hysterical giggle, and Kostas, with some confusion, tore his gaze away from the organ in his grip.

The gunman, Tak, lifted a brow, but he didn’t try to aim around Malcolm for Kostas. “I’ll just shoot him when you fall with the first shot, little incubus. Neither of you is getting out of here alive. Not now.” He lifted his chin in the direction of Carson, over Malcolm’s shoulder. “Going to be harder to sell you without the boss’s contacts, so you two just cost me a big fucking payout.”

“So you’re not getting paid,” Malcolm agreed. “Nothing you do changes that. You should go. There’s nothing left for you here.”

A smile spread across his shark face, and for a moment, Malcolm wondered if he was inhuman. He seemed to have too many teeth, and too wide a grin for a man who wasn’t going to make the money he’d wanted.

“It’s sweet you think you might get out of this alive, princess. I warned you not to make trouble. What did you do? You made trouble. So now I shoot you. I kill your little boyfriend. Then if you’re still alive, we have a little fun before I kill you. If you’re not, maybe I have a little fun before I leave anyway.” He gave a half shrug, like it made no difference to him either way.

Malcolm was still trying to move past his nausea at the casual notion of necrophilia—what was the point of that? Dead things didn’t have sexual energy. There was no reason to fuck them. The sound of a tumble and thump caught his attention, though, and behind him, he felt Kostas turn.

Malcolm glanced back, and those beautiful teal eyes were glowing an eerie pale shade, focused hard on the gunman.

The exceptionally calm gunman. “Open your mouth, siren, and I shoot your boyfriend in the heart. I’m a damn good shot, and you don’t want to take that chance.”

Kostas wrapped his arms around Malcolm, pulling him in tight, pressing his hand—a hand that only seconds earlier had been lodged in a man’s chest—over Malcolm’s heart. The blood and viscera somehow didn’t even make Malcolm flinch.

For him. Kostas had killed that man for him, to protect him. That blood was for him, and he would take it as the gift it was. The gift Kostas was.

And maybe the gunman would shoot Kostas if he opened his mouth, but Malcolm didn’t need to use his mouth to use his gifts.

As disgusting as the notion was, seducing someone with his powers instead of his good looks and the promise of mind-blowing sex, he thought... if this wasn’t the right time to set aside his morals and do what he had to, when was?

So he reached up and pressed his own hand to Kostas’s, over his heart, and then he took his senses, reached out to the gunman’s mind, and yanked.

For a fraction of a second, he thought it wouldn’t work. The man’s hand squeezed tight around the grip of his gun, and he aimed, breathed in—and Malcolm pulled harder. Pulled harder than he’d ever pulled before in his life. Ignored the possibility of hurting the man’s mind, of hurting his own abilities, just grabbed the man’s mind with his own and heaved with all his might.

Most of the time when Malcolm used his powers, it was nothing but a touch. A caress. A whisper of power combined with a sultry look.

This was Malcolm taking a clawhammer to the man’s mind.

A second later, the gun clattered to the ground, and Tak fell to his knees, staring at Malcolm as though he were the sun, the moon, and every beautiful thing ever created. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but no words came out.

He did start drooling after a second.

That was when, from the darkness behind Tak, someone clapped, slowly, staccato beats that almost hit Malcolm like body blows.

When Elrith stepped out of the shadows, he wasn’t surprised at all.

“I didn’t think you called him,” Kostas whispered in his ear, sounding a little hurt at the idea Malcolm had hidden something from him, like calling Elrith for help.

But Malcolm didn’t have an answer, because he hadn’t called his father.

“It looks like you’re not as useless as you seem,” Elrith said, glancing to each side as men followed him out of the shadows. They grabbed the still, staring body of Tak, and his gun, leading him away even as he continually tried to turn back toward Malcolm, his eyes glassy and worshipful. Two more pushed Carson’s still-bleeding but definitely dead form onto a stretcher and removed him as well.

Elrith looked around the room, considering, as he walked forward. Like he meant to buy the place. “I suppose it’ll do. We’ll have to get rid of all this mist nonsense, and the flashing lights, but I can make it into something decent.” He turned back to Malcolm. “Like you. You started a pathetic whiny brat, just like your crackwhore of a mother, and look at you now. Snapping the minds of your enemies like a real incubus.”

Malcolm turned to look Kostas in the eye. “I didn’t call him.”

Kostas’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on Malcolm tightened protectively. “Then he knew all along.”

“Of course I did,” Elrith agreed lightly, wandering over to the bar, running a hand along the black lacquered surface and giving it an appraising look. “Incubi were disappearing. It all led back to here, to Castle. And when you were taken, son, well, I had to see if you were worth saving.”

“You didn’t save us,” Malcolm shot back instantly.

Elrith smiled, his oiliest, most irritating smile. “I didn’t have to. Which proves once and for all that you’re the only one of the brats I’ve been supporting who was worth the time and effort.”

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to Sasha? Why isn’t she answering her phone?”

Elrith rolled his eyes and shrugged his whole body. “Who knows with that one? Too clever by half and twice as annoying.”

“But not me.”

Elrith cocked his head in question, but didn’t ask anything.

“I’m not too clever. It took me this long to figure things out. To figure you out.” He looked back at Kostas, meeting his eyes, and lowering his voice to a whisper. “To figure myself out.”

He turned back to his father. “Jasper moved out months ago to live with his bear. Declan is living with a dragon, who has yet to hear anything good about you, so I’d avoid him if I were you, because he’s not a forgiving fellow. And Sasha, well, you said it, didn’t you? She’s too clever for you.” He slid his fingers between Kostas’s, ignoring the disturbing squish of still-tacky blood because he wanted to hold hands with his... his boyfriend?

No. Tomorrow.

With his tomorrow . Because tomorrow was a nebulous thing, wasn’t it? Once they got to tomorrow, it would be today, leaving tomorrow in the future. So Kostas would have to stay then too. For every single today, because tomorrow was always going to be a day away.

He turned and looked at his father, who was staring at him in annoyed confusion. One last look at his past. “And I’m not that. I’m not good like Jasper or independent like Declan or smart like Sasha. But there’s one thing I am that you should know about.”

Elrith rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know, you’re fucking the siren. Beneath you, but it could be worse. You’ll get over it soon enough.”

“No, not that. I mean, you’re wrong about that. I’ve known Kostas for two days, and he means more to me than anyone else I’ve ever known, including—no, especially—you.” He turned and kissed Kostas on the cheek, and was in turn pulled in tight for a reassuring hug. “What I meant is that I’m the asshole. Unlike any of my siblings, I’m not going to forget this. I’m not going to let it go.”

Elrith’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step toward Malcolm, cut short when Kostas honest to gods growled at him.

“I suggest you forget the club, Elrith,” Malcolm told him, returning the same cold look his father had always given him. “I suggest you find someplace you want to live that isn’t Lyric. Because this is my town. The place where my family lives. And if you hurt anyone I care about, or play these sick games with them... well, like I said. I’m the asshole. And I’ll make your life completely fucking miserable.”

Gripping Kostas’s hand tight, he turned and walked out of the club, taking his tomorrow with him.