Page 24

But that wasn’t for Matteo to worry about.

The sweet contentment he’d been radiating since their bonding needed to be maintained at all costs.

And perhaps that was selfish of Nightmare, but so be it.

It fed something in him, that sense of well-being emanating from his mate.

Nourished some deep, dark place he’d never known needed filling. He ached to keep it.

Nightmare had known the taste of Matteo’s soul already, but he hadn’t realized how the whole of it would feel.

That it would be like a bright bit of light in his sternum, nestled somewhere that had never once seen the sun.

A place for Nightmare’s shadows to feel the heat of that blaze, a warm caress Nightmare had never known they craved.

Even now they kept diving in, basking in the glow of it—a small bit of recompense for being denied the pleasure of wrapping around Matteo in public.

Nightmare had been sure of his course ever since he’d come across Matteo in the dream realm, but this was confirmation.

Matteo was Nightmare’s purpose, his answer to an existence that went beyond mere survival. His destiny. His perfect, soulful mate.

And Nightmare had claimed him for eternity.

So Nightmare kept his worries to himself, and soon enough their bus arrived at their destination, the depot in Seacliff.

Once they were off the bus, Matteo glanced around warily, then tucked his hand into the crook of Nightmare’s elbow. “Let’s walk to the house. You want me to be seen, right?”

Nightmare didn’t. He wanted to keep the sight of his beautiful summoner all to himself, for him and his shadows alone.

But the plan said otherwise. So they walked, Matteo’s thick hoodie in place despite the heat of the summer sun.

Perhaps Matteo was not feeling completely carefree, then. He was still hiding, in his way, even with Nightmare at his side.

They didn’t come across anyone who seemed likely to have been working for Dominico.

They mainly came across families Matteo identified as tourists, swarms of them taking photos and devouring the local treats while they visited the quaint shops of the town.

The few solo travelers they saw were mostly women, and none of them smelled like nefarious intentions.

There was no one Matteo seemed to recognize, other than familiar townspeople he still shied away from.

At least not until they arrived at the house. Because there on the porch was a large, muscular figure, his burly arms crossed in front of his chest, a slim blond man standing beside him.

The warrior Kaisyir and his human mate.

Nightmare halted their progress on the sidewalk, keeping Matteo at his side. “Did the chaos demon spill so soon?” he called out. “Who would have thought the little menace was such a telltale?”

“It was the incubus, actually,” Kaisyir told him in his low rumble. “As soon as he got off the video call.” He sent a severe look Matteo’s way. “Matteo. Come stand by Sascha, over here.”

Matteo nibbled at his lip, looking up at Nightmare with a furrowed brow. Nightmare didn’t need their soul connection to know his human was torn. Nightmare even knew why: the loyalty and gratitude Matteo held toward this couple, the ones who had saved him from his old life of pain and misery.

And for that reason alone—the part those two had played in saving Matteo’s life—Nightmare would quell this dark surge of possessiveness and allow Kaisyir to keep all his limbs, despite the warm smile Matteo had displayed upon seeing the other demon.

“Kai,” Matteo called softly, a note of pleading in his voice. “You remember your friend Sarkaron.”

Kaisyir grunted. “I can remember him with you over here.”

And there. That was enough protectiveness from the warrior toward a mate that didn’t belong to him.

Nightmare tugged Matteo into him, wrapping an arm around his chest, his front to Matteo’s back.

He watched the way the gesture made Kaisyir’s eyes narrow.

And maybe centuries spent with Chaos’s mischievous nature had infected him, because Nightmare lifted a hand to cup Matteo’s fragile throat, pleased beyond measure when Matteo relaxed into the touch.

Kaisyir growled.

Nightmare grinned, and the gesture was all sharp teeth. “You’re aware I can’t harm him, warrior. Not with a contract in place.”

“I know that he’s a sweet soul,” Kaisyir ground out.

“And that you’re trickier than Chaos when you want to be.

” The warrior stepped forward—even in his human form, he was a massive presence—and then he froze, sniffing at the air.

His brutish face fell, and he gave Matteo an oddly imploring look. “What have you done, little chick?”

“Why?” The warrior’s mate—Sascha—looked between them all, his pale eyes wide with panic. “What happened to Matty?”

“They’ve bonded.” Kaisyir turned toward the house, shepherding a gaping Sascha in front of him. His parting words held a dark finality. “We’re already too late.”

Nightmare watched them go, his arm held secure around his mate.

His grin never faltered.