by R Phoenix
“Murdered,” Leandro scoffed, but he was both startled and infuriated by the news. “How many of them did he fuck?”
Gideon had begun to wrap his hand, but he stopped abruptly and glanced up with a frown. “I don’t know.”
There was enough truth to the words to where Leandro almost believed them, but there was just a touch of a lie, too. “How many did he fuck?” he repeated, taking a threatening step closer to Gideon.
“Two that I know of,” Gideon said.
Leandro didn’t appreciate the sharpness in his voice. “Don’t forget who works for who,” he warned quietly. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, clutching the bracelet as he pointed at his mouthy second-in-command. “Did he or did he not fuck Nero?” he asked.
Gideon hesitated long enough for Leandro to gesture him to hurry up and speak already. The nephilim’s hair rustled slightly with the wind that began to pick up in the room.
The celestial bastard finally nodded.
Leandro wanted to twist that wind hard, to turn it into a tornado that would spin around the entirety of the casino before sweeping over the city, ripping apart everything until he found Kol’tso.
Oh, Leandro had been a bit harsh with his punishment, but really. What had Kolt been thinking? What had Nero been thinking? That he wouldn’t find out?
Of course his incubus had gone and fucked the other fae. If the little waif thought his last punishment had been bad, it would be nothing compared to what he’d do to Kolt when he returned home.
He would make sure his incubus never left him again.
“Why didn’t you go get him?” Leandro demanded.
“He murdered several humans and a fae, Leandro,” Gideon said. His words were like a distant buzzing in Leandro’s ears, unwanted and annoying, and he wanted to swat them away — wanted to swat the nephilim away, too. “They won’t release him.”
Leandro let out a sharp laugh. It wasn’t funny, per se, but at the same time… He was fae. He could do anything he wanted, and that included getting his pet incubus back from the Organization. Kolt was his. “Perhaps not to you, but they’ll release him to me.”
He turned the bracelet over in his fingers as Gideon silently finished wrapping his hand, running his fingers along the stones, but it didn’t calm him down. It only stoked his rage to think of the accounts of Kolt hurting himself to get it off. Why hadn’t he considered that when he’d had the piece of jewelry made? Foolish. It had been spelled so the clasp couldn’t come undone, and the chain couldn’t be broken or even cut by any implements of this world.
He hadn’t considered the possibility of Kolt breaking his own hand, but he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“The Organization exists first and foremost to cover these incidents up,” Leandro said dismissively, “and I can provide a list of everything Nero was doing that violated their rules.” His jaw clenched. “Including fucking my property without permission. Not to mention, the fae laws demand that I be responsible for bringing my pet to heel.”
“Maybe if we were in the fae realm, but we aren’t.”
“Cultural freedom,” Leandro reminded Gideon. “They can’t interfere with our customs.”
“They can when it involves human lives being taken,” Gideon said quietly, closing the first aid kit. “They might overlook Nero’s and let that go to fae law, but not the mortals.”
Leandro scoffed at that. “I can pay reparations.”
Gideon shook his head. “It’d be more than reparations, Leandro. It would be sentencing, maybe even time at the Organization’s prison. You—”
Leandro’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t going to like this, and he knew it. “I what?” he snapped.
“They’re going to hold you responsible,” Gideon said, meeting his gaze then. “Like you said, he’s your property. You’re responsible for his behavior.”
“That’s preposterous,” Leandro replied, staring at Gideon in disbelief. The bracelet slipped from his hand, clattering down onto the table. “It’s my place to punish him, not to…” He flicked a hand. “Serve out a sentence for what he’s done.”
Gideon held up his hands, palms out, as if offering that broken hand for him to hurt. “I don’t control the Organization, sir. I’m—”
“Completely and utterly useless,” Leandro snarled, advancing upon him. He grabbed Gideon’s injured hand before the man could react, and the nephilim went still. He squeezed it, wanting — needing — to get a reaction out of him.
Gideon didn’t give it to him. His features contorted with pain, but the only sound coming from him was the grinding of his teeth.
Leandro’s fingers closed more tightly around Gideon’s. He could crush the bones there. He could leave that hand as useless as the man himself. He could make him scream. He might be brave, resilient, but Leandro could find his limits. He could—
“I’m an employee, sir, not a slave,” Gideon said through those gritted teeth. It was gratifying to notice that his breathing had quickened.
Leandro laughed, the sound high and wild even to his own ears. An employee. Not a slave. No, he wasn’t a slave, and he wasn’t Kolt, and he was useless. “You could be,” he spat.
Gideon met his eyes, and the look in the nephilim’s was enough to make even Leandro hesitate. Leandro relaxed his grip on the man’s hand, taking a step back, and Gideon rose.
“Thank you,” Gideon said, as though Leandro had taken his hand to help him up instead of nearly deciding to crush every bone in it.
All it did was stoke his anger more. No wonder his slave had sauntered out. They all believed they could do what they wanted without consequence.
It was almost like they believed he was a pesky human, with a conscience and morals he had no interest in trying to develop. Perhaps he’d spent too much time in their realm, abided by too many of their rules, and now… Now they thought he was weak.
“Do you think I’m weak?” Leandro asked, standing almost toe-to-toe with Gideon.
Gideon blinked. The shock didn’t linger long, but it was there long enough for Leandro to remember that he needed the nephilim, that he’d been nothing but loyal. “No, sir.”
No, Gideon didn’t think he was weak. Leandro could damn near smell his fear. “Do they? Do they think I’m becoming too… human?” he asked, sneering at the word as he jerked his head to the door behind which his patrons and his employees were all none the wiser to his agitation.
Gideon shook his head.
“Then tell me why the fuck he thought he could waltz out of here!” If his voice cracked, it did so from anger, not from anything more. Anger was acceptable, but anything more… The stories of fae who became too enamored with humans all ended badly for them. Mortals might consider fae cruel, but they were no less so.
And no one, least of all an incubus slave, was going to turn him into a mockery, some pathetic excuse of one of his kind.
“Well?” Leandro demanded when Gideon didn’t answer.
“I don’t know,” Gideon replied.
Leandro laughed, low and brittle. No, of course he didn’t. No one knew but Kolt. “Get him back.”
“Sir, I—”
The wind that picked up didn’t start small; it emerged from still air at a full, harsh howl as it swirled around them. “Get him back! I won’t be made a fool of!”
“Leandro—”
The tornado crashed into one table, sending splinters flying in every direction. Several of them lodged in his own skin as well as the nephilim’s, but he ignored the sting of pain as his power continued to take out the smaller table and the projector stand. It picked up the metal chairs, slamming them into the wall as he roared, “I said get him back!”
He turned, and the wind whipped at his own hair as he flung his hand out. Energy crackled in the air as it sped up more and more, smashing everything left in the room but the projector screen behind Gideon.
When it finally died down, Leandro was breathing heavily. Gideon was protecting his face with his arms, and the
silence was deafening in the wake of the storm.
Leandro took a deep breath. “Get him back, Gideon,” he said, his voice much quieter then. “You know who to call. Get it done.”
Gideon slowly straightened up, eyes scanning the pieces of what had been tables, the twisted metal that had been chairs, before they returned to Leandro’s. His breath was as uneven as Leandro’s when he replied, “I’ll make the calls.”
“Good,” Leandro said, nodding. “Good.”
As he watched Gideon carefully tread around him and the debris to get to the door, he forced himself to calm. It was fine. Everything was fine. It wouldn’t be long before his incubus was returned to him. He’d start with the mortal ways of lawyers, red tape, and bureaucracy. He would take apart the Organization for daring to cross him.
Then he’d dismantle the people within it, and Kolt would be there, back at his side to bear witness.
Chapter Thirty
Bryce was aware of Tobias and Rickman conversing just behind him. The door to the cell was open — or ajar, rather, and the lights in the room didn’t seem as bright now that there was actually someone in the hospital-like bed. Bryce leaned against the doorway, looking in through the small window at the incubus while he tried trying to wrap his head around what had happened.
“O-CSI needs to gather more data, and then we’ll run the rests,” Tobias said from behind him.
Bryce glanced back at him.
“He’s not registered. Get on that first thing when he wakes. Ackerman will help you,” Rickman decided.
Bryce didn’t respond.
Getting the incubus out of the car and into the building had been hard. Kolt was heavy now, much heavier than he had been. Everything about him was different, and knowing he could change his physical appearance and actually seeing it were two very different things. He’d imagined hair color changes were the norm, but a full body transformation…
How the incubus wasn’t making millions being the before and after guy in every commercial ever was beyond him.
He’d taken the rope that Gideon had used to restrain him off of his wrists and ankles, but because of protocol, he’d replaced them with a pair of handcuffs — one on each wrist and cuffed to the bed. Just in case. He wouldn’t take Gideon’s warning lightly.
“What if he doesn’t wake up?” Bryce asked. It didn’t seem reasonable that he was still out cold from a right hook to the face.
“Well,” Tobias said, straightening his shoulders. “Depending on what knocked him out—”
“A guy,” Bryce cut in. Gideon wasn’t a mere human though. There was a reason he was a thug working for the likes of Leandro.
“We may have to run a diagnostic on him. The usual stuff, MRI, CAT, you know,” the man said.
Percy finally spoke up from where he was taking notes on his tablet. “He does still have a brain much like a human’s, so it could be damaged. I don’t think so though,” he said, glancing cautiously at Tobias.
“No,” the latter agreed. “Because his physiological responses were normal, he should come to any moment—”
“Can’t you give him something?” The waiting was the worst.
“We’re not giving a potential murder suspect any drugs, Ackerman,” Rickman said, closing the folder and handing it to Bryce. “Do your job, worry less about him,” he said with a nod. “We’ve a mass murder to deal with, and I want a preliminary report on it on my desk before the end of the day whether the incubus wakes up or not.”
“Yes, boss,” Bryce said, taking the folder and sticking it under his arm before going back to looking at Kolt.
“Registration. I want to know where he came from and what he’s been up to,” Rickman reminded Tobias, who nodded emphatically and pointed at Rickman.
“You got it, boss,” he said, a little too eagerly.
Suck up.
Rickman left, the doors of the laboratory closing nearly silently behind him, then Bryce could hear Tobias exhale loudly.
“Okay, this is exciting,” the senior nerd muttered, but Bryce paid little attention to him or his lab coat. Mass murders weren’t his idea of exciting.
“There’s a chair in the room, you know,” Percy piped up.
Bryce cast him a sidelong look before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I know,” he said.
“It might be better if there’s someone there if he does wake up. Coming out of a state can be disorienting,” the younger man suggested.
“Fine,” Bryce said, casting him an annoyed look.
“It’s not like you were going to do anything else until he wakes up,” Percy pointed out.
“Shouldn’t you be in there, inspecting your new specimen? A real life one?” Bryce countered snidely.
The younger man’s jaw tightened. “I want to, but it’s against protocol for me to treat otherkin without their direct consent,” Percy pointed out.
“I meant for your collection and your database. This is the one you were asking me about when I had nothing but disappointing answers,” Bryce insisted, not sure why Percy wasn’t in there, poking and prodding mentally and physically. Taking measurements, drawing blood, cutting off hair… being a weird scientist.
“Well,” Percy said primly. “He probably murdered a lot of people. I’ll observe you first.” He gave Bryce a look before turning around and heading back to his own desk.
“Great, so if I don’t get eaten, then—”
“Then it’s safe and I can conduct research, yes. It’s called self-preservation, Ackerman. You should try it,” Percy called back at him.
Bryce chose not to take offense at those words. He resisted another moment or so, determined not to either be too close or too freaked out by the shape changing part of it. He could still see it was Kolt. Sort of.
Maybe he just wanted to be able to recognize him, his brain compensating for what it didn’t understand. It felt like looking at the incubus’ older brother from a different mother. There were similarities in the bone structure, but everything else had changed. His skin tone, his muscle mass, his height… It was equally as impressive as it was terrifying.
He could understand now, finally, why it was nearly impossible to keep track of the incubi as a species.
Slowly, Bryce settled in the chair across from the bed, tossing the manila folder of the open case file about Kolt and what he’d done on the table without looking at it. He could probably get Emma to do the report, but then he’d either have to call her or go there, and he wasn’t about to. He could do it later, either the preliminary report or asking Emma.
He couldn’t just sit there though. Before long, he was back on his feet, moving closer to the bed. On some level, he knew that he couldn’t wake an unconscious person up by shaking them, or slapping them like they did in the movies, but it was tempting.
The longer Kolt was out cold, the sooner Bryce would have to deal with Leandro. It might even be before Kolt woke. Gideon might’ve said he’d hold him off, but he didn’t have much faith in the guy.
Plus, Bryce was finally alone with Kolt. It would be the best moment to brief him on the plan and make it clear that he couldn’t fucking complain about it unless he wanted to go down for murder. Bryce didn’t really want to think about what Emma had said might happen if the Organization didn’t trust him enough for release back into society.
“Kolt,” he said softly, touching one of the incubus’ hands. His fingers dragged farther, past the cuff, and up his forearm. “You’re safe now. If you can hear me, I want you to know that, okay?” he murmured, leaning a little closer.
Kolt was still beautiful. The darkened hair was nice, even if the shorter length made him look a little too much like a pop star for Bryce’s tastes. His face was rounder now, which made him look softer, more human. Bryce thought he might like it better that way. He reached up and brushed the marbled strands out of the incubus’ face and tucked them carefully behind Kolt’s ears.
It was then that he saw the tremor of those eyelids, and the twitch around Kolt�
�s lips — followed immediately by a slight wince as it aggravated the bruising on his face from where Gideon had hit him. Bryce was reminded of Gideon’s warning, and he quickly took a step back, not wanting to be within … life-force-sucking distance!
Whatever it was.
Kolt’s breathing deepened, and Bryce slowly sat back down in the chair, assuming that it meant he was just going back to his slumber. He was wrong; the incubus continued to slowly wake, until he suddenly jerked bodily.
Kolt’s hands shot up as he drew in a sharp breath, rattling the cuffs that caught and snagged on his wrists. “What—” he croaked, jerking on the cuffs a second time while Bryce rose. Their eyes briefly met, but then the incubus’ bewildered gaze went to the cuffs. “Get them off me,” he said sharply, yanking on them again.
“It’s just a precaution, Kolt,” Bryce said carefully, holding up a hand. “You need to calm down and talk to me, okay?”
The incubus wasn’t having it.
Kolt yanked fiercely on the cuffs, this way and that, his eyes wild. “Get them off me!” he snarled. “Take them off!” he added, practically hysterical.
Bryce paused, glancing at the door. Through the window, he saw Percy and Tobias jump to their feet. “Kolt, calm down. Please listen—”
“Get it off of me, get it off! Now!” the incubus continued to snarl, thrashing against the bonds.
“It’s a safety measure, Kolt. Please listen—” He couldn’t get a word in edgewise though as Kolt continued his mantra, rattling the chain and yanking until Bryce could see blood on his wrists from the handcuffs cutting into him. “Okay!” he snapped back, stepping forward and reaching for his keys. “I’ll take them off. I’ll take them off, calm down, if you hold still.”
Kolt went still immediately, breathing hard and holding both his hands up — the chains of the cuffs pulled tight, the metal digging into his skin.
“I’ll get them off,” Bryce promised again as he held up the key. “Just hold still, okay? Breathe… You’re okay. You’re safe.” He tried to calm the incubus down as best he could while gently taking one hand in his. There was a jolt of something when he touched him. Gideon had said something about that too, hadn’t he?
