Sloth: A Fated Mate Superhero Romance (The Deadly Seven Book 4)

by Lana Pecherczyk

  Sloan sat up. The cat never got aggressive. Sure, she made the odd growling rumble from time to time, but she looked down right murderous and ready to pounce at whoever walked through the apartment door. It was almost as if the cat felt Sloan’s emotions—or vice versa.

  Sloan gathered the kitty into her arms and stroked her back. “Shh. It’s probably just Wyatt. I was being stupid.”

  The gala was tomorrow night, and she had run out of time to get her hair done or to buy a dress as per Parker’s instructions. King Pee was a jackass for telling her what to do. He may be the leader of their team, but he was a snob.

  She’d not always been ratty-haired and sloppy-clothed. She used to like funky clothes, and gamer themed accessories. She used to tie her long black hair into high pigtails with buns on the top, tails streaming down her back, just like her favorite manga character. She wore cosplay themed clothing and cool T-shirts. Sloan was part of the nerd herd and she loved it.

  “Yes, it’s just Wyatt.” The man in question stopped at her open bedroom door. Misha’s blond, curly hair poked in from behind.

  “Hi, Sloan!” Misha waved. “We’ve missed you. You okay? Wyatt—oof. Move aside man.” Misha tried to push the big warrior of wrath, but he wouldn’t budge until he gave Sloan’s room a furtive once-over.

  “Jeez, bras. No baddies in here,” she teased. “Misha’s safe to enter.”

  “No baddies. Just stale air.” He scrunched his nose. “When was the last time you opened a window?”

  “Last night when I ordered pizza.” Sloan poked her tongue at him as he moved to her bedroom window, brushing aside the drapes so he could get to the pane.

  Misha looked good. Glowing, as they often said. Her yoga-trim, well looked after body, barely showed the tiniest of belly bumps. Sloan could only tell because she knew how super flat Misha’s stomach was before. Misha grew the first of the next Lazarus generation and she couldn’t be happier. Then again, she was always happy.

  She bounced over to Sloan’s bed. “Ooh. Kitty cat.”

  Both Sloan and Luna tensed with the sudden approach. Sloan forced herself to calm, and the cat did too.

  Wyatt snorted. “It’s true what they say.”

  “What’s that, Wyatt?” She scowled at him, very conscious of her two-day-old appearance. He better watch what he said next.

  “Like owner, like pet.”

  She’d give him that. It was true. Luna had been mimicking Sloan over the past few days. She slept when Sloan slept, moped when Sloan moped. Whatever.

  “Why are you here, Wyatt?” She pouted at him.

  It was Misha who answered brightly. “I’ve made us an appointment at my salon. You and me. Girls morning. Yay!”

  “Really?”

  Misha nodded excitedly, and Sloan couldn’t help connecting with that excitement, just like she had every time she watched someone get an answer right on Jeopardy last night. Damn it. The flood of Misha’s endorphins rushed Sloan awake, pushing out the worry coating her thoughts. She supposed she could go outside. Staying locked up would only cause her more problems. She should expose herself to strangers and test out her new emotional limits.

  “Come on, Sloan. You did say you wanted this, right?”

  Thinking back to how she’d felt so inadequate around Max and his new buff physique, she nodded.

  “I’m coming too.” Wyatt folded his arms. “You still failed to put Max down first.”

  In other words, she wasn’t good enough. “Technically, I did. But, fine, whatever.”

  “Speaking of Max, um—koteczek, can you give us a minute?” Misha asked.

  Wyatt moved to stand outside Sloan’s room, but she could faintly sense him somewhere near the kitchen. Her sin sensing capability gave her the power to know when someone was still, relaxing, or remained unmoving. Sloth was a strange sin. She could feel it like the ghost of an illness in her stomach, almost there, until it became a sickening pain when the sin became deadly. She’d often lamented over how their creator should have made their sin radar something fun, like a tingling in her loins instead of a sickness. But then, where would be the urge to stop the sin?

  “I heard about what happened with Max at the gym,” Misha said quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” Sloan pushed her blankets away. She wanted to avoid thinking about Maxi-Pad and the intense feelings he provoked.

  “How about we do a few Asana poses? Banish the brain fog, and—”

  “God, no.” Sloan was not a yoga person. “Just let me get dressed, and I’ll come. I’m feeling better now.”

  “And you’ll feel much better once Angelo gives you an extra long Ayurvedic scalp massage.” Misha wiggled her brows and Sloan couldn’t help smiling. Yep. She’d definitely been cooped up way too long if that sounded appealing.

  After sitting next to the happy-go-lucky woman on the ride to the salon, most of Sloan’s jitters had abated. Relentlessly, Misha had chatted away, while Sloan brooded out the window.

  Wyatt dropped them off at the door with strict instructions not to go anywhere until he arrived after parking the car. By the time Sloan followed Misha to the big glass doors of the modern salon, she was almost back to her old, feisty self.

  “I’m sorry about my attitude earlier,” she said to Misha while they waited. “I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “Oh,” Misha laughed. “Trust me, I get it. No woman wants to change appearances just because an arrogant man tells her to. Believe me, I get that. Just say the word and we’ll go home.”

  Sloan guffawed. Arrogant. “You know Parker so well.”

  “Do you know he forced my yoga studio closed once? Didn’t even ask. Just assumed he knew better and refunded my customers their tuition fees. As if money can solve all problems. I had to do some major damage control customer service after that.”

  “I hope his mate is someone who says no to him. A lot.”

  “Now, I’d pay money to see that!”

  The two of them chuckled until they fizzled out, looking through the glass doors into the salon. Despite the warm summer breeze tickling her skin, Sloan hugged herself. Inside, the decor was clean and white. The only splash of color came from the beauticians’ and hairdressers’ outfits. And the horde of customers.

  So many people. So many emotions and feelings.

  Her heart pounded in her throat. She put her hands in her pockets to avoid fidgeting. “You’re right. I need to do this; I’ll feel better afterwards.”

  “Awesome.” Misha linked arms with Sloan. “And we can have a proper sister gossip session. I’m dying to rant about my darling brooding—oh hi Wyatt. Back from parking so soon?”

  He glared at them with suspicion.

  “Hon, you’re not coming in, okay?” Misha said sweetly. “You can do your thing from the café across the street.”

  He checked the salon. “I’ll take a look around. Survey the back entrance. How long will you be?”

  “Could be hours, babe.”

  Exasperated, he frowned. “Hours?”

  Misha shrugged but gave Sloan pleading eyes.

  Sloan added, “I’m getting my hair dyed, so hours.”

  “All right. After I check it out, I’ll be across the street.” He went inside and walked straight past the receptionist who trotted after him, flagging him down.

  God, her brothers could be alpha assholes when they wanted to be. The word arrogant applied to all of them.

  Misha rounded on Sloan. “He’s driving me nuts! Do you know he sits in my yoga classes now? Doesn’t join in, just watches my students like he’s some kind of crazy stalker man.”

  “Sounds like Wyatt.”

  “Like, I get it. There’s danger and all that, but ugh.” She took a few deep breaths, mumbling a mantra about the past and future. When she was done, she brightened again. “It’s all good. If I let him win this level, then it means I get to be bossy in the bedroom later on, if you know what I mean.” She waggled her brows suggestively. “Last chan
ce I’ll get to jump his bones before he leaves for a rare weekend away.”

  “Ew. That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  “But he’s so hot. His bones are very jumpable.”

  “Double ew.”

  “Okay. Let’s go inside. I really need a scalp massage.”

  Wyatt returned from whatever dark spaces he’d assessed. “All good. You know where I’ll be.” He waved his cell phone and bent to kiss Misha tenderly on the cheek, using his big palm on her face to hold her there a moment.

  The man who used to be in a perpetual foul mood, softened and relaxed at contact with his mate. The sight made her insides ache, and it had nothing to do with sensed emotion. This was all her. She was jealous. Thank goodness Evan wasn’t around, or he’d call her out on it.

  As soon as Wyatt left, a short Italian man in a bright yellow suit rushed up to Misha. His two front teeth prominently poked over his bottom lip, reminding Sloan of a chipmunk. “Misha, darling. Give me a hug.”

  “Hi Angelo.”

  Angelo patted Misha’s curly hair with a few disapproving sounds. “That regrowth needs attention, sweet thing.”

  “No dye for me today, Angelo,” Misha said.

  He gaped, horrified. “But, sweetie. The regrowth.”

  “We’re here for this tall drink of water.” She waved at Sloan then leaned in to Angelo. “Her hair has never been dyed.”

  That was all Angelo needed to perk up. “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Fabulous.” He pursed his lips and inspected Sloan with shrewd eyes. “And you darling, what are you wanting today?”

  “Whatever says ‘Fuck you. You gave all this hotness up, and now you’ll never get it back.’ Can you do something like that?”

  Angelo blinked back at her, then his face split into a grin that made his nose lift and teeth show. “Girl, I like you. I’ve got just the thing.”

  He snapped his fingers and two stylists came running over. “We want the Revenge Package ladies.”

  Three hours later, Sloan sat in front of a mirror, staring into the face of a woman with slashes of red through her newly trimmed black hair. Shoulder length and healthy. A little weird with the style, but she could work with it. The strands still fit snuggly in a tie if she had to enter battle. Her nails were red. Eyebrows waxed. Lady parts waxed—don’t ask. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Even if Max would never see her goods, she knew she was in babe territory. It was like wearing sexy lingerie for her own joy. It empowered her.

  Misha sat next to her jabbering about something Sloan had missed over the roar of the hairdryer.

  But it was all done now.

  No bangs.

  Sloan grinned. She could deal with this.

  “You look hot, Sloan,” Misha leaned in, chewing on gum. “Max is going to seriously regret whatever he did. What did he do, by the way? Wyatt won’t dish and it’s driving me nuts.”

  “This isn’t about Max.” Sloan scowled.

  Misha snorted. “Yeah, okay. Revenge Package for the doorman then?”

  Damn it.

  Angelo’s fingers ran product through her hair. “Don’t ruin all my good work with that frown, sweetheart.”

  When Sloan turned her scowl on him, he made a hasty retreat, leaving Sloan alone with Misha.

  “You okay, Sloan?” Misha asked. “You’re scaring away the staff.”

  “Fine. I’m fine.” She rubbed her temples. “Just getting another headache.”

  “So… Max? What’s the deal?”

  She wasn’t going to let up, was she? Sloan sighed, fingers moving to tug on her hair, wanting to put the end in her mouth, but she resisted. “After years of online dating, we decided to make a go of our relationship in real life. He made the first move. Said he was quitting the army. He booked flights to come here. We were going to get married. Have babies. Live together forever. All that vomit stuff—no offense. It was such a huge commitment, that I told him my secret. He got cold feet.”

  “Oh. That’s… yeah. That’s rough.”

  They were both silent for a moment, and then Misha piped up. “Are you sure nothing happened to him? I mean, what if he didn’t show because something happened, you know?”

  “Oh, he came.” And that was the hurtful part. Sloan understood if he couldn’t deal with the vigilante crime-fighting, but it was the fact he believed the media before asking her for the truth. That betrayal hurt most of all. “I checked the flight records. He was in Cardinal City the day Sara blew herself up and killed a building full of people. The flight records also showed he left the city the same night. So… he believed the hype, I guess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He must have seen what the news stations were saying about us and decided it was too much.”

  “But he’s here now. If he didn’t want to be with you because he believed the lies the media spread, why did he come back?”

  Sloan had been avoiding asking that question herself. Was it as simple as he’d changed his mind? Decided not to believe the media?

  “Ow.” Misha’s hand went to her mouth.

  Sloan hissed as a stab of pain sliced through her tongue.

  “I bit my tongue instead of the gum,” Misha whined. “I’m such an idiot.”

  The tang of metallic blood filled Sloan’s mouth, and she held her finger there to inspect the flavor. It came away stained with red.

  When Misha spat out her gum, covered in red, she spotted the matching red on Sloan’s finger. Misha’s head cocked to the side as she studied Sloan. “Did your mouth just bleed when mine did?”

  The urge to confide in someone was stronger than Sloan’s will to deny. “Yes.”

  “Are you serious? Did you bite your tongue too?”

  “No.”

  “Then how?”

  Sloan stared at her new short, sparkly nails. Somehow, she couldn’t keep the truth from Misha. She was family. “I think it’s my power. Stupid as it is. I feel pain when others do. Sometimes I bleed. Not all the time… but… yeah. I think it’s some sort of empathic ability. I’ll be holed up in my room forever at this stage. I mean, I can’t even go to the salon without hurting myself when someone else does. This is hopeless.”

  Tears burned in her eyes. It was too much.

  Misha’s hand came over hers and squeezed. “Why haven’t you told anyone? Your family can help.”

  “Have you met my brothers?”

  “What about your mate?” When Sloan kept silent, Misha understood. “It’s Max, isn’t it? It’s Max and you hate him.”

  She couldn’t hold it back any longer. Tears spilled over. “Why me? Why do I get the asshole? Why do I get the power that hurts so much? And why do I give a shit?”

  It’s bad enough she had to prove she was as good as her macho brothers… but now this?

  Misha’s face crumpled. Tears welled in her eyes too. “You’re making me cry.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sloan wiped her eyes, but couldn’t stop. This breakdown was a long time coming.

  “Let it out, Sloan. Just release it all,” Misha said, nodding emphatically. “You’ll feel better. Go on.”

  She was right. Sloan had this pressure building inside that she’d been holding onto for so long. She needed to let it out. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then… just released.

  Something weird happened.

  Invisible energy whooshed from her body, lifting strands of her hair.

  Angelo started crying over the hair of the customer next to them. Then the customer started crying. Like dominos, everyone in the salon teared up.

  The entire salon was crying.

  Shocked into silence, Sloan’s jaw dropped.

  Misha whispered, “Oh my God, you’re really making me cry. You’re making all of us cry.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Come on. Deep breaths. In. Out. You need to calm down.”

  Panicked, Sloan did what Misha said. Refusing to focus on her blotchy face in the mi
rror, she forced herself to breathe. Misha came to stand behind her and gave her shoulders a massage, coaxing her to relax.

  “That’s right Sloan, focus on your breathing. This will help you anytime you feel overwhelmed. Inhale the future, exhale the past. That’s right. Keep doing it.” With each intake of air, Sloan felt her strength returning. With each exhale, peace eased into her body, spreading to loosen her limbs. When she was done, Misha locked eyes with her in the mirror. “Do you know what this means?”

  “No.”

  “You can affect the emotions of others. And… if you can bleed when others bleed, you might be able to make them bleed. Sloan. You have to tell your family about this.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m not ready. If I do, they’ll piece together about Max, too. I don’t want him to feel that pressure. I don’t want him to know.”

  Misha’s phone pinged for the millionth time, but she ignored it.

  “It’s probably Wyatt,” Sloan pointed out.

  “He can wait. I need to say something first. It may be none of my business, but I think you shouldn’t write Max off without speaking with him. For the record, I don’t think he hates you. You should find out what happened to him. Get the whole picture about his cold feet and then make a decision. I’m not saying you have to be with him, but… I know how having a lifemate helps Wyatt, and it’s more than just having the powers. Our connection keeps him sane. He visibly relaxes when he steps into my orbit.” Misha’s eyes softened. “You’re sad, hon. You shouldn’t be. Maybe this thing with Max was a misunderstanding. Maybe he thought you did something.”

  “Why? Has he said something to you?”

  “No. I’m just thinking aloud. The whole situation is just a little bizarre, you know? Why work for the very people you hate?”

  “Maybe he’s working for the enemy, and he’s spying on us.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “No.”

  “So, if he hates you, why come back?”

  That question again. It burned in Sloan’s stomach like the effects of sin. She couldn’t ignore it. Misha was right, Sloan was missing something.

  “You know,” Misha continued. “Having someone you love by your side could be good. How much better have you felt these past two months, and that’s only with Max walking around your proximity. When Wyatt and I touch—wow. And the sex… next level. That pheromone business you guys have going on… wow.”