by LJ Swallow
"We also have an injured friend in the car," says Cillian in a smooth and even tone. "Syv thought you could help us."
"Yeah, an unusual friend named Spot," I put in.
Col's mouth parts. "Spot? Where did you find him? Or has he found you?"
"Long story. He's hurt. Can the guys come inside?"
Col taps his fingers on his lips and again scrutinises Cillian, and then Morgan. He points at Morgan. "I don't like your magic, demon."
"I won't use it."
Col places an arm across the doorway, blocking the entrance. "Your magic goes against nature. You shouldn’t manipulate the world’s fabric. It’s dangerous."
I step forward and push at Col. He doesn’t budge. "Can we have this discussion inside. Morgan promises not to use any magic, don't you?"
I don't pause for his response and push at Col again. With a sigh, he allows me to pass.
"Get Dex, Cillian."
"And who's Dex?" asks Col. "How many of you are there?"
"Spot."
Col grabs my arm. "Okay. What's happening? Your clothes are torn and you have blood on your clothes again. I'm not allowing these people inside if they're responsible for your current state."
"Please, Col. Let them in." Col’s eyes widen further. Yes, I said ‘please’.
He cocks his head. "If there is trouble, Syv, I am holding you accountable. Don’t play dangerous games."
"With you? Ha. I learned not to years ago."
Col sweeps a hand and says to the guys, "Fine. Enter."
Cillian steps through the door, looking cautiously around him at the fae symbols painted in pictures on the wall and knots made from wrought metal. Do any of these affect him the way they do others? "Morgan will try to sneak Dex in without anybody seeing him."
Morgan ducks back out, and I stand, awkwardly, three people meeting who have no idea what to say. Although I still have plenty to say, and I recognise Col's suspicion. This switches to alarm on his face as Morgan and Dex enter the hallway.
"I cannot believe I'm allowing these three creatures in here," he mutters.
Cillian's mouth hardens and I shoot him a warning look. Dwellers. Supernatural creatures. But to me, he's a short step away from human.
"Kitchen." Col points in the direction, the part of the house distinct from his quiet rooms filled with personal effects. Usual visitors are only allowed in here, and upstairs is 'verboten'.
The room fits a table large enough to seat twelve people, but rarely does. The modern kitchen is filled with brushed metal appliances, and the visible shelves are stacked with bottles and boxes of substances I'm sure Dana would like to get her hands on—if she’s still alive.
Sliding glass doors lead to the garden, currently dark and surrounded by hedges. The total privacy Col craves.
Dex's claws clatter on the tiles as he follows. I almost—almost—make a comment about how useful that Col has a garden Dex could use if needed. But I decide sarcasm won't help the tense situation.
In the stronger light, the amount of blood on his brown muzzle is clearer. He limps toward Cillian and doesn’t look at me.
"I can't help him, if that's what you’re thinking." Col steps away from the dog, his mouth curling with distaste. "I don't know how to heal demons."
"You heal me and I have demon blood." He means he doesn't want to touch Dex, I bet.
"Take him to the bathroom," Col says to Morgan and indicates the stairs. "I'll make these gentlemen a drink. I have some questions for them."
I nod, but a thought strikes. "Uh. Dex needs clothes. Were there any in the car, Morgan?"
Morgan shakes his head. "Not today. Dex forgot to put extra spare in the car after he shifted outside the other day."
"This man shifts in public?" Col fails to hide his shock. This is new to me—the Collector losing his cool.
"No. Not often unless it’s an emergency." Morgan looks at me. "Twice recently, both times to save Syv."
I turn away as I remember the man’s words. Stop trying to bloody 'save' me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I wait with Cillian as Col disappears to find clothes, taking Morgan and Dex with him. Cillian stares around the room, eyes darting from item to item on the shelves, like a kid in a toyshop. He doesn’t speak, so I step out the room.
Col strides along the hall and hands me clean clothes for Dex, along with a dubious look. "I'm trusting the Dwellers because you do," he says softly. "But they can’t stay."
"Once Dex is sorted, we'll leave for the Institute."
"You can stay here if you need."
He's earnest and the Col who wants to keep me safe pushes to his surface again. I point at my arm. "I can't waste time, Col."
His brow furrows deeper than I usually see. "I'm sorry that I can't help. I’ve never heard of these marks until a few weeks ago and have no idea how to cure them."
I place a hand on his bare arm and squeeze. "You've helped me many times. More than I deserve. You're helping me by assisting these guys."
He scratches an eyebrow. "I will reserve judgement, but I saw how upset you were earlier. You trust them, and then you don’t, and now you trust them again."
I swallow away the denial. "My pride was in the way. I overreacted."
"Pride?" Col tips his head. "There's nothing wrong with pride."
"I thought so too." I squeeze his arm. "I'll tell you the whole story soon. I promise, but first—" I wave a hand upstairs. "I'll sort Dex and we can be out of your hair."
"What happened to make him shift?"
"I met someone else tonight, Col."
"My, you have been busy," he says with a small smile. "Another Dweller?"
"Just some dude who wanted to talk to me. It was nothing." I attempt to hide that I’m lying. Am I fooling him? "Dex overreacted."
Col pulls at his bottom lips. "‘Some dude’. Did he hurt you?"
"No. He’s probably connected to all this somehow. We’ll deal with it; you don’t need to get involved."
Col leans forward and his nose almost touches mine. "What are you hiding? When did we start to hide things from each other?"
My pulse quickens. "Col. Please. I’m trying to figure this all out, one thing at a time."
His hand curls around the back of my head, the way he does sometimes. The first time he did this, I accused him of trying to read my mind. Since then, I’ve realised he does it when we need to diffuse tension.
"But you will tell me everything?" I nod. "And it appears Spot is definitely not a hellhound?"
"No."
He gives a small laugh and let’s my head go. "I'm curious to see what he looks like when he's Dex."
"Similar. Large and scary."
"How large?" He gestures at the bundle in my arms. "Will the clothes fit?"
A memory of naked Dex reappears in my mind’s eye. "Large. But these pants are baggy."
"Bring him to me once he’s… normal. I need to hear what happened tonight."
As Col strides back toward the kitchen I call after him, "Go easy on them. They're good guys."
Col throws me one of his knowing smiles. "Yes, I sense that. Otherwise they wouldn't be in my house."
I look up to where Morgan stands at the top of the carpeted steps, beside a small table with violets in a glass vase. Another stained-glass window casts a strange rainbow across the surroundings.
Morgan wipes hands on his jeans, leaving wet handprints. Blood still smears his clothes from helping Dex, and guilt swirls in my stomach.
"Is Dex okay?"
"Yeah. He will be. We need to find out who that guy in the room was, though."
I cock a brow. "Top of my priority list. I really wish I’d had more time to talk to him."
"I’m not arguing with you again," sighs Morgan. "But things could’ve taken a bad turn—he had you locked in a magic trap. Did he tell you his name?"
I look over his head, to avoid the argument he’s talking about. "No. Can we sort Dex out before the interrogation, please
?"
He holds his hands out for the bundle in my arms. "Want me to give those to Dex?"
"I need to talk to him." I pause and rub the spare shirt sleeve between my fingers. "My turn for an apology."
"Look at us, all mature and shit," says Morgan.
I laugh. "Aren’t we?" A thought strikes me. "Is Dex naked?"
Morgan shakes his head with a wry smile. "Dude, he wouldn't shift back in front of me unless he had to. The Dex in the bathroom was still a dog when I walked out. Take him those clothes and the poor guy can leave his canine self behind."
"Is he okay? His face and leg looked messed up."
"I stopped the bleeding and I don’t think the leg is too bad. He just landed awkwardly when the guy threw him."
I nod and make to pass Morgan, but he places a hand on my arm. "Soon I need to talk to you and explain more why I reacted how I did."
Of the three guys, this one looks the most human if you ignore the cray tattoos, and his intense look could charm his fair share of girls if he perfected the smoulder. Well, that and if he dropped the attitude. Morgan’s correct about their shared bond, but the more time that passes, I see this isn’t only between the three of them, but the four of us. We're all people surrounded by walls built from suspicion and past hurt. Is this vulnerability something that could bond us in an unlikely way, or will this stand in our way?
"I half-understand, but I'd like to know more. Thank you."
When Morgan's face transforms into shock at my calm, measured response I burst out laughing at him. His face morphs further into disbelief.
"Was it the 'thank you' that confused you?" I ask.
"Yeah. And the implied forgiveness."
"Don't go too far now. I never said that."
There's something freeing about a smile—from both of us—and Morgan nods. I wait for him to elaborate, but he says nothing before he walks away.
The bathroom door is ajar from Morgan leaving, and I push it open. Dex sits on the bath edge, lower half wrapped in a blue towel, as he studies the bruises and grazes on his left shoulder.
Man, this guy has shoulders broader than anyone I've seen before. A hard, muscular back. Freaking huge biceps. The works. I bet Dex could crush a man even when not shifted.
I draw in a breath, but not at his undeniable hotness. Dex as Spot is one solid colour, edged by flames sometimes, but Dex's back is marred by livid red marks. Some have faded to lighter pink; others are fresher and red.
I don't think I saved Dex from the Horsemen—I bet the mad god unknowingly helped Dex when he opened his portal. This guy escaped something much worse than the life he now has in a new world filled with enemies.
My eyes drop lower.
The towel only reaches halfway down his huge thighs.
"Well, I'm glad I didn't walk in at the moment you shifted back."
Dex looks up, eyes still holding more fire than the orange flecks they have when he’s a man. "Have you brought me some clothes?"
His gruffness pisses me off. Dex holds out a hand and when I don't respond, he beckons in a dismissive way. On the way between the kitchen and this room, I'd rehearsed the speech where I’d express gratitude for his behaviour. I planned to apologise for my overreaction, considering I'd asked him to help, and that's exactly what Dex tried to do. Help.
But faced with the sullen mouth and fucked-off expression, my hackles rise as readily as his did earlier.
I drop the clothes to the floor. "You're welcome." I turn on my heel, but Dex jumps to his feet and pushes the door closed. His large hand rests above me, broad biceps close to my face.
"Wait." Dex’s heat radiates towards me but sends chills through at the same time. I turn to face him and protest.
Bad idea.
He's close. Too close. I could cope with his proximity in the library, but there was less naked skin on show then. This recently shifted guy is the intense, raw Dex. A cut slices his cheek, already half healed, and regret seizes me again.
Swallowing, I crouch down away from that biteable bicep. I pull a large, unsexy pair of blue track pants from the clothes on the floor. Unsexy is helpful right about now.
I tip my head upwards and hold them out. "I hope they fit."
Omigod. My face is now at his crotch level. I attempt to ignore the dark hair trailing downwards, including the v-shape pointing to remind me how impressive he is under that towel.
Hell, Syv. Control yourself.
He peers at the track pants. "Your fae friend isn't skinny, but I’m larger than him. These will be tight on me."
"I know, but—"
Dex grabs them and turns his back. Any chance to remain coherent drops away at the same time as his towel does.
Holy crap.
I should walk away now.
I shift my gaze from his tight backside to his scars. I want to reach out, touch him, ask him... "What happened to your back, Dex?"
Dex pauses for a second and lifts his head. I wait for a response, but none comes. He pulls on the pants and when he turns back his darkened gaze meets mine. "I thought putting pants on might help. You look like you want to eat me."
I nod in a stupefied manner. "I mean, no. I won’t."
"I can't believe how you reacted to me earlier. Don't you understand how much I care?"
Through his anger I see what the real issue is here. Hurt. "Thanks for trying to help, Dex. I’m sorry I accused you of wanting to hurt me." I swallow and touch his cheek. "And I’m sorry for hurting you. I panicked. You’re bloody huge and scary when you shift."
He moves his face closer to mine. "I might have saved your life tonight."
His breath strokes my face, the strange alluring scent from his body washing over me. I fight down saying what I really think, but my mouth always wins.
"And I’m thanking you and apologising, which is rare. But I don't need rescuing."
"Everybody needs rescuing sometimes, Syv. You rescued me once."
"I know, but—"
"Why?" he interrupts. "What’s the big deal you have with letting people help you? Nobody thinks you’re weak because you need help sometimes. Look at the people you’re with. We assist each other in surviving."
"I’m fine with you helping me. But let me stay in control of my life."
Dex shakes his head and hair settles on his cut cheek. "Nobody is totally in control of their lives. I learned that."
"I am." Or I thought I was.
"Do you believe in fate?"
"Fate?" I rub my head. "Not really."
I’m shocked when he winds an arm around my waist and pulls me against his hard body. "We came together for a reason. What were the chances you’d be around the day I crossed into this world? I belong to you now, Syv, and you belong to me."
I tense against his words. "I told you before, Dex, no alpha bullshit, thanks."
His arm tightens, the strength annoying and arousing at the same time. "I know you won't allow yourself to belong to one person, but a part of you is mine. The moment you stepped up and protected me from the Horsemen is the moment our lives fused. I've told you—I owe you. I'll protect you."
My mouth and throat dry. Nobody ever looked at me as if I’m central to everything. The words spoken by this gruff, overbearing man sound strange, despite his earnest tone. But there’s more behind his words—deeper, darker thoughts I sense from his growing grip. Whatever Dex says about protecting me, a man with his primal side couldn't give without taking too.
I place my palm on his smooth chest, surprised by the heat. He grabs my fingers and crushes them, and I'm immobile against him, a vulnerability I hate. The heat rushes through me as his fingers touch my face. I swear, I won’t be able to stop myself touching Dex if he doesn't stop and let me go.
"Tonight," he says in a harsh tone. "I almost walked in there, to pick you up and carry you over my shoulder, but the fucking dog took over."
I suppress a laugh. "Yeah, he ripped my clothes. Look at my jacket!"
Dex unzips my hoodie
and drags a sleeve over my arm. "I'll buy you a new one."
"Thanks." Dex roughly yanks at the other sleeve and I watch as he pulls it away from my arm. "Wow, just tear my clothes off, why don’t you?"
He snaps his head up and the primal Dex is more than the colour of his irises—his pupils now darken. I stare back and my heart thumps. Did I just give him an invitation?
My skin goose-bumps as he drops the hoodie to the floor, eyes still on mine. I’d grip his shirt to remind myself to stay calm, but he isn’t wearing one.
"Do you know how hard it was to stay hidden from you? To watch you and want to step into your life?" he says in a gruff tone.
"Why didn’t you?"
"At first, because I didn’t want to frighten you. Then, I saw you with the Horsemen and that frightened me." I blink back at his admission as his rough fingertips touch my injured cheek. "Then you stepped into my world. The fierce and beautiful girl who I’ve protected without her knowledge allowed me into her life."
"You should’ve told me the day I met you as Dex." We’re closer than we were in the library and my skin almost touches his. My shoulders. His chest. The heat glows from him and adds to the buzz of awareness between us.
Dex moves his fingers to my lips. "And if I had, what then? I asked Cillian and Morgan not to tell you. I didn’t want you to only see me as the creature you first met."
"I wouldn’t, Dex. I’m teasing when I call you Spot."
His full mouth twists into a smile. "Spot."
"You can’t deny who you are, just like I can’t." My lips move against his fingers as I talk, the abrasive tip sending shivers through. "I would never judge you. I’m not in the position to judge anybody."
Dex drops his hand. "Are you scared of me?" With each word and each second we stand like this, the more brusque he sounds.
"If I tried to fight you right now, I would be."
"I would never hurt you, Syv." He speaks the words with his lips close to mine, the tiny gap between our mouths barely there.
"I know." As our skin touches when he shifts closer, I know I’m lost.
If Dex shoved me against the wall, roughly kissed me and covered my body with those large hands, I would've found this easier. Instead, the warm mouth meets mine with a softness that shocks me into returning his kiss.
