Not Quite Whole

by Kaye Draper

  Sam ran a hand through their black hair, and Theo couldn’t help but glance at them, watching the overhead light spark on the shimmery silver and blue streaks that were interwoven in the thick, straight strands. He could recall too well how soft Sam’s hair was, how smooth all that perfect, flawless skin had been under his hands.

  He cleared his throat and pulled out his notepad with his to-do list. Gods, Theo, get a grip man. You’re not some hungry monster.

  “Yeah,” the hunter said, coming to hike one lean hip against the corner of Theo’s desk, oblivious to the ogling, or how much Theo would love to grab them and stretch that strong, lithe, slinky body out over his desk so he could fuck them into next week, despite all his guilt and shame. “I want to take the Rover. There’s a shitty little shack town a few miles out where all kinds of people stop to refuel, get wasted, or get laid. I bet we can pick up a clue there. Carlyle had to have passed it at some point. And I bet he sticks out like a sore thumb to people who aren’t spoiled, rich asshats.”

  Theo sighed and risked looking at his hunter, meeting frosty blue-white eyes that made him lose all common sense. Shack town? His true nature was clamoring inside his head, insisting they keep their mate in their sight at all times.

  “Whatever you think best, Viceroy,” he said in as even a voice as he could manage.

  Sam stared at him for a beat longer, their expression unreadable. Then those slanted, cat-like eyes narrowed ever so slightly over the hunter’s high cheekbones. Their voice was flat. “Great. Thanks.” Sam stood and headed toward the door, clearly pissed-off for some reason that Theo couldn’t even begin to fathom. Maybe they were just that disgusted at the memory of what had happened in this office a few days before.

  Clearly, Sam regretted their impulsive decision to offer Theo physical comfort. And Theo couldn’t think of any way to apologize that wouldn’t end up with him gutted and bleeding out on his office floor.

  A long-suffering sigh yanked Theo out of his moping. “You could just say you worry when they go out into the wastelands,” Angel said, raising one silver brow at Theo.

  Theo waved a hand dismissively, making a scoffing noise. “The last thing Sam wants to hear is how concerned I am for their wellbeing. A boss doesn’t get all overprotective whenever an employee does their job. Ignoring that boundary the first time was a mistake. I won’t do it again.”

  Angel came around the desk, shoved Theo’s chair back, and slid onto Theo’s lap, a precarious situation, since the long-limbed siren was larger than Theo, and the chair wasn’t meant to take the weight. Gold eyes studied Theo intently, and he felt the warm, breathless pull he always felt around the ethereal cur. “You’re one of the most stubborn idiots I know,” Angel informed Theo with a lift if his perfect, aristocratic nose. “The other one just walked out that door.”

  Theo let his head fall back against the chair. “I’m trying to make things right and give Sam their space,” he said tiredly. “I regret ever laying hands on Sam. I knew full well they didn’t want anything more than a quick fuck. And that I’d always want more.”

  Angel snorted and tugged on one of Theo’s curls, messing up his carefully styled hair and nearly dislodging a feather. “Sam’s right. You’re a bird-brain.” He sighed, his posture relaxing as he attempted to let go of whatever tension he had been holding. “But it’s none of my business.”

  The siren leaned in and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Theo’s lips. Pulling back, he stood. “I’m going with Sam. I’ll magic and enchant all the thugs into submission if Sam can’t scare them into behaving. The cat will be fine, I’ll make sure of it.”

  Theo sighed. Now both his mates were going off into danger. But at least he could tell this one what he was thinking without fear of angering him. “Be careful,” he said, leveling a stern look at Angel. Then he let his expression soften. “I love you.”

  Angel smiled back. “I love you too. I’ll look out for our other mate.”

  Then the siren ghosted out of the office on silent feet.

  Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Angel was of the firm belief that they all belonged together. But the siren had sworn not to interfere with Sam and Theo’s relationship, not to push or influence them in any way. So far, he had kept to his word, with the exception of a few pointed looks and exasperated sighs. But Theo knew it was killing the other man to stand back and give them space to destroy themselves.

  Theo put his head in his hands and stared at the list of work he had to do. Calls to the city councilmembers, a review of the local news articles that Jules had put together for him so he could monitor the current political environment both here in Westhold and in the other neighboring cities since his big reveal, a phone conference with the leader of Golding and his staff, plus all the other day-to-day things involved in running a city. Theo had things to do that didn’t revolve around his messed-up love life. But he knew that once Carlyle was taken care of, he was going to have to deal with this whole mess, one way or another. He had broken his word to Sam, and he’d probably lose the hunter as a result.

  Theo wished he had better command of his magic at the moment. He’d really like to set something on fire right about now.

  Chapter 8

  The little shack town just off the crumbling road that led to Golding wasn’t a memorable place. Just like any other shack town, it was comprised mostly of cobbled together buildings and shelters made of stone, boards, petrified wood, and whatever else the desperate denizens could scrape together to hide from the harsh, gritty wind and the roving herds of monsters. But one thing set this place apart from the others like it that sprang up from time to time—the bar in the middle. The shabby gray building was made of petrified logs that, according to the history books I’d read in Theo’s office, had once been towering kings in the massive forests that had supposedly covered the pacific coast.

  A weird melancholy swept over me every time I came across the massive remains of the old trees. What had forests looked like back then? Had the trees really been taller than the tallest buildings in Westhold? Had the deep shadows of the wild places really been filled by quiet, harmless creatures that weren’t constantly starving for prey?

  I shook myself. It didn’t matter now. All of that was as dead as the eyes of the people we passed. Most of them were outlaws, people who had done something bad enough or stupid enough to get kicked out of more civilized places. The rest of them were just batshit crazy—people who called themselves anti-establishment or survivalists, but in actuality were just dumber than your average dumb ass.

  No one chose to live like this unless they were brain damaged.

  Angel paced at my side, his footsteps silent and his gold eyes watchful. He was probably tasting the subtle energies of the place in a way I couldn’t, assessing. I had tried to make him stay home, but he was just as stubborn as my own cranky ass. So here we were.

  I stopped in front of the door to the bar, feeling eyes on us from the nearby hovels. “You’ve got your blades?”

  He huffed at me impatiently. “Sam. It’s not like I haven’t sweet-talked criminals and low-lives before. I did manage to get by all on my little lonesome before my big, scary sabertoothed cat started protecting my virtue.”

  I growled. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

  He followed me through the door with a whispered, “You mean don’t do anything you’d do?”

  I paused for a second to let my eyes adjust to the dim interior. It was stuffy, and the combination of smells was like getting hit in the face with a two-by-four—woodsmoke, burnt food, sweaty bodies, the reek of cheap tobacco. I resisted the urge to paw at my poor nose. Squaring my shoulders, I walked to the rickety looking plank that served as a bar, Angel a silent, graceful presence at my side.

  No one here could mistake either of us as regular customers. We were both dressed in subtle, muted shades and simple clothes. But our clothing wasn’t threadbare and worn. I had guns and knives strapped to me like they were my favorite fashion acc
essory. And Angel was dripping with power. “I’ll buy a round for everyone in here,” I told the rheumy-eyed bartender, my voice even and my eyes narrowed. “But don’t bother pouring anything for me and my friend.”

  Angel’s magic reached out and caressed the paunchy guy, coaxing him to go along with what we wanted. He blinked at us, his face wary, but in that tired, resigned sort of way you saw in people who’d lost the fight with life. “What ya want?”

  I smiled, showing a slip of fang as I showed the guy the shiny gold badge Theo insisted I carry at all times. It had my name and my position engraved on it, along with the words “My voice and right hand.” It was ridiculous. But you use the tools you’ve got, I suppose. As viceroy of Westhold, I spoke and acted for Theo when he wasn’t there to handle a situation. We weren’t in Westhold anymore, but a piddling little shack town like this sure as shit didn’t want to piss off the ruler of a city that had its own police force and hunters.

  “Carlyle Featherton,” I said quietly. “Rich guy. Probably an asshole. Headed away from Westhold like the hounds of hell were after him. Sound familiar?”

  The bar tender shrugged. “Maybe. We get nothing but assholes in here. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

  I kept my gun in my right hand while I fished out a folded stack of paper currency. Laying it on the bar, I shoved it toward the asshat. His eyes widened. He probably thought I’d offer him the stamped coins he could only spend in Westhold. Paper money was rare. He could spend it anywhere in the US.

  His grubby hand darted out and grabbed the stack of bills, tucking it away in the pocket of his stained pants without even counting it or checking it for forgery. “Came through here singing like a fucking bird about how great he was and how he was going to rule Westhold one day so we should treat him like royalty. He rounded up a bunch of the rabble hereabouts and got promises that they’d join him when he came back to take over and save Westhold from the fiend. Then he left.” He shrugged. “Knew he’d bring fucking trouble looking for him. Headed to Stonefield, far as I could figure. It’s the only place around here that would be big enough to keep his lordship in comfort but small enough for a bug with no spine to hide while he tries to round up more idiots for his highfalutin’ cause.”

  I laughed. That was great. Even a beaten-down, filth-covered bartender in the middle of a shack town thought this Carlyle guy was a spineless asswipe. I impulsively reached into my pocket again and poured a pile of Westhold coins onto the bar. “Thanks for making my day,” I said with a grin.

  The bartender blinked at me. “Get out of my bar. I can’t afford all the shit that’s gonna get broken. They’ll be coming for you, the ones he sweet-talked into believing his bullshit.”

  I sighed. “Sure thing, Hoss.”

  Then I turned and walked away, conscious of every set of eyes that watched us from the corner, judging the right time to jump us and steal everything we owned, right down to the clothes on our backs.

  “That was fun,” Angel commented as we stepped back out onto the street and into the overcast day that seemed glaringly bright in comparison to the inside of the bar.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said dryly. “And it’s about to get just downright fucking thrilling in a minute.”

  He sighed and slipped off his bracelets, releasing the mechanism that allowed them to unfold into a set of wooden-handled knives with curved blades. He flexed his long fingers as he gripped his knives, the blades curving over the backs of his hands. “You weren’t even trying to avoid a fight, were you?”

  I laughed. “Why would I? I’ve been wanting to gut someone for days now.”

  Then I spun, slashing my claws across the fat belly of the guy who was trying to sneak up behind me with a knife. He fell to the ground screaming, and I grinned. “It’s not mindless fiends. But it’s something.”

  Angel side-stepped a burly attacker with his usual quick grace and slashed the man across the eyes. Then he shook his head at me, the light glinting on his tight silver bun. “If you would have just let me use my magic, we could’ve been so quick and quiet.”

  I lifted my gun and put a couple bullets through a chick’s kneecaps before she could squeeze the trigger on her shotgun. “And how would anyone ever learn their lesson then?” I bit out as I took out another guy who thought he was being sneaky by coming in from a side alley between a cluster of shacks.

  It was cold-blooded. But this was what I was. A hunter turned hired gun. I worked for the ruler of Westhold. The people here knew Carlyle was trying to take Theo out, and they’d let him and stay in their town, let him pass right the fuck through without raising an alarm or doing anything to stop it. They couldn’t help that they were stuck out here. But they could have gotten themselves a hefty reward for their service to Westhold, maybe even some sort of pardon. They chose to shelter a guy who was attempting a coup instead. Bad choice. And some of them had agreed to help get rid of Theo. Even worse choice. Now I had to make an example of them so next time they’d make a better choice.

  And so all the other little fuckstick towns in the west would hear about how no one fucked over the sovereign of Westhold. Theo might want peace and acceptance. But sometimes you had to put out fires. If people thought they could get away with this, we’d be in trouble. Theo would be fending off constant attacks. Better this one hard lesson now than a lifetime of fighting.

  I might have had to explain all that to Fin and Emerson, if they were here. But they weren’t. Angel knew how the game was played, and that sometimes ruthlessness was the only option, the only thing some people would respect. He’d spent most of his life dancing around this kind of shit. He also knew I needed to kill things, and that I preferred those things be creatures who deserved it, at least to some degree. He didn’t judge me or question my actions, he just danced with me, sharing the burden of being the bad guy occasionally so the good guys could win.

  When we got back in the car, the only uninjured denizens of the shack town were the ones who’d try to work with Theo next time, rather than let him be assassinated. They also had a promise of needed supplies from Westhold to help soothe their fears.

  My hands shook as I started the Jeep.

  Angel leaned in and swiped a thumb across my cheekbone, wiping away a splatter of blood. “It won’t always be like this,” he whispered.

  I met his shimmering gold eyes. “I know. That’s why I do what I have to.”

  He gave me a sad smile. “Theo won’t like it. How cruel we were today.”

  I shrugged. We’d tried not to kill anyone unless we absolutely had to. Mostly we’d just wounded the ones who were part of the uprising and scared the living hell out of the rest. But some had died anyway. “Well,” I said tiredly, “blame me. He doesn’t like me much lately anyway, and he knew I was a killer when he hired me. He’s well used to me coming in covered in blood.”

  His graceful fingers curled around my jaw and pulled, forcing me to turn my head toward him. “Sam.”

  I gripped the steering wheel so hard it creaked, but I kept my voice flat. “Angel.”

  He sighed and brushed a soft kiss across my lips. His own luminescent skin was spotless, somehow—Angel could work without being stained by it. I wished I could do the same. “If you think Theo hasn’t killed or humiliated people to make a point, you’re giving him far too much credit,” the siren said tiredly, sitting back and running a hand through the bits of silver hair that had come loose from his bun. “And if you think he dislikes you, you’re fucking hopeless.”

  I chuckled darkly and pulled out onto the road before someone decided to come put a bullet through the windshield for fun. “We’re not talking about Theo’s feelings about me now.”

  He rolled his eyes and turned his head to stare at me. “Can we talk about my feelings then?” His hand landed on my thigh and squeezed. “I love you, Sam. I don’t care if you have to make a bloody point now and then. I’d love you even if you ate babies for breakfast, because you’re mine. My heart and my breath. That’s how
twisted I am, love.”

  He sighed. “But let’s be honest. You never kill just for fun. You never have, and you never will. You do it because you’re trying to help change things and keep people safe in the long run. You might not realize it, my darling, bloodthirsty cat—but you have morals, despite all the shit the world has put you through. You do the hard things even though it tears you up inside. His hand slid higher up my thigh, his knuckles brushing my dick through my pants. “And that makes me want to fuck you so hard we both forget our own names.”

  I swallowed. Breathing was suddenly as hard as my aching dick.

  I knew Angel was dangerous. Because he was just as fucked up as me.

  I’d never had rough, dirty sex in the cramped confines of my Jeep before, while covered in blood, self-loathing, and hope. And all while we were sitting in the middle of the fucking wastelands where shit could get deadly at any minute. But I was definitely a fan.

  Somewhere around my second screaming orgasm, Angel did what he did best—he met my darkness head-on and embraced it, holding me until I could find the light again. “Breathe, Sam,” he whispered as I gasped for air against his perfect chest, his heart thundering under my cheek. “Just keep breathing.”

  And he saved my life again.

  Chapter 9

  I made sure to keep my strides short as I walked down the hall toward the front of the mansion, matching my pace to Fin’s. He was still muttering under his breath, every other word some leprechaun word that I was willing to bet my best gun was a curse. My mind was still on my recent trip into the wastelands. I was pretty sure I knew where Carlyle was now, and what he was up to. But I wasn’t dumb enough to go after him with only Angel as backup. I might have done it, a while back—run in there, guns-a-blazing and fangs out and went after my prey with single-minded bloody focus and absolutely no fear for my own safety. But I was finally starting to understand that I had things to live for. People who might miss me if I went off and got myself killed. I forced myself to focus on what Fin was saying, then reached over without thinking and ruffled his red curls, earning myself a death glare.