Chapter 4
HOTEL HOLE UP
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Windex and bleach hit my nose before consciousness fully did. A stiff blanket scraped my arms when I shifted, and water stains stared back at me from the ceiling.
Clawing out of drug-fueled sleep was like stumbling through a maze.
First was the sensory onslaught—was that stale cigarette smoke lingering on the sheets?
Next was swimming through syrupy thoughts to remember why I was here.
Another arrest, or perhaps involuntary commitment?
Wait … been there, done that, burnt the place down.
My chest tightened. More important than where I was was where they were—Orson, Nemo, and Baz.
My gaze swung around the room, noting two full beds, a couple of lamps, and a large window with the curtains pulled snug.
Baz was sitting at a small table, mask off and reading from a book.
Orson was in the customary cuck chair found at every hotel.
His fingers were steepled while he stared at the wall.
Nemo sat on the bed beside mine, glaring at Orson as if considering the best limb to rip off.
The tightness in my chest didn’t lift. Shit, waking up anxious was the worst way to start the day. It collected in my gut like sour meat, making me irritable and bitey.
The minutes dragged on, no one speaking as my thoughts slowly congealed.
It wasn’t hard to know why I was anxious.
It wasn’t the asylum burning to the ground, or the looming threat of being hunted down and dragged back in iron chains.
It wasn’t concern over the health, safety, and sanity of my men.
It wasn’t even the hunger gnawing at my gut, threatening to make me turn on everyone I loved.
It was because no walls were keeping my men trapped inside with me. What if they tried to get away from me? That wasn’t acceptable. Not in any situation. Fuck, what was I going to do?
A few more deep breaths brought me a delicious realization: Nemo and Baz were helpless.
They needed me whether they liked it or not.
And Orson? Well, he’d needed me long before the asylum—back when we were playing the parts of therapist and patient.
Not because of anything as flimsy as sexual desire, but because without me, he’d die in sunlight.
My head fell back onto the pillow, my eyes closing.
There was no better relief than understanding my relationships were locked in with something simple but binding: basic need.
Maybe I could build a comfortable basement to keep them in.
Then no one needed to worry about silly things like leaving me.
How hard could it be to take care of three grown murderers?
A few meals, a couple of video games, an occasional victim. What more could they need?
Orson moved towards me, smiling softly. His fingers brushed my cheek before he bent down and pressed his mouth to mine. Perhaps, they didn't need the basement room right away. My fingers slid through Orson’s black hair. He pulled back, and purple eyes held mine.
“I’m going out to grab some things,” he said.
“And it’s daylight.” He needed me. That was even better than sex.
I trailed my fingers down my neck, teasing the vein he wanted.
When his teeth sank in, I sighed, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer.
Orson swallowed, and I gave a low groan of pleasure.
Yes, Orson, drink. Remember why you’ll always need me. Why you’ll always come back. You’re addicted in more ways than one.
When he pulled away, the tension began to knot my muscles again. Why couldn’t we all stay inside each other in one way or another at all times? Better yet, why couldn’t I have access to their minds? But no, telepathy wasn’t in my wheelhouse. How inconvenient.
“Where are you going?” My words were soft around the edges. I was still tired. Tired and hungry.
“I need to get rid of the vehicle we brought here, find a new one, and get a few supplies. I’m not going far,” he said, pressing a small kiss to my lips before pulling away.
“You drugged us.” I yawned.
“As much good as that did,” he grumbled. “I’m developing a better plan. No more drugging. I don’t have any more.”
“What’s the plan?” I asked. His eyes slid to Nemo before coming back to me.
“We’ll discuss it later. These chores will take me a while. Why don’t you spend some time with these two.” I looked at him curiously. When had he ever felt the need to make such a suggestion?
“Okay.” I drew out the word suspiciously, my eyes narrowing. “You are coming back, right?”
“I would never leave you behind,” he promised.
“That’s good, because if you ever tried to leave me, I wouldn’t let you,” I said. He stilled for a moment before recovering with a smile.
“Yes, of course, Bree.”
“I’d find you,” I told him. “I don’t care how good you think you can hide. You can’t hide from me,” I said. He sighed.
“Bree, I’m coming back. Why don’t you explain some things to these two while I’m gone. They have no idea how to survive out here on their own. That’s all I was implying.”
I made a sound of disgust. “They don’t need to survive on their own. They have me.”
“Well … isn’t that nice. I’ll be back,” he assured again before slipping out the door. I saw a flash of broken asphalt outside before we were sealed back in. I sat up and stretched.
“What is Baz reading?” I asked Nemo.
“Baz is reading a series of love letters,” Baz responded.
“Love letters?” Nemo asked. “Isn’t it about Supra and the asylum?”
“It’s Damien D’Bolique’s journal,” Baz said.
“Diabolic? Who’s that?” I asked.
“According to Levi, it’s the man who not only built Verfallen, but also made Supra, the evil corporation behind it all. Mwha ha ha,” Baz laughed theatrically. “A real evil mastermind.”
“And he wants Baz,” Nemo said. “This is what we need to be focused on. But who knows what Orson cares about.” He waved towards the door. Surprise, surprise: Nemo and Orson weren’t getting along. That wasn’t new, but Nemo’s concern about Baz immediately put me on edge.
“He wants Baz?” I asked in confusion. “Is this about what Zero warned us about?”
“Something like that, at least,” Baz sighed. He pushed the journal away from himself. “But this doesn’t make any sense.”
“What doesn’t?” I asked.
“This isn’t a super villain,” he said, motioning towards the journal. “He’s not even supernatural. From what I can tell, he’s human.”
“That can’t be right,” Nemo said.
“Damien was born powerless in a family of witches. They rejected him.” His green and red eyes flipped up to us for a moment. “Anyway, Levi thought this journal would help us know who we’re up against, but it’s all about Damien falling in love. Apparently, he was a shifter’s mate.”
Nemo snorted. “Rejected by family and a shifter’s mate. Sounds familiar.” Baz slowly looked up at him. The subject of Baz being Nemo’s mate, too, was still an awkward subject.
“Anyway.” Baz pulled the journal closer, pressed a finger to the paper, and began reading it slowly.
“Last night, you were tired. It makes your voice low and breathy. It’s my favorite sound in the world.
When I smiled at you, you went all red—he meant blushing,” Baz corrected.
“It keeps going on like that, but his partner isn’t a normal shifter.
Get this, he has a magical coat he puts on and takes off. ”
“A coat?” Nemo asked.
“Like a second skin. It transforms him. Damien hasn’t seen it.
They had a fight about it two pages back.
” Baz flipped backwards a moment. “Damien said they’re family because he’s his mate so he should see it.
He feels like he isn't trusted. Anyway, I’m learning more about this shifter, Damien's bijou, than Damien. He’s describing everything about this guy.
And I mean everything. I could pick Bijou's cock out of a lineup, if for some reason his cock was in a lineup. Anyway, it was as if all Damien did was watch Bijou. A little creepy, honestly. He’s completely obsessed. ”
“There’s nothing creepy about that,” I said. Baz and Nemo gave each other the look. It was the one reserved for when I was saying something charming. Or charmingly insane. Whatever. I sighed and rolled my eyes, stretching my arms above my head.
“I’m still tired. Whatever Orson gave us made me groggy.” I eyed them both. “How long have you two been awake?”
“Before we got here,” Nemo said.
“Oh, did you two fall asleep?” Baz joked.
“You didn’t?” I kicked the scratchy blanket off, giving it a glare of disapproval.
“I did for a moment. I was surprised it worked at all.” Baz mindlessly flipped through the journal.
“Baz, what exactly are your powers? I thought it was just poisonous—”
“Venemous,” he mumbled.
“Venemous touch,” I said. “Why didn’t you mention you’re immune to fire?” He shut the book and looked up at the two of us. His long, emerald hair was pulled away from his angular face. A red eye and a green eye flipped between the two of us.
“Didn’t seem important. Also, how should I know the extent of my powers?
” He asked, baffling me. Despite escaping a burning building, he looked freshly showered, but I knew that was a lie.
Baz had an odd way of looking and smelling clean, no matter the situation.
A quirk I was beginning to suspect was something more.
Was it the venom? Or maybe his phoenix ancestry? Lucky bastard.
“You have vertical slit pupils sometimes,” I said. “Did you know?”
“Yes, I’m aware of the eye thing.” Baz slipped a gloved finger into his thin, black turtleneck, running it across his neck to loosen it.
“Night vision, then,” Nemo said.
“What?” Baz asked.