9. Kiron
I glared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
Sina.
My mind kept circling back to her no matter how hard I tried to shove the thought away. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Dreaming about her. Fantasizing about claiming her. It's been days now, and I was getting fucking restless waiting for Nik to do something about her.
Every day that passed, keeping my distance felt wrong.
Even if patience was the logical answer.
Logic had nothing to do with the way every instinct in my body screamed to go after her.
My dragon was pacing so hard beneath my skin it made my muscles twitch.
No matter what I did I couldn’t seem to burn off this pressure clawing through my chest. Flying every day until exhaustion barely kept him leashed.
I was afraid if Nik didn’t do something—and soon—I’d do something stupid.
Like hunt down a red-haired spitfire and steal her away.
And the worst part?
I was starting to forget why I wasn’t doing exactly that.
Rafe was usually the one that helped keep my beast in line but he had been MIA since the warehouse.
He always felt things stronger than the rest of us.
I wondered what he picked up from her that night.
What his thoughts were on all of this. But it wasn’t like I could ask him.
Rafe was in his room painting or downtown at his art studio.
I didn’t have the heart to disturb him. Or burden him with my beast. I was pretty sure Sina was affecting him too.
It had been three days since the warehouse and he hadn’t shifted into his bear to run alongside me, not once.
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my beard. There was no way I was fucking sleeping tonight.
My dragon shoved against his restraints again, pressure building behind my eyes until a dull headache began to form. I grit my teeth against the beast’s strength .
I understood why Nik was pissed but I was fucking losing it. Yes Harlow had pushed too hard. The idiot had used compulsion to pry Sina open before she was ready. And on that point at least, Nik and I agreed.
Harlow had gone about bringing her into the hive all wrong. Instead of drawing her closer, the compulsion spooked her. I should have stepped in sooner. I should have shut that shit down before it got that far. Instead, I’d sat there watching. Completely captivated by her.
The way her cheeks flushed when she got angry or lustful.
Watching the fire spark in those green eyes when she was being sarcastic.
She’d fought back instead of folding like most humans did when faced with a room full of predators.
She had the prettiest blush. Like fire against porcelain. My little spitfire.
I groaned. My fangs ached painfully beneath my gums. I needed blood and something to eat. But we’d practically eaten all the food Nik had stocked in the fridge. And with him gone all week the options were limited.
I was honestly surprised he’d spent all this time with Eli. That wasn’t normal for him. Especially not when the hive was this unsettled. He liked control too much to disappear unless he was avoiding something.
I knew exactly what.
Sina.
If there was one thing I knew about my alpha it was that he didn’t handle his own feelings well. I rolled onto my side with a quiet snarl and stared at the dark wall. If he was here, I’d shake him until he stopped pretending this was strategy instead of fear.
Whatever they were doing over there, it wasn’t just research.
Anyone with eyes could see that. Nik went still around that raven in a way he never did with anyone else.
Calm. Anchored. Like his wolf finally shut the hell up.
Nik would never admit it, but he was in love with that fucking bird and terrified of what it meant.
Lucky bastard got to run from his feelings. While the rest of us hid.
I grabbed my phone to see if Harlow had replied to my last two messages. But the read sign glared back at me.
You alive?
Where the fuck are you!?!
Are you seriously fucking ignoring me?
Asshole
*eye-roll emoji*
[Read]
I huffed a breath. At least one question was answered. He was alive. Unfortunately for him, because I was going to kill him when he got home. I shot off one more text for good measure.
Don’t do anything stupid.
My dragon shifted under my skin, restlessness shoving at me through our bond. He hated waiting. Hated that I kept telling him no without offering anything in return. It went against his nature not to go to our mate. Not to claim her in every way.
‘Go to her.’
Images flashed of her pinned beneath me. Fuck . I squeezed my eyes shut. I shouldn’t entertain the idea of forcing her, but my dragon didn’t see it that way.
I won’t fucking take anything she doesn’t willingly give.
Ignoring me, he kept fantasizing about her. He wasn't convinced she wouldn’t welcome me .
Unwilling to entertain that for a second longer, with a shaky breath, I sat up.
Sleep wasn’t happening. Not tonight. Probably not any night soon.
I swung my legs out of bed before he decided to argue harder or push for control, and headed downstairs.
The house was quiet in that tense, coiled way.
With both the brothers gone it was fucking lonely in this big ass house.
This was what the hive looked like without an anchor.
Too much space. Too much silence. Everyone coping in their own way, none of it fitting together cleanly like a hive was supposed to.
Instincts told me that.
Low music pulsing drifted from under Rafe's door. So he was home then. Warm light spilled out into the dark hallway. I paused without meaning to. He was painting again. I didn’t need to look to know that either.
Rafe always painted when things got too loud inside his head.
When he’d absorbed too much of the rest of us and needed to separate what was his from what wasn’t. Painting was how he bled it off.
I didn’t like bothering him when he was in his studio. None of us did. When Rafe painted, we gave him space. It was the only way he could shut out the constant flood of emotions that came with being an empath. Especially when the rest of us were spiraling.
But I was restless. Wired. And honestly, I needed someone. The house felt too quiet, my thoughts too loud, and I was starting to lose my grip on both. Selfish or not, I needed to talk to someone before I went completely fucking crazy.
I knocked before I could talk myself out of it. When he didn’t answer, I pushed the door open a crack.
The smell hit first. Paint thinner. Sharp.
Chemical. It burned the back of my throat and cut through everything else in the room.
The studio was a fucking mess. Canvases haphazardly leaned against walls, stacked on the floor, drying on every surface they could balance on. Some were finished. Some half-ruined.
All of them were her .
Sina, again and again. Different moods. Different versions. Anger in hard lines. Fear pulled tight around her shoulders. Defiance sharp enough to cut. One that looked… like lust . I swallowed thickly. It made my dragon react.
I forced my eyes away to Rafe's broad shoulders hunched over his current work.
Her face filled the canvas, tilted upward toward the rain.
Her skin was dusted with freckles. Long lashes framing one visible green eye glassy and unfocused, staring up at nothing.
Tears tracked mascara down her cheeks. Her red hair was soaked, plastered to her pale skin in heavy strands.
Droplets of rain clung to her jaw, catching the light Rafe artfully painted.
Her mouth tilted down, pouty in a way that made me think about how soft they might feel.
My heart thudded once. Hard .
Some people look ugly when they cry. Broken. Messy . Not Sina. The way Rafe portrayed her, she looked hauntingly beautiful. It made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t like.
Was this why Rafe had trapped himself in his studio for several days now? Trying to paint the emotions he’d felt leaking off Sina. Capture it on canvas. All to try and make sense of her before she swallowed him whole?
Being an empath wasn’t a gift. It was a fucking burden.
If this was the version of her living in my head, I’d be losing my fucking mind. More than I already was.
I took my friend in properly then. His shoulders were hunched up around his ears, tension ridged into his posture. Paint streaked his face. His long hair was pulled back into a messy knot, strands slipping free .
He was already as obsessed with Sina as I was.
My little spitfire.
“You hungry?” I asked over the low hum of music. “I’m heading downstairs. Thought I’d grab something. Blood. Food. Whatever.”
Rafe shook his head without turning.
The rejection was small. Still, it landed wrong .
“Okay, I’ll bring you a sandwich and a bottle of blood,” I said, shoving down how much his rejection hurt. The last thing I wanted was to force him to deal with my emotions too. He didn’t look back. Just kept painting, slow and steady, like the world outside that room didn’t exist.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Rafe didn’t mean anything by it. He never did. But something sharp and unwelcome twisted in my chest anyway, like a reminder that even in a hive, everyone carried their shit alone sometimes. I shoved the feeling aside, where it belonged.
“Alright. I’ll be around if you need me.”
Then I turned and headed for the door.