Chapter 2
June
Franklin snarled at the wall in the office. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He'd always been calm, controlled, and clear-headed, but more often than not lately, he lost his temper. Every question made him want to bite the head off the person who'd asked it.
He feared he was going insane.
"Boss?"
He whirled around, not having heard Elvin approaching. It was another thing. He was distracted. All the time. Maybe there was something wrong with his brain.
"Yes?" He spoke through gritted teeth, and Elvin held up his palms in a placating manner.
"Christmas sweater psycho is back."
Franklin's feet were moving toward the door before his brain could follow. He forced himself to stop next to Elvin. "Problem?"
"Nah, just figured you might want to know."
He did. He didn't know why, but he did want to know.
When he glanced at Elvin, he couldn't read his expression.
They walked through the corridor together, entering the serving area next to the bar. It was a weekday evening, so only a few people were enjoying an after-work beer.
The man occupied the same table as last time. He looked tired. More tired than he had back then. The sweater he wore today was red with a fit, tattooed Santa in a muscle shirt and the text: Big Nick Energy written in an arch above.
Franklin snorted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The sensation was so foreign, he feared his body had forgotten how to show amusement.
Elvin was studying him with a crease between his brows. Franklin ignored him and focused on the man again, only to realize he was speaking to the empty air next to him.
Fuck.
"He was out of breath when he came in, as if he'd been running."
Running. In June. In a Christmas sweater. "Did he say anything?"
"Chann served him."
Franklin gave a short nod and walked between the tables in the direction of the man.
"I tried. You think I enjoy being locked up any more than you do?
" The man sounded exhausted, and Franklin slowed his steps, hoping against hope he was on the phone and not talking to thin air.
Heat washed through him, and his entire body buzzed with the need to touch the man, but he slowed his steps before he got too close.
"Evening."
The man startled and almost knocked his drink over. He managed to catch it in time and looked up at Franklin with wide eyes. "Sorry."
Franklin frowned. What was he sorry about?
"Everything to your satisfaction?" Franklin had no idea why he asked. A drink was a drink.
"Eh..." He blushed, then he looked at the empty seat next to him, and Franklin realized he'd pulled out the chair as if someone was sitting there. A chill traveled his spine.
Before either of them could speak again, the same crowd of three who'd taken the man away last time rushed through the door.
"No." The man whined like a child, and while Franklin wanted to grab him and run away, take him home and never let him go, he didn't move a muscle. He wasn't sure of the man's mental capacity. Shit, had they served alcohol to someone who wasn't...all there?
The group approached rapidly, and Franklin was frozen in indecision. He wanted to snarl at anyone who dared approach this man--his man--but...What if they were his carers? His heart cracked, and he took a shuddering breath.
His mate. He was almost certain it was what he was. He inhaled. The man's scent was mixed with everyone's and everything else's in this place, but the faint trickle he got was enough to warm him all over and make the black cloud that had clung to him this last couple of months disperse.
Momentarily.
When the woman spoke, thunder rolled through him.
"Axar." Her voice was sharp enough to cut.
Axar? He didn't think he'd ever heard the name before, but psychics were weird, so why wouldn't they name their kids in the same fashion? He studied the woman, and he believed she was related to Axar.
"No." Axar looked at the empty seat again, and Franklin took a step back. His soul recoiled at his retreat, but what was he to do?
"Stop this nonsense. You need to be in your room."
The woman's voice rubbed Franklin the wrong way, but he wasn't sure if it was his wolf messing with his mind or if he had a real reason to be concerned. His wolf was convinced the man was theirs, but Franklin couldn't act on it.
Something was wrong.
The woman nodded at the same man who'd put his hands on Axar the last time, and he stepped forward and grabbed his arm. A growl vibrated deep in Franklin's chest, but he took another step back.
"Sorry, bro." The man's words were barely audible over the surrounding sounds, but Franklin had good hearing. He glanced at the woman, but he didn't think she'd heard the man speak. Then he tugged at Axar, who followed, as pliant as someone could be.
The hairs at the back of Franklin's neck wanted to stand, and his wolf let out a warning growl in his mind. Axar's eyes spoke of struggle, but his motions were calm and controlled.
Something was definitely wrong.
Franklin watched them as they reached the door, and exactly like last time, Axar looked over his shoulder and begged Franklin to save him with his eyes while his body walked out of there as if it was what he wanted to do.
A shuddering breath left him, and he closed his eyes while his insides warred.
"You okay?"
He snapped his eyes open and looked at Elvin. "I don't know. Something about them rubs me the wrong way."
"They're psychics."
He gave a slow nod. "Yeah, but...can one psychic force another to do something against their will?"
"Eh...I assume blackmail is universal."
"No, I meant, force their bodies to go against their mind's will."
Elvin pursed his lips. "Who knows what they're capable of."
True. He sighed and rubbed his chest. "If he comes back, let me know."
Elvin clapped his shoulder and walked back toward the bar.
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