Chapter 10 Shush Demons
Hazel
Nothing feels right.
I can’t see more than two feet ahead. My instincts are screaming danger, and my hands won’t stop shaking. Everything about this place feels wrong to the bone.
And then I see him.
Every ounce of fear drains at the sight of my mate.
He’s here. Dean’s here.
For a second, relief floods me until the rage in his eyes registers, and my stomach drops.
I’ve never seen that look on his face. Dean is always happy to see him. I could be making his life hell, but every time he looks at me, a smile breaks out that goes straight to my heart.
Dean storms toward me, rage burning in his eyes. Before I can react, his hand clamps around my throat, yanking me into him.
I freeze when his lips crash against mine. Too rough, too wrong.
Flashes of Tiberius doing the same make me freeze.
Hands on my throat. Forcing me up on my toes to show me how small I was.
I try to step back, but his grip tightens. My hands hit his chest. There’s no warmth to him, just cold, unyielding pressure that sends a shiver down my spine.
I shove at his chest, but he bites my bottom lip with a growl.
My shock fades when the pain takes hold. Something wet drips down my chin, falling on my wrist. He bit me. Hard enough to draw blood.
He growls into the kiss, arm locking around my waist, and it finally clicks.
The possession in his eyes, the violent moments.
This isn’t Dean.
I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have taken me so long. Dean would never treat me like this.
Tiberius.
I wrench my arms free and start clawing his arms, neck, face, anything I can reach, but nothing deters him. Dread coils in my gut.
He’s not going to stop.
His grip tightens, choking me, and I start panicking.
I twist my arm back, praying it works this time. I’ve never been able to hurt Tiberius in his astral form, but I shoved him earlier, and he felt it.
My fingers find the dagger strapped to my thigh. I don’t hesitate as I rip it free and drive the sharp blade into his stomach.
Tiberius stumbles back with a grunt, shock flashing across his face as his hand comes back red. His form ripples, the illusion melting until his real face stares back at me. The man I know and loathe.
The ire in his eyes finally feels familiar.
“You fucked up by pretending to be him. You’re nothing like my Dean.”
The shock on his face twists into rage as he lunges at me, but his magic fades, and I wake up before he can touch me.
My breathing turns erratic. I can’t feel my legs. My neck burns, and when I wipe my chin, my fingers come away bloody.
But I still laugh because I’m not the only one bleeding tonight. Somewhere deep underwater, Tiberius will be losing his mind because I was able to hurt him.
I should enjoy it, it’s the first time I’ve ever cut that bastard, but I’m seconds from a meltdown. I know the signs.
I need to get out. I need to run.
I shove the blankets off me and rush for the door, desperate to escape the tight grip around my chest, making it hard to breathe. When I open my door, my foot catches on something, and I stumble, barely catching myself before I fall.
The black spots in my vision fade, but I must still be dreaming, because Dean is sitting outside my room, staring up at me, worry etched across his face.
What is he doing here?
“You’re bleeding. Why are you bleeding?”
Dean throws the blanket off his shoulders and starts to stand, but something in me reacts first.
I don’t know what takes over me, but before he can move, I drop to the floor beside him. It takes me a full ten seconds to realize how close we are. Our shoulders are nearly touching, my hip pressed against his.
What the fuck am I doing? Why did I sit down? I should’ve run to my safe place and stayed there until the urge to claw my skin off passed.
Dean stiffens. I brace for him to pull away, but he doesn’t.
My heart stops hammering in my chest the second I touch him. Now I can’t move away even if I wanted to. Maybe I can pretend I don’t know what I’m doing because my head isn’t working right.
He turns his head slowly, brows pulling together in horror as he takes in the reminders Tiberius left behind.
“Nightmares don’t leave marks on your neck, Hazel.”
I drop my gaze to my hands, twisting my fingers together.
“Hazel, this isn’t a fucking game anymore!” He snarls. “Why didn’t you tell me the Shrimp King can hurt you like this?”
It takes me a second to realize he means Tiberius, and then I start laughing. A chuckle breaks loose, spiraling into full-blown hysterics until I’m howling like a madwoman.
There’s an ache in my stomach, but unlike the dread I feel with Tiberius, it’s from laughing too hard. Only Dean could do this.
By the time my laughter fades, the tightness in my chest loosens enough for a full breath.
If anyone asked me why I did what I did next, I wouldn’t have a straight answer. The urge to lay all my worries at his feet is so strong it nearly swallows me, and when my head rests on his shoulder, the world finally stops spinning.
A warm current washes over me, blooming in my chest. I press my cheek against his shoulder, the sparks reaching the cold, distant corners of my heart.
And I don’t stop there because apparently, I haven’t embarrassed myself enough. I shift closer until I’m tucked against him, my head resting over his chest.
The steady thud of his heart drowns everything else. I close my eyes, erasing the version of him Tiberius tried to show me and replacing it with Dean’s warmth.
I’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but the warmth, the safety of being near my mate, is calling to me like a siren song. If this is how my kind lures their prey, no wonder they never miss.
Everyone thinks I hate being touched, but I never crave comfort or affection because I don’t know what it feels like. But if it’s similar to this, then I get why people are so obsessed.
This is what I was afraid of… falling apart in someone’s arms. Why would anyone want to gather my broken pieces if it meant cutting themselves just to hold me together?
Dean doesn’t move a muscle, like he’s afraid to, and the silence makes me notice something else.
“Dean?”
“Hmm?”
“Why aren’t you breathing?”
“I’m scared you’ll realize how close we are and leave.”
I smile into his neck, my lips brushing his skin, and I swear his heart stutters.
“I won’t.”
He’s quiet for a beat before mumbling, “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”
I start to pull away, seconds from elbowing him, but Dean drops his cheek on top of my head and wraps his arms around me, cocooning me from the cold.
“Don’t go.”
The crack in his voice gives him away. He needs this too.
Good. I don’t want to be the only one acting like an idiot.
We stay like that until our hearts stop racing and Tiberius is nothing but a distant memory.
When I’m sure my legs won’t give out, I pull away from his warmth and stand.
Now that I actually look at the setup, I remember why I was shocked earlier.
“Uh, Dean… were you sleeping outside my room?”
“No?” It comes out like a question, and he ducks his head, fussing with the blanket in his lap.
“There’s a blanket in your lap, two pillows behind you, and your hair is doing that wild thing it does in the mornings.”
“You think I look wild in the mornings?” Of course, he deflects with a cheeky grin.
“Don’t change the subject. Why are you sleeping outside my room?”
He mumbles something I don’t catch—definitely on purpose.
My hands land on my hips. “In words I can understand, Reaper.”
“Fine, yes! Fates, you’re relentless. Why can’t you ignore a man looking out for his mate?”
“I don’t need a protector.”
His head snaps up, something fierce lighting his eyes that burns through the walls around my heart. “Good thing I want to be your partner.”
I clear my throat, thrown off by how easily he disarms me. “You can’t sleep here every night.”
“Joke’s on you because I’ve been doing it for a month.”
“Dean! That’s seriously fucked up.”
“No, it’s not.” He looks genuinely offended, like this is perfectly normal behavior.
A wave of dizziness hits me, reminding me how we got here. I don’t have the energy to deal with this weirdo right now.
I twist the knob, but before I can step inside my room, I make the mistake of looking back at him.
Dean looks up at me, wide brown eyes, soft and wounded that I’m leaving him behind.
What is this man doing to me?
“I’m going to regret this,” I mutter, opening the door wider and jerking my head inside. “You can come in.”
Dean springs up like an overexcited puppy and runs past me, launching himself on my bed like he owns it.
The audacity of men never fails to amaze me.
The smug bastard folds his arms behind his head, settling in like he belongs there.
“I can only imagine your struggle. Must be so hard to resist all of this.” He gestures down his body, and I immediately look at the ceiling so I don’t follow the path of his hand.
“You’re a walking headache. And delusional if you think you’re sleeping on my bed. Go get the mattress from your room.”
“You’re going to make your mate sleep on the floor? Fates won’t like that.”
Oh, cry me a fucking river.
“Fates are lucky I haven’t killed you in your sleep. A mattress is already an upgrade from the floor you’ve been sleeping on like a fucking stalker.”
Dean groans like a child, then leaves to fetch a thick, obnoxiously fluffy mattress.
I slip into bed and watch him drag the mattress beside my bed, piling it with a ridiculous number of pillows. Who needs that many? And two blankets? This man is so extra.
I switch off the lamp once he settles and bury my face in my pillow. I want to turn away and pretend there isn’t a living, breathing man sleeping on the floor right next to me, but something in me refuses to move.
I take a deep breath, teeth clenching when the fresh detergent replaces Dean’s scent. Oh, Lucifer. What have I become?
“Hazel?” He whispers, knuckles tapping the side of the bed.
“What?”
“I’m scared of the dark. Can I hold your hand?”
This delusional motherf—
“Sure. If you want to get stabbed.”
When I think he’s finally fallen asleep, he says my name again.
He’s lucky his presence calms the storm in my head, or I would’ve kicked him out by now.
I sigh. “What is it?”
“Can you stop acting like the world will end if you let your guard down? I’m right here. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I can handle my own problems,” I mutter, the same rehearsed line that keeps everyone out.
“But I don’t want you to handle everything alone. I know you’re stubborn, and you won’t just take my word for it, but I’m not going anywhere.”
You will. When Tiberius comes for your family, you’ll have no choice but to let me go.
“I can’t stand by and watch you fall apart anymore.”
I want to bristle at that. I can handle myself perfectly fine. I don’t need help. But the anger never lands, drowned by the softness in his voice.
“I’m not afraid of your past, Hazel—or Tiberius, that finned fucker. Let me in, hellfire.”
Hellfire. A small smile tugs at my lips.
“I’ll try,” I whisper after a moment, more to myself than to him.
“Can I hold your hand now?”
“No!” I laugh.
I never thought a night like this would end in laughter, but Dean has a way of dragging smiles out of me, whether I want them or not.