Chapter 36
Bastian kicked the door frame and listened to the house shudder, then walked into his living room. His hands were locked behind his neck as he began to pace. “Fuuuck,” he growled, feeling his glamor waver.
He went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out his most expensive bottle of whisky.
Then he downed a third of it in one go before slamming it on the cabinet surface.
He needed something to tie him down. If he didn’t get his shit together, things would take a turn for the worse.
He was seconds away from grabbing his bike and storming Eleanor’s apartment building and throwing her over his shoulder.
Bringing her home, here, where she belonged.
With him.
Because she was his and he wasn’t letting her go. He’d warned her. Goblins didn’t relinquish their prizes. And a mate? No.
He picked up the bottle and took another long swig.
He’d fucked up. He’d known what was happening to him—to them.
He’d known they were mates since the morning she went down on him, when his orgasm rocked him and everything clicked into place.
But he’d been a fucking coward. Afraid to tell her how deep this thing between them was, afraid to say aloud what it would mean for them.
Mated pairs were common among most supernatural races, but it was rare to see pairs cross-species.
His parents had been a rare pairing, fae and goblin.
Goblins were said to be a sub race of fae, but as far as he was concerned, they were their own race.
The fae just liked to make shitty claims to feel superior.
How fucking unsurprising, then, that something similar had happened to him.
Elle’s face flashed before his eyes, her pink hair and flushed skin. He growled, letting his fist fly. It slammed into the wall and the house shuddered again.
“Motherfucker,” he hissed, looking at the damage. Pulling energy from his metals and turning it into magic, he fixed the damage.
Yes, he needed to get his fucking shit together.
He headed for the garage, then stopped himself. He could not go back for her. He’d seen her face, her expression. If he pushed, it would make things worse. He would not be like Luke. Not even a little. He would not force her to be with him—would not take her choice away from her.
“I don’t want you to keep things from me,” she’d said. “I hate that feeling, you know? Luke did it all the time, actually. Intentionally kept things from me.”
This was his fucking mess to fix. He deserved this for being so damn stupid. Deserved to feel this way, because he’d hurt her.
His chest caved in. He’d hurt her, when she was his to protect, his to care for, to cherish and worship.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He went back to the living room and resumed his pacing.
She was probably crying in Vivi’s arms right this second.
His stomach turned into a hard knot. She should be crying in his arms. He deserved to see the tears, to be tormented with them.
Or maybe she’s not crying at all, a little voice taunted. Maybe you fucked up so badly, that she’s done with you. What makes you think you’re so special? What makes you think she wouldn’t just abandon you the same way Sara did?
He opened his mouth and roared. The sound shook the walls. He needed to break something, a lot of things. Instead, he stalked through the house to her room. It smelled like her. For a second, it was like she’d never left. Exhaustion pulled at him.
He sank onto the bed, bracing his forearms on his thighs. His head hung low. He closed his eyes. Right now, there wasn’t much he could do, except grow some fucking balls and deal with the aftermath. Deal with his feelings.
He thought about everything else that had happened. Luke was in critical condition at the hospital, under tight watch. He needed to go there and get some answers. It’d felt damned good breaking that asshole’s face—too good.
He sighed and went into Eleanor’s bathroom, stripping off his clothes, climbing into the shower…the shower he’d fucked her in. After that, he climbed naked into her bed, pulling the covers over his face, closing his eyes, letting her smell surround him.
When it was clear he wouldn’t get much sleep, he got up. Putting his time to good use, he began digging around in Luke’s background. Looking for pressure points. Anything he could use as leverage for what came next.
When he had everything he needed, he formulated a plan.
The following morning, he made pancakes—Eleanor’s favorite—with bacon and coffee. He cut up strawberries and made fresh whipped cream. He shouldn’t have, it was probably overstepping, and she might hate him for it, but she was still his to care for. So he’d make sure she was fed. And…
He was good at this sort of thing.
He plated everything, covered it with a metal plate cover to keep it warm, and paired it with a large mug of coffee prepared exactly how she liked it.
He summoned a bit of creamy cardstock and a pen, then scrawled ‘I’m sorry.
’ If he had to apologize for the rest of his life to make this right, he would.
He sent her breakfast, the card, and a single red rose to her apartment, to the desk in her bedroom.
There was no guarantee she’d be in her room to see it.
No guarantee she’d even touch it after what he’d done.
But he felt better knowing he’d done what he could—for now.
Then he downed a cup of coffee and set off for the city.
He didn’t bother eating, since he couldn’t stomach the thought of food, but he did take comfort in the hope that Eleanor might be eating his pancakes right this second, dousing them with the mini carafe of syrup he’d included.
Luke Portman was being held under high security at the hospital. He took a certain satisfaction seeing how fucked up his face looked. Christian sat in a chair, waiting.
“He said anything useful yet?”
“Hasn’t said shit,” Christian confirmed, sitting with his arms crossed. “But we did confiscate a couple of interesting items from his pockets, ones that were missing from the WU library displays. Strangely enough, one of them must have kept him alive after your beating.”
“Damn. Too bad.” Bastian eyed Christian and the other officers in the room. Luke’s eyelids fluttered, like he was waking up. “I want to talk to him. Alone.”
“Not happening.”
“Christian.”
“You think I’ll leave you alone with him after your actions last night?”
Bastian rolled his eyes. “I won’t touch him. You have my word.”
Christian watched him for a long moment then sighed. “Fine. Ten minutes.”
“Thanks.”
The others left the room while he pulled up a chair. “Not the best look for you, asshole.”
A wheezing laugh was Luke’s only answer. He didn’t even open his eyes.
“Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to give me answers, and I’m going to leave you alive. So, why don’t you tell me where you hid the harp? Your answer won’t make any difference on your record, but it might make your life a little less shitty, considering what I’ve got planned.”
Luke laughed again, his eyes finally cracking open. “Did you fuck her? Did you get after that tight pussy? How’d you like the way she feels?”
Red flashed in Bastian’s vision. He was snarling before the sound registered as his. He took a steadying breath. “Don’t mention her. Don’t even think about her.”
“Your mate, huh? A little human mate. Does it bother you that I fucked her first?”
This time, every coherent thought slid right out of his mind.
He was going to fucking kill this little piece of shit.
He reached out, then closed his fist before it made contact.
Keeping his voice lethally calm, he said, “You are so, so very lucky I promised not to touch you.” Luke only huffed.
“Tell. Me. What. You. Did. With. The. Fucking. Harp.”
“I don’t have it,” Luke said, staring at the wall. A small smile pulled at his lips. The asshole was fucking enjoying this.
“What do you mean, you don’t have it?” He hissed. “You used it. Where did you put it?”
“Oh. I didn’t use it.” Bastian blinked and Luke snickered. “You think I did all that? Pulled those specters from their bodies? Created a bunch of walking ghosts? Not so great at your job, huh?”
Luke was baiting him.
“Where is it?” He snarled.
“I’ll tell you, but in return, I want a favor.”
“You’re not getting shit. How about this, instead?
I might be bad at my job, but I found your father, found out what care facility he’s located at, found out how much you’ve been paying to keep him there.
He seems real nice and comfortable. Also saw that you visit several times a week.
I promise you this. If you do not tell me exactly where the harp is, then Mr. Portman might not wake up tomorrow morning. ”
Luke’s body went rigid.
“You hurt someone who means everything to me—my fucking mate. I am a goblin. If you think I possess a shred of decency where your father is concerned, you’re wrong. Do not think I have qualms about hurting someone you love in return, for the way you hurt Eleanor.”
Luke’s throat bobbed. His eyes darted in Bastian’s direction. “Fine,” he rasped. “Get a piece of paper. I’ll give you the address.”
Game. Over.