Chapter Ten #13
Zavier was asleep behind him, stretched along the couch like the world’s laziest cat. One muscly arm was banded around Flynn’s waist, holding him tucked close even unconsciously.
Flynn’s gaze dipped, telling himself he was not perving on Zavier’s swollen biceps or his solid pecs. Wasn’t paying attention to a strong jawline, thick lashes, or sensual lips.
And Flynn definitely hadn’t noticed how shirtless his bodyguard was. It must’ve fallen off when he carried Flynn upstairs. Zavier had to have carried him. How else would Flynn have woken up in his cocoon with a roguish hunk wrapped around him?
Not that he was complaining.
At all.
Without that constant alertness in Zavier’s eyes, he looked younger somehow. Softer. Dangerous in a different way.
The apartment was quiet except for the muffled video and the occasional passing car outside.
And whatever that low rumbling sound was that Flynn just now noticed. Frowning, he glanced at his phone, thinking maybe a pop-up ad had caused the noise. Nope. Just a fourth woman with lime green nails long enough to double as weapons. “You should’ve brought more backup. And maybe Kevlar.”
There might’ve been an active cat fight on his phone, but no one in the video was purring. Flynn was rooting for punchy girl. Girlfriend had aura.
Remembering the noise, Flynn tapped the screen dark with his thumb. Then listened.
Nothing. Just an eerily quiet apartment at three in the morning.
Flynn glanced at the shadows then the door, reminding himself that Zavier was lying right next to him.
No bad guys could reach him. He was safely tucked behind his capable bodyguard.
A barrier between Flynn and whatever danger might be lurking.
Taking a deep breath, he lifted his phone.
Prrr.
Flynn froze, wondering why his apartment was purring.
The sound was low and deep, vibrating against his hip where Zavier’s chest pressed into him.
You’re imagining the sound. It’s after three in the more, snack cupboard is empty, and your bodyguard sleeps with you every night.
Literally. No nooky. Just restful, boring sleep.
Of course, Flynn was hearing noises. His sexual frustrated had hit its limit, resulting in carpal tunnel from multiple jerkoffs, occasional bitchiness, and auditory hallucinations of content purring.
Slowly, Flynn glanced over his shoulder.
His eyes widened.
No. Absolutely not. But Flynn was already leaning closer, staring at Zavier’s sleeping face. The rumbling came again.
Holy. Shit. That wasn’t possible. People did not purr. Felines did. Tiny furry felons with no respect for personal space. Muscly bodyguards with forearms capable of ending civilizations or gently carrying an exhausted twink up three flights of stairs absolutely did not.
“What are you?”
Zavier opened his eyes, their gazes locking. “Bengal tiger.”
A high-pitched laugh escaped. Flynn slapped his hand over his mouth, then lowered it. “Wake up, Zavier. You’re dreaming.” Or maybe Flynn was. That would explain the sound.
“Not dreaming, kitten. I’m a Bengal tiger shifter.”
“You’re a cat.” Flynn pressed his hand over his own forehead.
“No fever. No chills. Could be something else. Food poisoning? Black plague? An undiagnosed gluten intolerance? Maybe I went insane years ago, and this mental scape is my new reality. If this is psychosis, the production value sucks.” He turned with a wiggled to face Zavier.
“My broken mind shoves me in this reality with a stalker who’s into serial-killer-style love notes, a bank account deathly allergic to money, and a total crush who has fantasies about fluffy yarn balls and dappled sunlight. ”
He glanced up like he was addressing his complaint to the real Flynn. “I can forgive the insanity, but trapping your mind with a stalker and someone easily distracted by a laser light is just foul. You could’ve least made us filthy rich, asshole.”
Another unhinged laugh escaped. Flynn didn’t bother covering it this time.
“Kitten.”
Flynn could not stop the bursts of hysterical laughter that kept erupting. The stress had finally broken him.
“Kitten. How fitting.” Another quick burst. “Oh no. No, no, no, honey. Be as delusional as you want—hiss at dogs, knock things off my dresser, and get stuck in a tree, but you are not involving me into your crazy.”
“Flynn.”
“Say you were joking. Screwing with me. I’ll believe anything you tell me, except that.
My life’s already a mess. You’re the only steadiness I have, Zavier.
” Swallowing, Flynn glanced down and wished he hadn’t.
Zavier was lying there, an arm tucked under his head, gazing at Flynn with so much tenderness it never broke him.
“Come here, kitten.” He eased Flynn onto his chest, caressing his back in gentle strokes. “I need you to relax.” He held up his hand when Flynn parted his lips. “I’m know it’s pretty rich of me to ask when I’m the reason you’re spiraling. Just focus on one thing.”
Flynn listened to Zavier’s steady heartbeat thumping in his ear.
“How we doing, sweetheart?”
The timbre in his voice reverberated through Flynn. He rested his hand on Zavier’s stomach, watching it rise and fall with every breath.
“Yesterday, at the shooting place. I didn’t see you move when you took the shotgun. One second, I was holding it, then I was holding air. It wasn’t humanly possible to move so fast, but I didn’t push for answers.”
“Why not?”
The vibration tickled a little.
“I was happy in our private little bubble. I didn’t want anything to pop it.”
“Neither did I.” Zavier gently squeezed him. “Can’t ever remember feeling that content.”
“You were?”
“I had to bite back so many purrs my teeth were aching.” Zavier resumed rubbing Flynn’s back. “I have heightened senses and reflex. The shotgun was waving too freely, and my instinct took over. My only thought was to protect you, not ruin your fun.”
“I know.” Headlight beams briefly lit the room then faded. “I saw something flash in your eyes, but eyes don’t flash. They sparkle, shimmer, or brighten, but they don’t flash.”
Zavier tensed, his hand stilling once more.
“I don’t want lies,” Flynn said. “The conversation up to this point has felt genuine. If you start bullshitting me, conversation ends.”
Flynn wasn’t the assertive type, but Zavier had become important to him. His words mattered.
From conception Flynn’s father rejected him, his mom when she’d chosen alcohol over her own son, dying when Flynn was only nineteen from liver damage.
His grandmother’s death was just a part of life, but Flynn still felt the loss deeply.
Andrew left town without a single word. Flynn hadn’t seen Josh in close to a decade. That one hurt the most. His cousin had issues. Broken home, abusive father, always feeling on edge.
Expect when Josh was with him. His cousin hard edges softened when they hung out, becoming the real version of himself.
Zavier would leave once this assignment was over, then Flynn would be nothing more than a case number.
After Colton dropped that truth bomb, Flynn was pissed.
Nobody wanted the curtain pulled back, for others to see the damage, or to realize Flynn had purposely shrunk his world.
It wasn’t until he’d thought long and hard about his past that the truth struck him.
He couldn’t be rejected if his world was a population of one.
Honestly, Zavier not being human mind-blowing, but wasn’t as important as it should’ve been. Flynn just wanted him to stay. Pathetic as hell, but Flynn didn’t care. Zavier could’ve been a blue Martian and it still wouldn’t have mattered.
Great, now Flynn was imagining Zavier in an Avatar body, silky black hair pulled back, and wearing just enough loin cloth to be legal.
Flynn snorted. Didn’t matter what color or species, Zavier would pull that look off, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts.
You’re officially banned from the romance section.
“You’re a little too quiet for someone who just found out preternatural exist.”
“I was thinking about how we skipped dinner so now I’m starving.” Flynn tried to escape, but there was a wall of warm flesh in his way.
Zavier didn’t lift a finger to help. He just lay there, watching Flynn wiggle like an idiot.
“Mind giving me a little help? The back of the cushion sucked me in and now my butt’s trapped.”
“Right out the gate.” Zavier shook his head.
“Is my butt showing? Stop looking. Just grab my hand and give a hard yank.” Flynn’s brows shot up. “That's not …I was…then.” You are never getting laid again.
Flynn tried once again to free himself but gave up when he started folding in on himself. His couch wasn’t even that deep. It was the pocket between the back of the couch and Zavier where Flynn was stuck.
“You’re trying to end the conversation.” Zavier studied him. “Which means you lied to me.”
“When?” Flynn had spent the entire time trying to dislodge from the couch. Searching his mind ended with zero results. He could’ve asked Zavier, but if he wouldn’t help Flynn from the couch, chances were slim he’d help with Flynn’s memory.
“Guess this is my new home,” Flynn huffed. “Can you at least pass me the remote?”
“Right after you tell me the truth.”
The guy was like a dog with a bone. “What truth?”
“When I asked what you were thinking.”
“I’m pleading the fifth.” Flynn was not trauma dumping.
Not a chance. He wasn’t letting Zavier discover just how pathetic he was, or that Flynn had been suffering from touch depravation most of his life.
Zavier wouldn’t understand. His looks and quiet confidence guaranteed a warm bed and company.
He was a tiger, too. His points just kept racking up.
That’s not fair.
Zavier shifted around, propping his head on his hand. “Always stick as close to the truth as possible when lying. You’ll have less to remember.”
Flynn frowned. “You’re teaching me how to become a better liar?”