Chapter 11
Devlin
“Who the fuck is this guy?” I narrow my eyes on the man leaving my girlfriend’s clinic without a pet. Didn’t come in with one either. But that pep in his step as he gets into his truck? I’m guessing it has more to do with a certain pretty vet than picking up any meds he might need for his dog.
I thought I had weeks to prepare, to ease her into the idea of moving in with me. But tall, dark, and douchebag torched the long game the second he set his sights on my girl.
I cock my head, considering my options. Torching her house so she’ll be forced to turn to me for help could work.
No, I should save that for if we need to skip town so people think she’s dead and don’t come looking for us.
Kiara walks in front of the window, giving me the perfect view to study her from the shadows across the street, and my heart beats a little faster.
As soon as I officially decided to keep her, the idea has consumed my every waking moment.
I’ve never let anyone in my personal space before.
At one point, I had hoped my brother would be the first, that he’d have an interest in my work.
A partner in crime was an intriguing concept to consider and what drew me to this little myst haven nestled away in the mountains in the first place, only to find him happily bonded and content in life.
I don’t fault him for not remembering me; he was a toddler when our parents kicked me out of the house, after all.
Still. It hurts that I’ve spent the better part of my life chasing after someone that doesn’t remember my name.
No, I need her. She’s just so… so soft, and sweet, and when she smiles, it’s like staring directly at the sun. Brilliantly bright and so beautiful it hurts after spending a lifetime alone in the shadows. She’s the thing I’ve been searching for my entire life without even realizing it.
Kiara grimaces, placing her hand against her stomach before sighing and walking out of sight.
I stiffen as realization hits me like a freight train, nerve endings buzzing with the sudden flood of restless adrenaline and rage.
Not only was she left alone in a town full of unmated, desperate supernaturals, walks to work and home alone in this weather, but she's starving?
Nope. Unacceptable. Not on my watch.
Lower back aching, I place the last piece of the puzzle inside the rope snare. Worth the effort though, because damn; this might be my best work yet. Or at least, the most important.
“What the heck? Oh, that’s a pretty book,” my obsession murmurs from down the hallway and I grin.
Got her. A sharp intake of breath. “This one has holographic foil and sprayed edges!” She continues to follow the bookish breadcrumbs until she reaches the stack at the end, turning before she steps foot in the snare to frown directly at where I’m hiding in the shadows, seamlessly blending into the wall.
“Are you seriously using books like candy to lure me into a trap?”
I frown in confusion that she clocked me at all. No-one has ever been able to sense me hiding in a room. I’ve made a career out of it.
Red alert, it’s a traaaaaaap. A pretty, irresistible trap.
I’ve never been good at self-restraint.
“That depends.” Dropping my camouflage, I step out of the wall and stare at her with newfound interest. “Is it working?”
She tilts her head, considering, and darts a swift look at the books in her arms, clutching them tighter. “Actually… yeah, it really is. Do me a favor and don't tell my brother.”
Brother? Where the hell has he been while my girl’s been out traipsing around in the cold alone, then?
“Anywho,” she says, breaking me out of my murderous thoughts. “What's the trap for?”
… Fuck. I really didn’t think about what I’d do if I got this far.
Suddenly panicking, I discreetly pull one of my knives and slice my palm, holding it out to her as if I have every right to be here. Nothing suspicious about it at all.
“Was hoping to bribe you into helping me out?” Shamelessly, I show off my bloody palm, flexing it a bit to make it bleed more. “I know firsthand that you do a better job than anyone at the hospital can. Seeing as I love myself, I insist on only the best.”
She snorts, but her cheeks warm. As if she likes the idea of being needed.
Note to self, my girl needs a hype man. Consider me hired.
I’ll happily hobble myself every morning if it helps put that look on her face again.
“You're ridiculous,” she says with an exaggerated eyeroll that has my cock perking up with interest and sets her stack on the counter. “Fine, let me take a look.”
She pauses when her hand’s a hairsbreadth from mine and shoots me a defiant look. “But I'm keeping the books.”
Fuck, she’s precious.
“Of course.” I’d steal her an entire bookstore if it'd make her happy.
Actually, that's brilliant. Then she won’t be able to leave once I bring her home; too many pretty distractions. She'll never make it out of the library. Like an escape room, bookworm edition.
I get that better than most people. Attention spans are…
not my strong suit. Probably a byproduct of having to keep tabs on every single thing happening around me while living on the streets so I didn’t wake up to a shiv in my kidney, or maybe it’s got something to do with how I hyperfixate on the things that interest me.
Life is hard, but for fleeting moments, at least it’s interesting.
Until it’s not.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m very much team- bored now, moving on. No regrets, it lets me experience everything life has to offer in bite-sized pieces. But I’ve yet to find something that survives my hyperfixation mode longer than a few weeks.
Until now.
Something tells me that Kiara is an obsession I won’t ever outgrow.
She takes my hand in hers, a warm glow suddenly flooding my veins, and I close my eyes with a shuddering breath, not realizing how badly I’ve been craving her touch since that first day. It’s not even the soothing rush that does it for me, it’s… it’s…
Connection.
For a brief moment, I’m not alone. For a few seconds, somebody actually gives a shit whether or not I’m in pain and cares enough to take it away. She sees me.
I’ve made a career out of hiding in plain sight. There isn’t a soul on this earth that can outmatch my skills. But it wasn’t until Kiara saw me that I realized how desperately I wanted someone to.
No, not someone. Her.
“There you go,” my obsession says, quickly yanking her hands away and tucking them into her pockets. Instantly, I scowl. I feel her absence keenly, and I hate it.
“Are you sure? It’s still tingling.”
A tiny furrow appears between her brows, looking down at my hand, but she stubbornly refuses to touch me again for some unfathomable reason.
Dear gods, what is this woman doing to me? Since when do I let anyone touch me, let alone want it? Maybe that warm, intoxicating rush is actually her poisoning me. That makes more sense.
Good thing I’ve built up a tolerance to most toxins. She won’t kill me, but damn, it could be one hell of a fun ride watching her try.
“Looks fine to me,” she argues, still frowning. “There isn’t even a scar. Do you have feeling in it? I didn’t think it went deep enough to affect the nerve endings, but I suppose-”
She cuts off with a yelp when I thrust my phone at her. “Let me take you to dinner. To thank you.”
Silence surrounds us in an oppressive blanket, but I refuse to drop her gaze. We’re going to dinner regardless; my girl’s growling stomach has cemented that fact. It’s just a matter of whether she’s going to come willingly or not.
“Are you serious?” she asks, looking adorably confused for some reason.
“As the plague.”
She searches my gaze for the longest time. “How did you know I worked here?”
“You nearly gave yourself hypothermia to save an octopus. Wasn't really that much of a leap to guess you worked with animals.”
That only serves to deepen her frown. “Why were you even looking for me in the first place?”
I match her frown. Why wouldn’t I search high and low for my dream girl? “Because I wanted to see you again.”
A look of genuine surprise flashes across her face that enrages me. That this stunning woman thinks it’s shocking that someone wants to be around her is a scathing indictment to everyone else in her life failing her beyond redemption.
Kiara’s gaze darts down to my inner wrist. “Don't tell me that when we crashed into each other,” she trails off, but I can gather what she’s wondering.
This day and age most people tend to choose their mates, grabbing a potion to cement the bonds and force matching marks to appear.
Fated mates are rare, but they do still happen.
All it takes is a center touching their mate’s skin for their mark to appear as a match on their wrist. Cases like that?
You don’t spit in the face of the Fates for bringing you together.
“I don't need a damn mark to tell me you’re mine,” I growl.
“But if you do…” I snatch a permanent marker off the front desk and start sketching.
Soon, the crescent moon compass that’s haunted my dreams appears on my skin.
“There. Now that that's out of the way.” I cap the marker and toss it in the general direction of the counter. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”
Bright blue-green eyes blink back at me, stunned silent, but eventually, she reboots.
“Before I answer, you should probably know,” she chews on the corner of her lower lip.
“I have a fated mate, but we’re not bonded.
I don’t think he’ll be a problem, but figured you should know what you’re signing up for. ”
My heart stutters in my chest. Not from disappointment. From complete and utter rage.
“Why the hell isn't he here taking care of you, then?”
Her shoulders slump, and I’m about to apologize when she whispers, “He didn't want me.”
If she hadn’t already rewired my entire being, those four words would have done it.
“Well that settles it then, I'm just going to have to kill him.” As her eyes widen in surprise, I continue, “Does seven sound good for dinner? I have a couple of things I need to take care of first.”
She peers up at me in confusion. “You still want to date me? Seriously?”
Is she high? Maybe she's delirious from hunger. That's the only rational explanation.
“Sweet thing, there's nothing I've ever wanted more.”