Chapter 16
Kiara
“Can’t believe I forgot it,” I grumble to myself, cheeks red from the blistering wind as I fumble my keys, finally unlocking the front door.
I had to fend off a million questions from my brother, but he eventually caved and let me borrow his work-issued handheld energy reader.
And I left it at home like an idiot when Stryker Thorn is due to show up for his appointment in less than an hour.
The difference is immediately noticeable.
Sure, the heat was shut off two days ago, but the insulation makes it warmer than outside, at least. Not to mention the break from the arctic winds assaulting my face.
Enjoying the temporary warmth, I race upstairs to grab the device and slip it in the messenger bag on my hip.
On my way back out, a cold breeze gives me pause and I glance over at the living room window…
only to find a gaping hole and shattered glass on the wood floor.
Scanning the room, I slowly creep down the hall, preparing to make a break for it down the street to Ever’s house. But I’m rooted to the spot when a man steps out of the shadows, blocking my path.
He’s a full head taller than me, tousled black hair so dark that it’s practically made of the shadows around him.
Sharp edged tattoos run down the sides of his throat, and I follow the path down his chest and rib cage, over his hips to where they end mid-thigh.
His bare thighs. Because this powerhouse of lean, sculpted muscle?
He’s standing in front of me completely.
Fucking. Naked. So it makes it impossible to hide the hundreds of scars and burns littered across his bronzed skin.
His eyes are what still the breath in my lungs, though.
That bright amber is piercing, unmistakable. As is the predatory, wild look in them.
“You came back.” It’s barely a whisper, but it’s enough to make him take half a step back, like I startled him.
He’s coiled so tightly, watching me intently and gaze jumping to clock every small movement I make.
My adrenaline starts to crash now that I know some stranger isn’t about to murder me, and I bend over to brace my hands on my thighs, heart racing and breath whooshing out of my lungs in relief.
“You’re paying for that, you know.” I gesture vaguely in the direction of the broken glass.
After a few more seconds to get myself under control and ensure I’m not going to have a heart attack, I glance up to find him staring at me warily, his head cocked in confusion, and mentally sigh.
“As pissed as I am about the window, because I sure as hell can’t afford to replace it right now, I’m glad you finally decided that help sounds better than hypothermia.”
I’ve spent the past week worrying about someone stumbling across him and either selling him out, or putting him down.
But by some miracle, he’s found a way to survive.
I’m sure the sphinx form is to thank for not freezing to death, but now that he’s managed to shift back, it makes sense why it was the push he needed to find better shelter.
Feral or not, men are men. If I had a dick that size, I’d be worried about it freezing off, too.
Rather than answer me, he slowly, cautiously, walks past me, careful to keep his distance as he retreats deeper into the house, never taking his eyes off mine as he silently implores me to follow him. And when I do?
I damn near burst into tears.
On the kitchen table and floor are piles of food.
Some of the boxes are smashed, and the thought of eating canned beets makes me throw up in my mouth a little, but the frozen goods are still cold.
And he’s looking at me like he’s both proud of the haul he brought home, and nervously watching my reaction like he actually cares what I think.
Nobody but my brother has ever cared whether or not I’m happy. Only about what I can do for them.
“You,” I sniff, “stole me groceries?“
He doesn’t answer, but upon seeing my misty eyes, seems to panic and grabs a box of partially thawed waffles, thrusting them at me.
I take them with a watery laugh, clutching them to my chest as I wipe at my face and try to pull myself together. “Thank you.”
The tenuous hope from before comes trickling back in.
What if I actually could fix him? I would be the first person in history to help a feral shifter regain his humanity, something even my brother isn’t able to do.
It’d be a game changer for shifter society if I can pull this off.
I could keep him safe while helping him heal.
And… it’d be nice having somebody to come home to at the end of the day instead of an empty house. To somebody that needs me. Wants me.
It’s a quiet neighborhood. So long as I keep my head down and him inside, I can totally pull this off.
Because he really isn’t the rabid kind of feral, he’s more of the trauma-mute variety.
An abused animal that lashes out when startled.
And Fates, after seeing those scars? He has about five hundred damn good reasons not to trust people.
It’s a miracle he survived whatever torture he endured and is as stable as he is.
Even being lost to his instincts, he’s trying to feed me.
And when I didn’t respond to the dead bird offering, he went out in search of something else. But why-
The mate mark on his wrist is a glaring beacon, taunting me as the ringing in my ears hits a fever pitch.
No. No no no no no no. I can’t survive another rejection. And this guy? He’s the epitome of a flight risk. Hell, I don’t even know his name.
The ringing in my ears morphs into that of my phone, jolting me out of my internal freak out. I fumble it twice, nearly dropping it before I realize it isn’t a call, but my alarm reminding me that my next appointment is in twenty minutes.
“I don’t have time to deal with this right now.”
Once the words pass my lips, I feel a modicum of control again, and I latch onto it like there’s no tomorrow. Avoidance and denial aren’t my usual go-tos, but right now? I’ll take whatever gets me through the day.
“I need to get back to work, so you? Stay. Stay,” I emphasize, motioning with my hands.
He narrows his eyes, but slowly drops down to sit on the floor. I spring into triage mode, flinging all the perishables into the fridge and freezer, ripping open a box of protein bars and a bag of chips and thrusting them at my new houseguest. Boyfriend?
Fates, I’m not caffeinated enough for this.
“Let’s make one thing clear; Jules is not dinner. You see my danger noodle skulking around the house, you leave him be or you’ll be out on your ass, mate mark be damned. Capiche?”
Obviously he doesn’t respond, and I add that to my already dauntingly long to-do list.
As soon as I hand him the pile of food, his penis becomes a glaringly obvious problem between us and I dart to my room to quickly lock Jules in his closest nest for now and snatch the blankets off the bed, throwing one over my shifter’s lap and using the other to temporarily patch the broken window until I can figure out a better solution after work.
“I’m going to be late for my next appointment, and I can’t afford to miss it if I want to keep the electricity from being shut off next and have a shot of surviving this neverending winter from Hell, so stay.
Here.” I add in some charades, but who knows if he’s picking up on the neurotic vibes I’m throwing down.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, so make yourself at home. When I get back, we can figure out what we’re going to do about,” my gaze drops to my crescent moon compass tattoo on his wrist, both thrilled, and utterly terrified, “this. Don’t answer the door for anyone but me, okay?”
I switch on the TV to hopefully keep him occupied on my way out, sending up a silent prayer that it’ll distract him from destroying the house or wandering off. But I’m well aware that it’s a last ditch band-aid on a problem that’s hemorrhaging before my eyes.
It’s cold as fuck out and he came to my house with enough food to hunker down for weeks. He isn’t going anywhere without a damn good reason driving him to. Worst thing I have to worry about is him making a mess rooting around the house or burning it down playing with the stove.
At least I could honestly claim someone broke in and torched the place, it wasn’t arson for insurance fraud. Could use the payout to bail me out and crash at the clinic…
No, bad Kiara. No arson.
Yet.
The wind slaps me in the face as I lock the door behind me and race back to the clinic, mind whirling. I can’t hide him forever. Someone is eventually going to find out, and once they realize he’s feral? They’ll take him away.
Determination settles over me like a weighted shroud, grieving a future I’ll likely never see, but determined to fight for it until my dying breath anyway.
“No, I’m not going to let that happen.” Havoc may have been happy to cast me aside without a second glance, but I’m not going to abandon my shifter just because we met each other in less than ideal circumstances.
Mates are supposed to fight for each other. To be there when it matters.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted; someone to treat me like I’m the most important thing in their world.
And that beast of a man, while out of his right mind, stole food for me. Cared about feeding me when he’s been out suffering in the cold and starving. Actions speak louder than words, and everything about my new mate screams that he’s worth fighting for.
“Okay, Kiara, think,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “First thing’s first, how do I keep him in the house long term?”
Food access. An area that’s solely his so he starts thinking of it as a safe space. A way to burn off energy so he doesn’t get restless and destroy the house or want to go for a run.
A blush warms my cheeks, and I mentally slap myself before I go too far down that dirty rabbit hole.
Valerian root is like Xanax and Valium rolled into one the way most mages and witches prepare it. I bet it would help chill out a feral shifter.
Yanking out my phone, I ignore my numb fingers as I work my way down my supplier contacts, anxiety slowly wrapping a noose around my throat as the dead ends rack up and the list grows shorter.
“Sorry, Keys, but I’m tapped out until my next shipment arrives,” the earth mage says with genuine remorse.
Sympathy does nothing to fix my problems though.
At least, until he adds, “If you’re on a time crunch, you could always check out the animal expo in Rentown this weekend.
I’d bet there’s at least one vendor there selling some, even if it’s at a scalper mark up. Depends on how desperate you are.”
I’ve been desperate since I moved to Mercy Ridge. But for the first time, I have someone else counting on me to figure shit out. And I’m not about to let him down.
“Thanks, Jax.”
Hanging up, I immediately text my brother, relieved when he agrees to give me a ride this weekend.
“I can do this,” I delude myself. “Everything is going to be okay. It has to be.”
Because I can’t survive losing another mate.