Chapter 20
Kiara
Stryker strangles the steering wheel, practically daring the SUV to slide for an excuse to rip it off.
“I still don't understand why you felt the need to sneak through the vents. Why didn't you just tell me what you overheard? I could have handled it instead of you delivering yourself up on a silver platter to human traffickers. Gods only know what sort of abilities they might have had. If one could teleport, you could be halfway across the world right now and I wouldn’t even know where to start searching for you!”
“Because if it went poorly and I got arrested, I didn't want to drag you down with me. I thought she was a fox, not a freaking kitsune! How was I supposed to guess they were trafficking mysts?”
He glides into the space outside of my house and throws it in park, pivoting in his seat to face me fully and cups my cheek.
“Any man that's willing to sit back and watch you get in trouble to save his own ass is a piece of shit that doesn't deserve to be in your orbit. You know what would have happened if you’d told me?”
Discreetly, I tug my coat sleeve down a little more.
I managed to hide the bruises before he saw them, but with him glued to my side since I showed up covered in blood with a kitsune in my arms and told him we needed to get the hell out of there, then the whirlwind of getting her safely settled into town, I haven’t had a chance to heal them.
Honestly, the backlash is worse than letting them heal on their own, but it’ll lead to questions I don’t want to answer, so I’ll have to suck it up tonight when I’m alone.
“You’d have thrown me in the car and told me it was too dangerous to try and steal from men auctioning off animals and taken me home?”
“Close. I'd have sent you out to the truck to have it running and waiting with the doors locked. Stole your shifter friend even if she was a regular fox, and dropped anyone that got in my way. Then passed her to you to check over and hold while we got the hell out of dodge.”
My stomach churns with disappointment. “So you would've had me sit around twiddling my thumbs while you did everything yourself.”
“Sweet girl, I'm not sure what kind of bondgroups you've been around, but let's get one thing straight. You know what a mate's job is?”
My throat tightens. I saw dozens of bondgroups growing up, each more helplessly in love than the last. Devoted and obsessed. And yet, no matter how much centers, male or female, are supposedly coveted, nobody’s ever treated me that way.
“To... love me?”
Stryker pins me in place with a fierce look.
“To do whatever the fuck he has to to take care of you and make you happy.
Physically, financially, and emotionally.
So if someone needs to be punched in the throat for the way they speak to you?
They'll be breathing through a ventilator.
If you need a bigger house? I'll have a realtor ready to show you some options by the end of the day. And if you want to save a shifter from being auctioned off?” His stormy gaze holds mine, unrelenting.
“Then I'll be the first one through the door because this is what I do. I protect people.” His thumb caresses my cheek and he rests his forehead against mine. “Let me take care of you, too.”
Chest tight, I rub the heel of my hand over the ache. “If it sounds too good to be true, it usually is. Nothing’s that easy.”
“Of course it’s not, and anyone that tells you otherwise is selling something.
Falling in love is easy; it’s choosing to love them every day after, even when things aren’t perfect, that’s the trick.
Building a solid foundation is hard work, and if someone isn’t willing to put in the effort, they’re not worth keeping around.
It’s supposed to be you and them being a team against the problem, not each other. And Kiara?”
Heart in my throat, I meet his eyes as they crinkle at the corners with his soft smile. “I’ve never met a problem I couldn’t solve until now, and you’re the one I came to for help, remember? I need you, too. So what do you say? Room for a defective myst on your team?”
A defective myst. Is that seriously how he sees himself?
Heart threatening to beat out of my chest, I try to respond, but my words stick in my throat.
Nothing I say could come anywhere close to expressing how much his declaration meant to me, how desperately I needed to hear that.
Hell, I don’t even know where to start, but actions speak louder than words, so I crush my lips against his.
He freezes for only a moment before threading his fingers through my hair, angling my head to take control of the kiss.
And for once? I let myself fall into him without worrying about what tomorrow will bring.
Every brush of his lips against mine, each roll of his tongue as he steals the breath from my lungs, I surrender to the inevitable storm that is Stryker Thorne.
A small eternity later, guilt nestles in my chest as reality trickles back in. “What does me saying yes look like to you? If I were to also have a fated mate or two, how would that work? Do I need to come to you first, or-”
He cuts me off with a quick, fierce kiss, taking my chin in hand and holding my gaze.
“The center builds their bondgroup; full stop. I’m under no illusions that I’ll be your only mate, and even then, that’s what dating’s for.
For you to get to know me better and see if you want to keep me around long term.
All that I ask is that you let me know if and when those sort of things happen so I’m not blindsided. ”
I may not have a lot of experience with relationships, but even I know one built on secrets or lies of omission is doomed to fail.
So, heart threatening to beat out of my chest and waiting for him to take back everything he said, I blurt, “I’ve met two.
One didn’t want anything to do with me, and the other…
” I carefully choose my words, “it’s complicated.
I think there’s something there, but he's not in a good place right now. I’m working with him on it, though.
Had a date with someone that isn’t a fated mate, too, but not sure what’s going on with that, either. ”
A worried frown creases his brow as he absorbs my words. “I’m happy to help.”
“I might very well take you up on that. But give me a chance to try on my own first? I don’t know how well he’d do if I tried bringing a stranger around right now.”
His eyes narrow slightly, but eventually, he concedes with a slow nod.
“Remember what I said; we’re a team. If you have a problem, I hope you’ll come to me if it gets to be too much to handle on your own.
Or even if you simply want someone to help shoulder the burden.
” He sighs. “But I know it’ll take time for you to believe I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass.
Can you at least promise that if whatever bad situation he’s in starts to spillover to you, you’ll fill me in?
It’s one thing to step aside while he struggles, and another completely to let him drag you down with him. ”
I press my lips softly against his. “I promise. Though I’ll have to get a new phone before I can shoot you an S.O.S.”
His thumb softly caresses my jaw. “Noted. Now, let me get these bags-”
“Oh, I’ve got it, don’t worry.”
“Kiara.” Raising an eyebrow in challenge, he unbuckles. “Whatever men you were raised around clearly need their asses kicked.”
But he doesn’t understand; that’s not it. The people I grew up around were either mimics escaping traumatic situations and everyone went above and beyond to care for them, centers that had people courting them left and right, or bonded mates that fawned over each other.
I just wasn’t one of them.
Nobody wanted to risk bonding the broken myst and having it affect their abilities, or worse, finding out if my problem is a genetic quirk. Another generation of mysts with power problems? Heaven forbid.
Unloading the trunk, Stryker loops all the bags on one arm and carries them to my doorstep.
When I thank and take them from him, holding my key but making no move to unlock my door, he frowns, but doesn’t push it.
Of course he doesn’t; he was clearly raised well.
He isn’t about to invite himself into a woman’s house at night when she’s clearly not offering.
He cups my cheek softly, dipping down to kiss me goodbye. “Make sure to lock your door. I'll see you soon.”
I wait until he’s back in his car to open my door, but he doesn’t pull away until I have it closed behind me. Flipping the lock, I barely get my coat off and drop my keys on the end table before I’m pushed up against the wall.
One hand on my collar bone, my shifter pins me in place.
His other arm rests against the wall above my head, caging me in as a low growl rumbles through his chest. Every beat of my heart hammers against his palm, but I keep my tone soft as I tease, “If this is the kind of welcome home I can expect, I might have to leave more often. Kind of hot, not gonna lie.”
His fingers flex at the base of my throat before he uses a thumb to bend my head to the side, exposing my throat.
Without a shred of shame, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deep.
Whatever he scents has that growl ratcheting up to an all out snarl, and his palm slides up to collar my throat.
There isn’t any pressure behind it, or even any aggression aimed my way.
It’s more… possessive. Like he’s pissed off someone else’s scent is on his mate, and maybe I’m fucked up, but heat pools between my thighs and I squirm against him.
I can tell the moment he picks up on my arousal, stiffening against me as his snarl cuts off abruptly.
He takes another deep breath, fingers flexing on my throat.