Chapter 29
Kiara
Rapid, hard knocking at the door has me rolling out of the nest, flopping onto the bathroom tile and grumbling as I get to my feet and check the time. It’s only been an hour since Vic left; just enough time to fall back asleep and be mad about being woken up again.
“So much for sleeping in on my day off.”
When I yank it open, fully prepared for another round of arguing with Havoc, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Stryker on my doorstep, one arm loaded down with grocery bags.
“Morning, beautiful. Fuck, I missed you.” With his free hand, he palms the back of my neck and pulls me in for a fierce kiss that leaves me breathless and disoriented.
“Umm. Good morning?” I figured he’d be way more upset after the disaster last night, but if anything, he seems downright giddy.
He kicks the snow off his boots before coming in, shutting the door behind him as he heads for the kitchen. “Have you three had breakfast yet?”
“Just Z and me, and no. Devlin took off after I filled him in last night to blow off some steam.”
Mid-setting the bags on the kitchen counter, he pauses.
“He left you here alone?” He turns to face me with a scowl I know isn’t directed at me.
“He was supposed to stay the night. If I’d known he was going to bail, I wouldn’t have bothered packing my bags and would’ve headed straight here.
You promised me when you left with your brother, or I never would have let you out of my sight. ”
“I wasn’t alone, I had Zayd. Hence why he’s still asleep, he crashed hard after staying up all night on watch.”
That softens his agitation with a ghost of a soft smile. “You finally settled on a name, then?”
Excitement rushes back in like it happened mere seconds ago, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. “No, he told me himself! And he didn’t automatically tear Havoc’s head off when he showed up this morning.” Under my breath, I mumble, "Unfortunately.”
“Havoc?” he asks, and I exhale heavily, bringing him up to speed on all that drama.
Stryker runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Got it, don’t let you out of my sight ever again. Good thing my schedule is wide open now.”
“What are you talking about?”
He unloads the bags and shrugs. “My father named Sebastian his successor, so I quit. I’m not working under that monster.”
My heart skips a beat, guilt twisting my stomach. “Gods, you must hate me. I’m so sorry, Stryker, I can’t believe he played me so easily. It’s my fault you lost everything.”
“Like hell it is. Sebastian’s a snake; no one could have guessed he’d go to such extremes to sabotage me.
“But you came to me for help, and all I’ve managed to do is make everything worse. If your powers were working at full capacity last night, then maybe-”
He silences me with a rough kiss. “Then it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. This isn’t on you, Kiara. It’s not on me either. It’s on Sebastian for being a manipulative piece of shit that thinks people are nothing more than pawns for him to use whenever it suits him.”
I slump against him, soaking up his confidence. Stealing yet another thing from the man that’s given me everything without expecting anything in return.
“That said, don’t think I’ve forgotten you promised me an explanation,” he murmurs into my hair.
I stiffen automatically, hackles up. It takes a conscious effort to force my muscles to relax, to remind myself that Stryker isn’t like the people I grew up around.
He isn’t going to praise my brother, then insult me in the same breath.
He isn’t going to think I’m a drain on resources, or that it’s a good thing my parents aren’t alive to see what an embarrassment I am to the family name.
I take a few moments to brace myself before confessing everything.
The backlash problem. How it’s gotten worse.
How I’d secretly hoped that if I could figure out his problem, it’d be the answer to finding a cure for myself, too.
But our problems aren’t the same, and instead, all I’ve done is get his hopes up and waste his time.
Even though I was upfront when he hired me, I still feel like a failure.
And that maybe it was the high-stress situation of last night, but it took a solid three minutes before the pain ebbed and my veins went back to normal.
So it’s only a matter of time before the blowback reaches my heart and either cannibalizes my powers, or kills me.
When the silence stretches so long it’s painful, I risk pulling back to nervously gauge his reaction. Pretty sure my info dump short circuited his brain, his face stuck in a state of horrified incredulity. When he reboots? All the color comes back with a vengeance.
“You never even made a sound,” he says with unnerving calm, gaze roaming over my face, assessing. Searching for answers. “Every single session we had together you were hurting yourself, and you didn’t say a word. Not so much as a hiss.”
I frown. “What does that have to do with anything?”
His eyes flash. “You’re so used to suffering in silence, it’s second nature for you to just… accept it. Part of your daily routine, no big deal to sacrifice your own health for someone else’s. How long have people been taking advantage of your abilities that this is normal for you?”
My heart lodges in my throat. “They don’t, actually.
Back home, nobody wanted me to work on them unless I was the only option.
It’s why I ended up taking care of magical creatures; somebody had to.
And none of them ever asked me for help, I gave it freely because I wanted to.
I like helping people, but especially animals.
And I’m good at both. Nobody forced my hand. ”
My stomach chooses that awkward moment to growl loudly, and I cringe. Eyes closed, Stryker sucks in a deep breath through his nose, exhaling slowly.
“I’m not letting this go, but we can table it for later. After last night, I think we both need a break from heavy topics.” Kissing the top of my head, he steps away to start cooking. “Why don’t you open your gift while you wait for food to be ready?”
“Gift?” I look over the bags he brought, but they all look like ingredients. To be fair, that in itself is an amazing present. “Isn’t you making me breakfast the gift?”
He snorts. “No, that’s me sucking up for inviting myself to move in with you.” With his spatula, he points at the box Havoc left behind. “That one.”
“Seriously?”
Pan sizzling as he adds the butter to melt, he shrugs. “Why not? Maybe it's full of candy.”
I snort. “More likely a severed head.”
“Sounds romantic to me.” He winks over his shoulder.
“From what you told me, it sounds like there was a hell of a lot of miscommunication on both sides. Yeah, he could have demanded your number from Arson, but I can also see why he didn’t.
If he thought you were giving him the cold shoulder, for either the situation or age gap insecurity, being too overbearing and forcing himself into your life could’ve chased you away for good.
And I mean this with all the love in the world, babe, but…
you could’ve asked Arson for his number, too.
The situation sucks, and I’m not trying to downplay how much he hurt you, but put yourself in his shoes for a minute.
He’s trying to apologize for something you both had a hand in, so maybe it’s time to consider wiping the slate clean and start fresh.
Give him another chance to either sink or swim. ”
For words delivered so carefully, they sit heavily in my chest. Because as much as it pains me to admit it, he’s right.
Havoc fucked up, but… so did I. If what he’s claiming is true, he didn’t abandon me.
It’s also perfectly understandable that he wanted to keep me out of harm’s way while he cleaned house.
If I take a second and look past my hurt, I think what I’ve been stuck on was being left alone in the dark to figure everything out the hard way.
The radio silence without having the peace of mind to reassure me that he didn’t want to be away from me, and would come back as soon as it was safe to.
Sending me away hit every one of my childhood traumas that I’ve tried so hard to overcome, and dashed my dreams of a fated mate magically fixing all of my problems in one fell swoop.
But a big part of that hurt is on me for putting Havoc up on a pedestal with impossible expectations nobody could live up to, and being mad at him when he fell short.
It’s easy to forget that we’re human when we’re surrounded by magic most people can only dream of.
The paper is wrapped with impressive, mildly obsessive, precision.
Every crease is perfect, each fold symmetrical.
Hell, I’d wager the money I unintentionally stole from Stryker’s brother chilling in my wallet that every single piece of tape is the same length down to the millimeter, equally spaced.
You’d think a military general wrapped the thing instead of someone that runs a guild hall.