Chapter Six
Redford spent the next three days living on his laptop and phone, coordinating his team from the small second bedroom he’d claimed not only as a sleeping space, but now as a temporary office as well.
The case had blown wide open - a paranormal pharmaceutical company had been using human test subjects without proper consent and covering it up with memory wipes.
It was the kind of stupidly cruel thing that was not only harmful to the humans concerned but could expose the entire paranormal community if anything they’d been doing had been leaked.
He barely noticed the hours passing as he reviewed documents, authorized raids, and talked his team through the delicate balance of building an airtight case while keeping it from human authorities.
The only thing he saw, or paid the slightest bit of attention to outside of his computer, was Damon. Or more specifically, the way Damon was caring for him.
A mug of coffee appeared at his elbow precisely when he needed it.
Damon never interrupted him too early, and he made sure Redford wasn’t on a call when he entered the room.
The first time, Redford had glanced up to find Damon already retreating.
Damon just pointed at the coffee mug and made his way out the door.
“Thank you.” The least Redford could do was show he was appreciative, but Damon had already disappeared, and from the noise going on over at the castle, Redford guessed he was there.
Around noon, a sandwich materialized on a plate beside his laptop.
Turkey and cheese between thick slabs of fresh bread.
Damon didn’t know they were mates, so Redford didn’t think that had anything to do with how Damon seemed to know how he liked his sandwiches.
But if it was Damon’s lucky guess, it hit the nail on the head…
and soothed the rumbling in Redford’s stomach.
It was clear, when Redford had two minutes to think about anything except the case, that Damon was taking care of him, not because of the mate bond, but because he wanted to. The thought settled warm in Redford’s chest, right where his gargoyle had been rumbling possessively for days.
“Oh, good, you’ve got a minute,” Damon said later, appearing at the door. “You’ve been staring at the screen for four hours. Your eyes are going to fall out.”
“That’s not physically possible.” Redford leaned back in his chair, trying to stretch out the ache in his shoulders.
“Humor me.” Damon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
He’d clearly come from the castle, dust on his jeans and one of those worn T-shirts that showed off his arms. “You need to take a break and walk around. It wouldn’t hurt for you to look at something that isn’t a computer for a few minutes. ”
“I can’t, I’m waiting for…”
“You’re waiting for them to send files that won’t arrive for another twenty minutes according to what you told them. I was listening.” Damon’s smile was gentle. “Twenty-minute break. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“I’m older than most doctors, and I’m older than you. That should count for something.”
Despite the stress of the case, Redford found himself smiling as he pushed himself out of his chair. “That’s terrible logic.”
“And yet you’re standing up.” Damon pushed off the doorframe. “Come on. Fresh air. The case isn’t going to fall apart if you take a few moments out of this room.”
Redford saved his files and followed Damon outside. The Highland air was crisp and clean, and he inhaled, letting every exhale reduce his stress. His gargoyle stretched beneath his skin, pleased to be outside and pleased to be near their mate.
The stones were singing – they wouldn’t stop until Damon was claimed. But Redford noticed other things too. The gentle breeze, the smell of heather, and the absolute quiet now the contractors had gone for the day.
“Better?” Damon asked.
“Yeah.” Redford rolled his shoulders and stretched out his arms. “Thanks for forcing me outside.”
“That’s what...” Damon trailed off, looking away toward the castle. “That’s what people do, right? Make sure you don’t work yourself to death.”
That’s what mates do, Redford’s gargoyle supplied helpfully. That’s what partners do.
And it was. Damon had been looking after him for three days now, quietly making sure Redford ate, slept, and took breaks.
Never hovering, never intrusive, never demanding Redford share details about what he was doing.
He was just...there, and while Damon might not know it, it meant the world to Redford.
“How’s the castle work going?” Redford asked, because he needed to think about something other than how badly he wanted to pull Damon close and kiss him senseless.
“Good. We’ve got the west wing stabilized and found some interesting stuff in one of the old storage rooms – a few really old weapons and some bits of pottery that are about your age.
” Damon’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Duncan, the local mail delivery person here, thinks some of it might be valuable. We’ve been careful with it. ”
“You like the work.”
“I like using my hands. Making things solid again.” Damon glanced at him. “The castle has good bones. It deserves to stand for another few centuries.”
“Maybe longer, if we do it right.”
“We?” Damon’s eyebrows rose.
Redford hadn’t meant to say that. He had come to the castle intending to fix it and sell it and definitely hadn’t meant to include himself in the castle’s future.
But with Damon by his side, the word had slipped out naturally.
“I mean...you’ve been doing most of the work.
I should probably say you’ll do it right. ”
“No, I liked ‘we.’” Damon’s smile widened. “It sounds better.”
That heaviness hung between them again as their eyes met.
It was as if the air itself was waiting for just one of them to make the slightest move.
Redford wanted to reach out so badly, to touch and tell Damon that the stones were singing.
But he hadn’t even opened his mouth, and his phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Files are in,” Redford said, checking the message.
“You need to get back to the cottage then. I’ll check on the castle and make sure everything’s secure and then be back to make us dinner.” Damon headed toward the castle. “It’ll be ready about seven.”
“Looking forward to it, thanks.”
/~/~/~/~/
The case broke late that night. His team executed the warrants perfectly, seizing documents and arresting the CEO and three board members.
The pharmaceutical company’s human testing program was shut down, the victims would receive proper care, and the evidence was solid enough to guarantee convictions.
Redford should have felt relieved. Instead, he felt hollowed out. Cases did that to him, or at least they had in the last few years.
It was hard to take pride in the fact that the victims had been saved, when they should never have been targeted in the first place.
There was no pleasure that could be taken from knowing the perpetrators would likely never see the sun rise again – they were paranormal, and the paranormal court had a more decisive way of dealing with criminals than the human system did.
Reading the testimony from the victims, looking at the medical reports and understanding what they went through, and then having to go through every line of the financial reports showing just how much profit those assholes had gained from hurting others…
It made Redford sick inside, because no matter how loudly his team might be celebrating tonight – and they deserved to - by tomorrow, there would be another case and even more victims. People who had their right to live a normal life stripped away because of another’s greed.
Entitled paranormals who thought they could hurt others without consequences.
It was nearly midnight when he finally closed his laptop. The cottage was quiet. Damon had brought him dinner hours ago - some kind of pasta that Redford had barely tasted – before retreating to give him space.
Redford should sleep. He seriously needed to be in his bed and try to shut his brain off for at least a few hours. Instead, he got up from his chair and silently walked down the short hallway toward Damon’s room. Maybe he’s still awake?
But no. The door was open, just a crack, but wide enough that Redford could see inside without touching the door at all.
Damon slept on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, his other resting over the blankets which had been pushed down to his waist. The room was dark, but Redford’s gargoyle lent him some night vision – enough for Redford to see how peaceful Damon looked.
He’s stunning. Despite being so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, Redford felt his cock stir.
Touching the doorframe, Redford wasn’t sure what he was doing – stopping himself from going in or giving himself a push.
His logical brain, which still managed to function but only just, knew that all he had to do was walk inside, climb on that bed, and tell Damon that he already knew they were fated.
His gargoyle urged him forward. Mate. Ours. Claim him.
But Redford forced himself to stay where he was, doubts clouding his tired mind.
What if Damon didn’t want forever? What if he was happy with his solitary life in the Highlands and Redford showing up claiming they were mates was more of a burden than a blessing?
What if the last three days of quiet care had just been Damon being kind, not Damon feeling the same pull Redford felt?
Damon shifted in his sleep, making a soft sound, almost as though he was chuckling in his dreams. Redford stepped back from the door – I need to sleep. I desperately need to sleep.
Making his way back to his room, Redford let his exhaustion overtake him. Falling on the bed, he barely remembered to kick his shoes off before he buried his face in his pillow.
Tomorrow, he promised himself. I’ll tell him everything tomorrow. He’ll either accept me or he won’t…and…I’ll deal with whatever happens then.
If nothing else, Damon deserved more than a completely overwhelmed and exhausted mate who’d barely spoken to him in three days.
I’ll tell him tomorrow.
/~/~/~/~/
Morning came too early. Redford dragged himself out of bed feeling like he’d been hit by a truck, who’d then reversed and hit him again just for shits and giggles.
The case was done, but the exhaustion – not helped by the burnout he’d been suffering just a few weeks before - remained. By the stones, I’m a fucking mess.
Coffee. He needed coffee. Maybe then Redford would start to feel halfway human – which admittedly was the most he felt human on any day.
The kitchen smelled like breakfast when he shuffled in. Damon stood at the stove, hair still damp from the shower, cooking what looked like eggs and bacon.
“Morning,” Damon said without turning around. “You look like hell.”
How can you tell? Is it the way I’m walking? “Yeah, I feel like it too.”
“Did you get the case finished?”
“Yep. It was a late night, but it’s all done.” Redford collapsed into the nearest chair.
Damon plated food and set it in front of him. “Eat. Then sleep. The castle can wait another day.”
Redford’s protest was automatic. “I’m fine.”
“You’re dead on your feet.” Damon poured coffee, added exactly the right amount of sugar and cream, and set it at Redford’s elbow. “Eat. Sleep. That’s an order.”
“Excuse me, but you can’t order me around.”
“Watch me.” But Damon’s smile was gentle. “You’ve been running yourself ragged for days. Take a break.”
But I wanted to… Redford realized he was too tired to even finish the thought, let alone do anything about it. Unfortunately, Damon was right. He ate mechanically, tasting nothing, his mind still cycling through snippets of case details and reports.
“Hey.” Damon’s hand landed on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. “It’s done. You did good. Now rest.”
“How do you know I did good?”
“Because you wouldn’t accept anything less.” Damon squeezed gently. “I’ve been watching you work. You don’t half-ass things.”
The praise shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.
Redford had been doing his job for decades, had received countless commendations, and had built a reputation as one of the bureau’s best. But Damon’s simple acknowledgment hit him in the best way.
My mate has been paying attention to me, and that was worth more than gold.
“Go back to sleep,” Damon said gently. “I’ll wake you for lunch.”
Redford made it back to his room and collapsed onto the bed, still fully clothed. Sleep dragged him under immediately, and this time, thank goodness, it was dream-free.
He woke up to late afternoon light and the sound of voices outside - Damon was talking with the contractors.
Checking his phone, he could see several messages from his team, all positive updates about the case.
Everything was handled, everything was fine…
except for Redford, whose eyes still felt as though someone had thrown sand in them.
I’ll definitely tell him tomorrow, was Redford’s last conscious thought before sleep pulled him under again.