Chapter 21
After knocking out the Shifter, Krys checked on Virgil, who was saying his goodbyes in dramatic fashion, convinced a bullet was lodged in his brain and he was shuffling off this mortal coil. Luckily, the bullet had only grazed the back of his head.
When he shifted to heal, then came the crazy train.
Virgil’s wolf was so amped up on adrenaline that he attacked the man who had shot him. The guy appeared dead, but Krys didn’t bother checking for a pulse.
Once they tied up their attackers, Krys removed the stunner from the Mage to get their names and figure out who they were. Apparently, the guy Virgil had shot was a defective Sensor, so he would heal.
Not that Krys cared. That asshole could’ve killed Virgil, and for that, he deserved to die.
There was a moment when he hovered over the bound men, contemplating whether to finish them off.
Then Cleo blared the horn, which made Virgil shift back.
Virgil had convinced him that reuniting Cleo with her family was more important than a prison sentence.
So they loaded the bodies into the back of the pickup and rolled it off the road.
Before leaving, Virgil shifted twice more to heal.
Had it not been for Virgil’s persuasiveness, Krys would’ve killed all three men. Not because they were assholes, not because of the robbery attempt, and not even because they tried to kill him.
But because they wanted Cleo.
As he stared at the road ahead, music blaring from Cleo’s headphones in the middle row, he quietly fantasized about turning the car around and finishing off those men.
Perhaps on the way home.
He rolled his head around to stretch his neck muscles.
I need to stop thinking about killing before my wolf comes out. Think about something else.
The first thought that sprang to mind was the previous night. The visual of Virgil’s hooded gaze and serpentine movements left a smoldering imprint on his memory. He could fantasize about that forever.
It could’ve wound up being a meaningless sexual interlude, but Virgil looked at him in a way he’d never looked at anyone else.
He didn’t rush or give Krys time to feel anything but desire.
Krys had long wondered what intimacy with another man might look like, but he hadn’t expected it to be tender.
After their shower, they’d lain in each other’s arms, Virgil caressing his chest with reverence, Krys comparing their hand sizes before lacing fingers.
It was 100 percent what he had hoped for: true intimacy with another person.
Krys never had the opportunity to explore relationships during his formative years.
He wasn’t socialized or experienced enough to connect with others intimately or emotionally after fleeing captivity.
His feral wolf had been conditioned to fight when his adrenaline surged and emotions ran high, so he couldn’t differentiate between sex and survival.
The fear of shifting during sex and harming his partner was very real.
Last night was the first time Krys’s wolf had ever howled for anyone, and he didn’t know what to do with that. Especially after Virgil’s remark that he would feel differently in the morning.
Yeah, he did feel differently the next morning.
As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, Krys couldn’t strip his eyes away from the man lying beside him.
Virgil’s dark blond locks were splayed across the pillow, his expression serene, his handsome features worthy of being immortalized in a painting.
They were an angel and a demon who had crossed paths.
Krys often wondered if his father was right—that he was worthless and would bring shame to any pack.
Those words haunted him still.
That morning, he didn’t want to wake Virgil, even to steal a kiss.
Boundaries were important to Krys, and he didn’t want to cross any without permission.
So after checking on Cleo, he headed out to grab breakfast for everyone.
By the time he returned, their bags were packed, and there was no opportunity to talk to Virgil privately about the night before.
Krys snapped out of his thoughts and adjusted the air conditioner before tilting his visor. It was getting late, and he needed to find the motel circled on their map before dark. The plan was to stay overnight and drop Cleo off at her mom’s house in the morning.
Trees lined the road, and golden light filtered through the branches as the sun neared setting.
They crested a hill and emerged from the wooded area. Green pastures to the right held his attention. A red barn stood in contrast to the blue sky and rolling hills behind it.
“Pull over!” Cleo took off her headphones and set them on the dashboard.
He glanced to his right. “You gotta pee?”
“No. I want to take a picture of the sunset. Look at the clouds.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, kid. I can’t drive over guardrails.”
She huffed and stared out the window.
Cleo’s pout hurt worse than any knife, so as soon as he found an exit, he put on his blinker and took a curved road.
She bounced forward from the passenger seat and admired the landscape. “Can you park by the lake?”
“I don’t know where this road goes. If we get pulled over by a cop—”
“We won’t. I promise.”
He laughed while steering up a hill. They didn’t have much time left together, so whatever she wanted, he’d give her… even if he had to move the world.
“Wow, look at that house!” She pressed her nose to the glass. “They live right on the water.”
Krys couldn’t find a place to pull over. Because it was a residential neighborhood with homes, there was no public access to the lake, so it must’ve been private. When he made another turn, they headed away from the glassy water.
“Sorry, kid.”
“Here!” She craned around him to look at a field of yellow wildflowers.
On the two-lane road, he pulled the Tahoe onto the shoulder and backed it in at an angle.
Cleo grabbed her camera and jumped out. When she slammed the door, Krys twisted around to see if Virgil was still asleep in the back seat.
Shifting back and forth multiple times to heal was an exhausting process, so Krys decided not to wake him.
After hopping out, he opened the liftgate and sat down.
Cleo aimed her camera at the setting sun, which probably wasn’t the brightest idea.
A few clouds dotted the sky and were picking up different colors like orange and lavender.
After a moment, she skipped through the flowers in search of something else to photograph.
He looked over his shoulder when Virgil climbed over the seats and landed on their luggage. After opening the cooler, he sat on Krys’s right.
Krys touched his leg. “How’s your head?”
“Empty as usual.” Virgil cracked open the soda and took a swig. “Are you pissed at me?”
“For what?”
“Stopping you from wasting those guys.”
Krys accepted the soda Virgil offered and sipped. Icy water from the cooler coated the can and trickled down his arm. “I wanted to, but you were right. Cleo didn’t need to see that either.”
Virgil laughed and ended it with an unapologetic snort. “Did you see her with the frying pan? That thing weighs more than she does.” He laughed some more.
Krys chuckled. He should’ve been furious about Cleo leaving the safety of the vehicle, but the way she flounced off, her tail flicking back and forth while she swung that frying pan, was too much.
She had a courageous animal, and although they shared space at the same time, Cleo remained in control.
Perhaps her animal sensed they were in grave danger and resisted any impulsive behavior to jump into the fray.
Their dynamics were fascinating, but unfortunately, Krys wouldn’t have the privilege of watching her grow into her power.
Virgil reclaimed his soda and guzzled it while Cleo squatted and photographed flowers. “When they held you captive, did anyone ever hurt you?”
“Every damn time they threw me in the ring.”
Virgil raked his hair out of his face. “No, I mean… did anyone ever abuse you? Sexually or otherwise. You were just a kid.”
“No. Vampires operated the fighting ring, and their job was to keep us alive. The only thing they ever did was starve me before a match.”
“Why?”
Krys wiped his hand on his jeans. “A hungry wolf fights better, especially when he knows he’ll be rewarded with food if he wins.” Krys felt strangely comfortable sharing dark pieces of his life he hadn’t even told Archer. “They forced me to hurt all those people. That was punishment enough.”
Virgil swung his legs. “Did you fight animals or people in human form? Was it only Shifters?”
“The moneymakers pitted different Breeds against each other. I fought Shifters eighty percent of the time, but then they might throw me in with a Mage or a Sensor one night. But it was mostly Shifters. They didn’t want to risk losing all their fighters.”
Virgil set the can next to him. “I’m surprised you’re not covered in scars.”
Krys leaned back on his hands and sighed as painful memories of all his injuries flooded back.
“They didn’t like us scarred. Some operations didn’t care and chained up their fighters, so their wounds healed slowly.
Our keepers weren’t like that. If we refused to shift and heal ourselves, the Vamps forced us to drink their blood. ”
“Why go through all that effort? It almost sounds like they cared.”
Krys scoffed. “They didn’t. Scars are the marks of experienced fighters. That’s how we could tell which of our opponents would be harder to beat.”
“Wouldn’t your keepers want everyone to know you’re a badass?”
“Nope. Fighters took one look at us and let their guards down. Cocky men make mistakes. Since we never fought the same person twice, we had to quickly assess our opponent before the match started. Sometimes physically, but other times we talked shit to measure their confidence. I do have one scar.” He lowered his head and felt beneath his hairline for the spot.
After jumping down, Virgil leaned over him to examine the mark.