Page 11 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

Because Kit was running his thumb across my palm in slow, deliberate strokes that surely had absolutely nothing to do with applying a bandage. His touch spread wider than the tiny scratch, fingertips tracing patterns across my skin.

My breath caught.

I looked up, meaning to make some joke about battlefield medicine being overkill for a stumble, but the words died in my throat.

Kit’s eyes fixed on mine, and I couldn’t look away. Dark grey, almost storm-coloured, with flecks of silver that made you want to stare more and more at them. A tiny scar cut through his left eyebrow—pale against his skin, barely noticeable unless you were this close.

“You’ve got…” He trailed off, his hand rising towards my face.

I held perfectly still as his fingertips brushed against my cheek, just below my eye. The touch was feather-light—barely there, really—but the intensity of it had my heart thumping.

“Dried blood,” he finished quietly.

The wipe was cool against my skin, but Kit’s fingers burned where they curved against my jaw. His touch lingered. The pad of his thumb traced my cheekbone, following the curve down to the corner of my mouth. My breath hitched, and his hand went perfectly still.

The basement faded away. The throbbing in my cheek disappeared. Even the ever-present hum of anxiety that lived in my chest somehow went quiet.

There was just Kit, kneeling in front of me, touching my face and holding my hand.

And then I saw it—something I’d never quite understood, though I’d seen the expression on Kit’s face before.

Kit looked sad.

Not just sad. Devastated.

Properly, deeply. The kind of sadness that settled into someone’s bones and refused to leave.

Which made absolutely no sense. Why would Kit Thorne, former military hardcase who could probably kill someone with a teaspoon, look so sad whilst staring at me? Was I really that pathetic?

I tilted my head slightly, and Kit lurched his hands away from me like he’d been electrocuted. “Sorry,” he said stiffly. “There was… loads of blood. All over your face. But it’s gone now.”

What the hell?

The urge to flee crashed over me. To disappear back to my cupboard-cum-office until the others arrived. Hide behind multiple monitors and pretend this whole mortifying incident hadn’t happened.

Just as I opened my mouth to make my escape, the blessed sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, and Kit promptly leapt five feet away from me.

Saved by the cavalry.

Seb appeared first, our boss looking immaculate as always in his perfectly tailored charcoal trousers and that long black coat with the brass buttons.

His boyfriend Flynn followed, blue eyes wide as he took in the scene. He didn’t have an official role at Killigrew Street, but he often turned up to meetings anyway, seemingly for the entertainment value.

Rory, blond hair sticking up at odd angles like he’d just rolled out of bed, came last. He looked nothing like his older brother, with his baby face compared to Kit’s thick beard and brown hair. Not to mention he only came up to Kit’s shoulder. In his hands he balanced eight takeaway coffees—two trays of four, the familiar black and white stripes with the orange cat logo marking them as Fat Cat’s finest.

“Why have you got eight cups?” Priya asked, eyebrows raised.

Rory grinned, that mischievous expression that usually meant trouble. “I got Freddy his own decoy decaf coffee. Clever, right?”

Seb turned to Kit, drinking in his appearance. “I didn’t realise the dress code was so casual today.”

“Felix got hurt,” Kit said very seriously, as if I’d been in a car crash.

“I’m fine!” I squeaked, face burning.

“He looks fine to me,” said Rory, handing me a cup with a little frowny face on it. Probably drawn by Rory himself, to mark it as the only one with sugar, which he thought was disgusting. There weren’t any doodles of cats on any of the cups—Wren must not have been on shift.

A grey blur launched itself onto the coffee table with a theatrical chirp, tiny claws scrabbling against the wood for purchase. Freddy’s yellowed eyes gleamed with that eerie undead light.