Page 7 of Heat Lightning

Good, my alpha huffed. No nighttime visitors.

I shook my head. The sooner I killed Weber, the sooner I could move on from whatever weird attachment I’d formed to the boy before it clouded my judgement.

Yeah, it would be a shame for that to happen…

With one last check to confirm no one was watching, I knelt, ready to pick the lock, only for the damn knob to turn and open without any coaxing at all.

Steam nearly billowed out of my ears.

What was he thinking? Did he not lock his doors? Why would he do something so stupid? I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. This was worse than wearing headphones while walking through a dark parking lot.

Anybody could just waltz right in. There were so many weirdos out there. I could be a psycho, or a murderer.

Well, I was, but I wasn’t there to murder him.

Exasperated, I blew out a heavy sigh. If he asked me to watch over him…

I would make sure he fucking locked his front door at night.

Pushing it open, the door caught on a makeshift lock made out of a hanger attached to a bungee cord. Reaching around, I unhooked the rope from the knob and slid inside.

When I tried to lock the door behind me, however, the mechanism merely spun around and around, explaining the jerry-rigging.

My alpha bristled. So, the omega wasn’t careless; he was just subject to the whims of the complex’s maintenance worker.

I made a mental note to look up who that was, and maybe even pay them a visit.

Now inside, I paused. The apartment was sparsely furnished and smelled of damp, old carpet. I wrinkled my nose. It overpowered his toasted vanilla scent.

Thankfully, nothing stirred, and the lights were off. He must be asleep.

On silent feet I paced down the hall, following his scent. I passed an open bathroom door, and halted on the threshold of the only other room in the apartment. It had to be…

Yes. The bedroom.

His scent concentrated here. Saliva filled my mouth at the overwhelming aroma of sweet, warm omega. Overlapping currents of so many emotions and sensations were in this room: peace, worry, stress, mirth, desire, lust, exhaustion. They permeated his home.

His nest, my alpha rumbled. We’re in his nest.

There was just enough light filtering in from the street lamps outside to see without a flashlight. Tucked into a twin mattress pushed up against the far wall, the omega slept, a mess of blonde hair peeking out of the covers and face smooshed into his pillow while he breathed deeply, undisturbed.

I stared, gaze caught on his relaxed face while the covers shifted up and down, up and down, up and down. It calmed something in me to see him safe and at peace. I hadn’t realized how agitated I’d become over the unlocked front door.

The omega huffed a sleepy noise and squirmed under the blankets. My alpha’s ears perked up, head cocked. He liked that noise. What others would he make if we⁠—

I shook my head. No. I was not here to be a fucking creep.

Scanning the room, I noted the only personal details I’d found so far—a series of picture frames carefully set atop his dresser.

They were all of him at different ages posing with a petite blonde woman who shared his blinding smile. In one, he was a chubby toddler dressed as Batman, cradled on her hip. In another, he was an awkward teen wearing glasses too big for his face, who clearly didn’t want his picture taken. The woman’s arm was around his shoulders, and he held a trumpet in front of him.

And in the center, he wore a graduation cap and gown, cheeks still round with baby fat and full of youth but with the sad eyes of someone beyond his years. He stood next to a hospital bed, clutching the woman’s hand while she smiled even though she clearly didn’t have the strength to sit up on her own.

I looked away. For the very first time in my years of hunting, guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders.

Max Mayweather wasn’t a target. He had not invited me into his private space and didn’t deserve to have that violated. Those pictures weren’t for me to see.

I took a deep, silent breath to center myself. This is for his own good, I repeated. Just a few more minutes, and I’d be gone, and he’d be none the wiser that a predator lurked in his most personal space.