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“I can feel you catastrophizing,” Ethan said. “That’s usually what I would do.”
“That’s good, because then it would be the two of us worried sick about how things are going to turn out.”
“But thanks to your presence in my soul, I’m not catastrophizing. I’m planning contingencies.” Ethan leaned into Rook’s chest. “I understand the fear – that’s something I’ve always been familiar with. The bond makes the risk feel more manageable.”
“The bond makes me want to lock you in this house and never let you near danger again.” Rook’s arms tightened. “But you wouldn’t be you if you stayed safe while others were in danger. And I don’t want you different. I just want you alive.”
“Then we’ll make sure I stay that way.” Ethan turned, meeting his eyes. “Together, the way partners should be.”
Rook kissed him, softly and yet claiming all at once. “Partners,” he agreed roughly, as he pushed Ethan’s hair back off his face. “But if Pope touches you, I’m eating his heart while it’s still beating.”
“That seems fair. Just make sure you wash your hands afterward.”
Chapter Fifteen
They actually took the rest of the weekend off. Detective Rowsell was on leave for a few days, which Thorn said worked out perfectly because all of the guardians needed to feed. They took turns going out, picking up, and disposing of the lowlifes that seemed to think they ruled the streets after dark. Rook was the last to go, and he was barely gone an hour before he was back, his shadows engulfing Ethan from the second he got the roof door open. That had led to an interesting night for the newly mated pair. Rook was remarkably more energetic after feeding.
Silas built the bait Tuesday morning - a shell corporation inquiry about authenticating a fifteenth-century manuscript, mentioning Ethan’s credentials “came highly recommended” by a European collector. They sent it at nine a.m.
Pope responded by noon.
Mr. Park, your expertise with Central European occult texts is precisely what I need. Would you be available Wednesday afternoon to assess a recent acquisition? I believe your background makes you uniquely qualified. Sebastian Pope
“He knows,” Ethan said, reading over Silas’s shoulder.
“Of course he knows.” Silas pulled up Pope’s communication history, tracking the response through three proxy servers before it hit their decoy email. “He’s been watching you since Rook interfered outside the theater. I’m not sure how, but if the tracking sigil could pick up enough of your essence from your locker, it’s possible Pope has confirmation that you’re now bonded. I imagine he wants to see what leverage a mate provides over a guardian.”
Rook’s shadows had punched through the drywall before he caught himself.
“Wednesday afternoon is good,” Thorn said. “That gives us thirty-six hours to set up some safety protocols for you, Ethan.”
I can do that.
/~/~/~/~/
Rook spent those thirty-six hours listing every possible disaster…more than once.
“If shooting starts, you hit the ground.” They were in the training room, Ethan standing in the center while Rook paced. “Don’t run, don’t try to find cover, just drop. My shadows will reach you faster if you’re low.”
“Drop immediately. Noted.” Ethan typed on his phone.
“If Pope tries to grab you, the bond will spike. I’ll feel it the second his hand makes contact.”
“How long between contact and your arrival?”
“Four seconds if I go through the walls.” Rook’s shadows coiled tight. “Two if I don’t care about structural damage.”
“Structural damage seems acceptable given the circumstances.”
“If the bond feels wrong…” Rook stopped in front of him. “I mean it, Ethan. If anything spikes your fear or the connection goes cold, that’s the abort signal. You walk out.”
“Define ‘wrong.’” Ethan looked up from his notes. “The bond transmits emotional resonance, but fear is a normal response to danger. How do I differentiate between appropriate anxiety and a genuine threat indicator?”
Rook pulled him close, letting his shadows wrap around Ethan’s arms where the mate marks glowed faintly beneath his skin. “You’ll know, my mate. The bond doesn’t just carry fear, it carries intent. If your intuition tells you Pope plans to hurt you, you’ll feel it like ice in your veins.”
Ethan’s pulse jumped against Rook’s palm. “Ice in my veins. Abort immediately. Understood.”
“Good.” Rook kissed his forehead, breathing him in. “Because if something happens to you, I’m going to do things to Pope that makes Cillian and the Vane warehouse situation look merciful.”
