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Amora
Kian stalks up the stairs,his footsteps so heavy I’m afraid he’s going to fall right through the thin wooden planks. I stare after him, a sick feeling churning in my stomach.
Something clanks over by the benches. I swing my attention back to Malix as he draws a long length of rusted chain out of a wooden crate. He hefts it in his hands over the sound of Kian’s fading footsteps. Clearly, he’s not the least bit bothered or worried by the way his brother just stalked out.
I glance up at the ceiling overhead as it creaks beneath Kian’s weight. A moment later, the front door slams shut so hard it almost shakes the entire house.
Malix crosses to me, the chain dangling from one hand and a few pieces of hardware gripped in the other. He stops a foot away from me, shooting a glance up at the ceiling as he rolls a carabiner in between his thumb and forefinger.
“He’s fucked up right now,” he says, his full lips pulling to one side in a grimace. “He gets like this sometimes. Nothing to do but let him deal.”
I snort. “Somehow, I don’t think his method of ‘dealing’ is very healthy.”
Malix leans in and presses a quick, chaste kiss to my lips. “Kitty, nothing Kian does is healthy. You just gotta let him fall apart. He’ll pull himself back together afterward.”
As quick as it was, my lips still tingle from his kiss, and for a second, I can almost forget all the bad stuff. I have a wild impulse to grab Malix before he walks away and make him kiss me even more thoroughly. Maybe we could lose ourselves in each other for a while. It certainly worked the last two times.
But then my gaze drifts to Frost’s unconscious form. No part of me wants to leave his side, not until he wakes up and I’m sure he’s okay. I hit him hard, and clearly, something is wrong inside him. Something to do with the overburdening of shadows Quinton put on him. He’s like a balloon too full of air and on the verge of bursting.
He needs me. He needs us.
Obviously, though, Kian is upset too. When a man who doesn’t usually show his emotions appears to suddenly be drowning in them, there’s no way to deny that something is desperately wrong.
Motioning with my chin toward the stairs Kian went up, I say, “Should I go check on him?”
Malix shrugs, striding back over to the water heater. “Up to you.”
“Nobody should have to pull themselves back together without a friend. Not after what we just went through.”
He drops the chains next to Frost’s splayed legs and squats down to check the pulse in his neck. “You don’t really believe that. How long were you solo, dealing with your own shit, ‘pulling yourself back together’ when things got tough?”
“Fair point,” I hedge. Still, the thought of Kian out there in the cool early morning feeling some kind of shitty way makes my stomach roll uncomfortably. “Maybe that’s why I care, though. Maybe I’m tired of being alone with my feelings, especially now that I know it’s better to have company.”
“Kian has never been one for company.”
“Which is probably why he almost spontaneously combusted trying to revive Frost,” I point out.
Malix’s deft hands, which have been poking and prodding at Frost’s still form, drop back to his knees, and he glances over at me with a smirk, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. “Guess I can’t argue that one.”
I bit my lip, shifting my gaze to the sleeping man at his side. “How is he?”
“I think he’s going to be okay,” Malix assures me, then reaches for the chains. “Just a bump on the head. No broken bones that I can see. He’s had worse.”
Like the poison we both survived.
And being dead only a couple hours ago.
The reminder of both of those awful things, and how difficult he’s had it lately, makes me want to forget Kian and go sit by Frost’s side forever. But I can’t forget Kian. I can’t shove him out of my heart no matter how many times I’ve tried, and even though he’s not even in the house anymore, it’s as if I can still feel his pain hovering in the air around us.
Malix winds the chain around Frost’s wrists, then tosses it over the pipe several feet above his head. Frost leans against the wall, his chin lolling on his chest as his brother secures the chain in place with a clever combination of carabiners and zip ties.
“You go do what you need to, kitty,” Malix says, as if he’s somehow read my thoughts and can sense the conflict raging in my chest. “I’ll look out for Frost. I’ll make sure he’s safe and as comfortable as he can be. He’ll be okay.”
My heart clenches uncomfortably as I gaze down at Frost’s sleeping face. He looks so innocent, even with those black shadow marks racing madly over his body. I want to curl up next to him and keep him warm, to hold him until the shadows calm.
But I can’t do anything for him right now. He’s got Malix to keep him comfortable. All he can do is sleep off the concussion. The moment he awakes, I’ll be there for him.
For now, I can be there for Kian.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Malix and head for the stairs.
“Be careful,” Malix warns, glancing over his shoulder at me. “He’s not himself when he’s upset.”
Pausing at the doorway, I smile sadly back at him. “Who is?”
I make my way through the empty house and out the front door, the screen door slapping loudly behind me as I step onto the deck. The sun is coming up over the plains, illuminating the fields and the few visible houses in the near distance. I hurry off the porch and lift my nose to the air to scent for Kian. The last thing we need is for a nosy neighbor to see people at the abandoned house and to call the cops while we still have an unconscious man chained in the basement.
Not to mention that, for the moment, we’re still all running around buck ass naked. While that’s not abnormal in the shifter world, the humans have a tendency to be offended.
I don’t fancy a trip to human jail or having to beat yet more men over the head with a baseball bat.
Following the faintest hint of Kian’s woodsmoke and whiskey scent, I pass the dilapidated barn that was probably red at one point but now looks more like a muddy brown. I get a whiff of moldy hay and manure that briefly masks Kian’s scent, then circle around the back of the building where it butts up against a small forested area of evergreens.
I pass into the trees, surprised by how perfectly symmetrical the rows are. A man-made forest, it looks like—maybe meant for a Christmas tree farm? I weave my way through the trees, most of which are much taller than me and have wide, fluffy bodies that obscure my path enough to keep me from being able to see Kian. I follow his scent, which is stronger than the evergreen, and at some point, the sharp, coppery tang of blood joins his unique signature.
Worry crawls under my skin like a parade of ants. I don’t know if that scent means he’s hurt himself or someone else.
But I get my answer as soon as I find him.
He’s standing with his back to me, one hand braced against a scrappy little half-dead evergreen, his head hanging. The knuckles of his other hand are bloody, and I can see remnants of his blood on the tree trunk. There’s more smoke to his unique smell now, and I can’t help but think it’s because of his heightened anger.
Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.
