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“I hate this clandestine bullshit,” Sloane grumbled as he climbed off the bed.
Dex looked thoughtful, but he didn’t share those thoughts with Sloane.
Sloane never paced. At least he didn’t used to. Lately, thanks to his feral half, he found himself doing it frequently. His inner Felid seemed to be in a constant state of restlessness. Watching his mate being poked and prodded certainly didn’t help. What the hell was taking so long? Just how many tests did they plan on doing? Sloane was surprised Dex had any blood left with everything they drew. Dex didn’t complain, though that was likely due to the constant supply of cookies and orange juice.
Hours later, TIN was conducting one final health check on Dex before releasing him, but they appeared incapable of doing it without manhandling him. All Sloane wanted was to take Dex home so he could keep him close and safe. That was his goal above all else.
One operative checked Dex’s pupils while another inspected Dex’s bare torso. Why the hell was it necessary for them to have Dex stand there in nothing but his blue boxer briefs? Sloane flexed his fingers as he paced, his narrowed gaze on the dark-haired Therian running his hands down Dex’s back. In two strides, Sloane was beside the operative and snatching a hold of his wrist.
“The bruises on his ass haven’t gone anywhere since you last checked fifteen minutes ago,” Sloane snarled.
The handsome young Therian tugged his wrist free from Sloane’s grip, his lips pressed in a thin line.
“We’re almost done, Agent Brodie,” a female TIN operative offered gently.
“You were almost done three hours ago.” Sloane was losing what little patience he had left.
“I’m okay,” Dex assured him, a small smile on his face. Returning Dex’s smile, Sloane went back to pacing and supervising Dex’s tests. An hour later they were finally released and dropped off at their house by TIN operatives. Sloane had a bout of uncertainty on the way home, wondering if it was such a good idea after all, but Dex refused to go anywhere else. According to TIN, the house was secure. It was safe for them to return, and a team would be on constant surveillance. Despite all the assurances, Sloane offered one last time as he unlocked the front door.
“You sure you don’t want to accept Ash’s invitation to stay at his place? He’s perfectly cool staying with Cael while we use his apartment.”
Dex shook his head. “This is our home. I won’t let anyone take that away from us.”
“Okay.” Sloane gave the top of his head a kiss before walking in first. He listened for any sounds that shouldn’t be there, his Therian vision helping him see into the dark living room before he switched on the lights.
“What the—”
Everything was exactly where it should be, nothing broken, splintered, or torn.
Dex walked over to the couch and picked up a throw pillow. “I’m guessing the place didn’t look like this when I was taken?”
“No, it didn’t. Must have been TIN.”
Sloane tried his best not to hover, but he was worried about Dex. Whatever his partner needed, Sloane would make sure he received it. Now he just had to figure out what it was Dex needed. It was hard to get a read on Dex. He walked around the living room, looking everything over but not seeming to really see anything in particular, at least not until he spotted his iPod on the dock over the mantle. Sloane’s heart squeezed tight as Dex briskly crossed the room to check it, scrolling through what Sloane assumed were his many playlists. He gave a curt nod.
“It’s all there,” Dex said with a smile. “How about a little rock? I feel like some Blue Öyster Cult.”
The strumming of a guitar and haunting melody of “Don’t Fear the Reaper” floated through the speakers. Dex tapped his foot and bobbed his head, his eyes closed as he absorbed the music. He sang along softly as he played his imaginary guitar through the living room. Sloane’s heart ached at Dex’s choice of song. He took a step forward, then stopped. Dex was in no condition to be exerting himself like that, but if this was what he needed, Sloane would go along with it.
During the guitar solo, Dex headed into the kitchen, and Sloane followed. He grabbed himself a bottle of water from the fridge as Dex searched through the drawers, the cutlery one getting stuck when he tried to close it.
“They could have at least fixed this stupid thing while they were at it. Damn drawer still jams.”
Dex pushed it in, his jaw muscles working when it didn’t budge.
Sloane took note of the subtle changes in the air around Dex, saw him tense. He turned just as Dex yanked the drawer out before shoving it back in, and when it didn’t budge, he drove the drawer in with all his strength, the wood splintering.
“Dex.”
Dex fought with the drawer, each jab harder than the last. The rattling cutlery pierced the quiet before the next song started, and the drawer handle cracked off. Dex was about to kick it when Sloane threw his arms around him.
“Dex, listen to me.”
Dex fought against him before his body went slack and he became deadweight, dropping to his knees with Sloane following him to the floor. He brought Dex into his embrace, rocking him gently and soothing him, his heart breaking. Dex buried his face against Sloane’s shoulder, his fingers digging into Sloane’s biceps.
“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay.”
Dex’s fingers tightened their grip, his body trembling. It was starting to sink in. Sloane had wondered how long it would take. With Dex there was no knowing. All Sloane could do was take care of him as best he could.
