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“You have your own bedroom. You don’t need to stay in mine.”
“I know… but I want to,” Caden said, frowning. “Do you want me to leave?”
He repeated the question, studying Quinten’s face, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Inhaling deeply, he did his best to decipher his scent. Quinten didn’t smell angry, just confused and tired with the lightest thread of arousal hidden way down deep.
Was that why he was making such a fuss? Did he think Caden would be upset?
Silly human.
Caden snuggled back down and threw his leg over one of Quinten’s, pressing himself as close as he could possibly get into his warm, fragrant skin and sighing happily.
Quinten groaned, his fingers wrapping around one of Caden’s biceps and squeezing.
For a second, he thought Quinten was going to push him away, that he’d separate their bodies and demand Caden get out of his bed, out of his room, maybe even out of his house. That he’d overstepped and broken some sacred human rule.
In the shifter world, when you needed comfort, you got it from your pack, those you felt safest with. Even if he didn’t have a pack, Quinten made him feel safe, so he’d followed his nose and his instincts and come back to his bed to wait for him.
He didn’t shove him away.
Quinten let out a slow breath, and his fingers relaxed. So slowly Caden thought he was imagining it at first, Quinten’s hand slid up until it crested his shoulder before slipping over until he was cupping the back of Caden’s neck. Then he squeezed.
Caden whimpered.
He couldn’t help it.
He felt like… he didn’t even know. It was almost like a cub being held securely by somebody of authority in his pack. He wasn’t a cub, but… that’s what it reminded him of. The firm hold, maybe a gentle shake for attention. Though there was a possessiveness in Quinten’s grip that didn’t remind him of being a cub at all.
He was just so tired, not just physically but mentally. All of the things that he’d been through for the last few months were weighing him down, exhausting him, making it hard for him to turn the next page. He wanted to hand all of that stuff over to Quinten and let him have it. He was already so good at dealing with all kinds of problems and people. Caden was sure that he would handle a little bit more just fine.
His body relaxed even more the longer Quinten held his nape. He inhaled orange blossoms and exhaled all his worries and fears.
For the night, he was going to imagine that he could do that. That Quinten would let him hand over his problems, and he’d shoulder the responsibility of Caden and the mess of his life. That Caden would be able to breathe again. He could live inside the scent of Quinten’s skin, run through the hedge maze in the backyard as his jaguar, hang out with his son, get comfortable enough with Dare to truly tease him.
He let himself imagine those things because he knew when morning came, he would have to let them go and pretend he didn’t want them at all.
Caden couldn’t move.
He could barely breathe, a weight pressing on his chest, constricting his lungs and forcing his heart to work faster and faster.
Everything hurt, but especially the deep gashes right over his left hip. That cheetah had been fierce and nearly taken Caden down. But he’d somehow managed to survive, and now he was in the Gray Room, the place that was even worse than all the other horrors of the place.
His breathing came faster, and black dots covered his vision. He was hyperventilating. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop it. All he could see was the bright gray of the ceiling, his arms fully extended and strapped down. He shivered uncontrollably. The cold metal table he was forced to lie on naked never warmed, no matter how long they kept him here.
Sometimes it felt like days.
He couldn’t see anyone, but he could feel that something was there, getting closer.
Oh goddess, please. He just wanted to go home. Why couldn’t they just kill him already?
Something wet and freezing landed on his thigh with a soft plop and began slithering up his leg. It was a whisper over his skin, leaving behind a cold, aching feeling and stealing the warmth right from his body everywhere it touched.
He craned his head up, trying to see. He had just enough leeway in his restraints to see down the length of his body. A cry of horror ripped from his mouth, his sore throat tearing at the volume and force.
Thick, black sludge was dripping from the ceiling over his legs, where it was collecting and growing bigger, moving rhythmically as it slowly made its way up his body. As he stared at it, the sludge wobbled back and forth, and Caden sucked in a breath.
It was watching him right back.
He screamed and tugged at the restraints holding his limbs down, but there was no give. There was never any give. Goddess, what was that shit?
