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The panther roared in pain and outrage, but Nero just drank furiously, his eyes glowing red-hot like the embers of a fire.
Quentin was panting as he dropped onto the floor next to Caden. “I’ve got it from here. You can move back,” he said softly, meeting Caden’s gaze.
“No, he deserves to die. I have to kill him,” Caden said. His fingers twitched, but he couldn’t make himself sink his claws into his throat, not now that he was unarmed.
All of the shifters he’d been forced to kill flashed in front of his eyes, but it wasn’t the same. This man deserved it! He’d tried to kill him and then just tried to kill his mate!
Why couldn’t Caden just do it?
He didn’t realize he was crying until Quentin cupped his chin and raised his face, soothingly wiping away the wetness. “You don’t need to kill him, kitten, but he does deserve to die.”
He licked his lips and stared at Quentin. “You shouldn’t have to.”
Quentin shook his head, stopping him. “You hated killing, but it’s something I’ve grown… accustomed to over the years. Let me do this for you.”
Caden swallowed and backed up, keeping most of his weight on Tiho’s legs so he couldn’t get up.
Dare moved closer. “I can do it.”
But Quentin shook his head, taking Caden’s place. He pinned Tiho to the ground with one hand on his chest. “No, this is my kill. You’ve been living on borrowed time, Tiho,” he said, almost soothingly. “Ever since you laid hands on my mate, you had to know this day would come.”
“This isn’t over—” Tiho started to say, but Quentin didn’t let him.
His fingers, tipped with long claws, sliced through his throat. Blood sprayed all over him and Tiho.
“Couldn’t have just broken his neck, huh,” Dare said dryly.
For some reason, that set Caden off to laughing, the reminder of the first time he’d been in the penthouse and watched Dare kill someone. Quentin had made the same complaint.
He laughed and laughed until the humor turned to relieved, gasping sobs, and then Quentin’s arms were around him.
He stank of blood, but there were still orange blossoms underneath, so he buried his face in his neck and just breathed.
Chapter Seventeen
Climbing to his feet was awkward since he refused to let go of Caden, but he finally managed it and then faced Nero and Dare.
His Enforcers.
Shit, he really did have a pack.
“Call the cleaners and get them—”
Nero clapped him on the shoulder, a line of blood staining his ridiculously handsome from the corner of his mouth to his Adam’s apple. “We got this. Take care of him.”
He gave them both an appreciative nod and then dragged Caden away from the living room and all of the blood and dead bodies. He steered them past the guest room that Caden had slept in the one night he’d been there and went all the way down to Quinten’s.
He pushed the door open and then closed it quickly behind them.
“Caden, can you look at me?”
Caden shook his head, pressing in closer.
“Kitten, I just need to make sure that you’re alright.”
He could feel wetness on his neck, and it killed him that he was crying, that all of this bullshit was bringing back some of the worst memories of his life. But he was grateful that his sweet mate hadn’t had to actually be the one to kill Tiho.
In fact, Quinten was more than a little glad that he was the one who had gotten the pleasure. He would’ve been happy as long as the man was dead, but the fact that he was dead at his hands felt right in a primal way. He wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of the spell still racing through him or if that’s how he would feel once it wore off too.
