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“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked.
“Tell me where you went when you regained control of the monster,” he said instead. I growled. I didn’t want to give him that personal information. “You can cooperate, Killian, or I can bring Dante back in here to help convince you. Beau may have a special talent for torture, but he learned from Dante, and Dante doesn’t share all his secrets. Tell me where the fuck you went when you regained control of the monster.”
“Genevieve,” I whispered. “I thought of Genevieve and something she said to me to remind me of who I am.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Tell me, what does it feel like? Having your monster inside you?”
“I can’t…” I shook my head. “I can’t describe it. I don’t know. It’s… it’s like sticking my finger in an electrical socket. Only it’s every fucking nerve in my body. And I can’t…”
“Can’t what, Killian?”
“Thinking of her helps me control it.”
“But you can’t,” Lane stated. “Not really.”
“I can enough,” I countered. “I don’t want to be on your team. I want my life. I worked my fucking ass off to get back to it. To her. You can’t take that away from me.”
“And I said I wouldn’t,” he said once more. “But you’re an unchecked monster, Killian, with no outlet. And unchecked monsters are dangerous.”
“I don’t—”
“How long do you think you can sit behind a desk at the lumber mill before you get restless? Before your monster becomes a problem?” he asked. I stared at him. There was no way in hell he could’ve known I called Sebastian to accept the job. And why wouldn’t I with twins on the way? “I make it my business to know these things, Killian. Answer my question.”
“I’d like to think I can make it work for the rest of my fucking life,” I admitted.
“The rest of your fucking life,” Lane repeated. “Do you realize how fucking dangerous you are?”
I said nothing because I didn’t want to say it out loud. I had an inkling of just how dangerous I was—I’d wanted to be this dangerous. What I hadn’t anticipated was the level of control I’d need to maintain this.
“Let me explain to you what almost fucking happened,” he said. “You almost killed your wife. Do you understand that? She was stupid enough to get your attention when you had no control of yourself, lured you to chase her—which you did—and then put herself between you and Beau. It was Beau’s job to make sure you didn’t fucking kill anyone. You got fucking lucky. She talked you back in control, but what if she hadn’t?”
I didn’t want to think about that.
“What if you got out?” he continued without waiting for me to say a fucking thing. “What if you killed her? What if you killed someone else? You are faster and stronger than any fucking human out there. It means they’re your prey.”
“No one is my prey,” I snapped. “And I’m in control.”
“For now,” Lane replied. “And I don’t play games with my monsters. So, here’s what we’re going to do, Killian. I branded you.”
“You did what?”
“That spell, it won’t make you immortal. But it will make you impossible to kill when you’re in a fight. No gun, knife, physical or metaphysical weapon will fucking kill you. It’s as close to immortality as I can get you without removing you from time. The harder you’re fighting for your life, the better it works. It’s why Keagan could cut you, but Beau couldn’t shoot you,” he explained. Jesus fucking Christ. I ran my palm over the front of my torn shirt. I didn’t have a fucking mark where Beau had shot me, but I did have a fresh scar from where Keagan had sliced me open. Apparently, the longer the spell settled, the faster I healed. “You work for my team and my team only. You will not take on any other hunting jobs unless I clear it first. You will work your desk job, be a husband, be a father, be a pack leader, and do whatever else you feel you have to do. But every year for two weeks, you belong to me.”
“Now, hold on—”
“There’s no room for negotiation,” he cut me off. “Two weeks, your ass is mine. And I plan to run your beast into the ground those two weeks. If I tell you to kill, you will kill. If I tell you to capture, you will capture. If I tell you to chase your proverbial wolf tail, you’ll chase that fake tail of yours until your fucking legs fall off. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yeah,” I growled.
“You will be extraordinarily compensated for those two weeks. My team always is. All expenses are paid, and you will travel the world. Dante and Maia are off to Russia tomorrow.”
“Sucks for Russia.”
“Not when they’ll save thousands by taking out a hive of mutant fae living in the woods,” Lane stated. Of course. Mutant fae. Why not? “If two weeks isn’t enough… if you ever find yourself struggling, you call me, and I’ll handle it.”
“How?” I asked. He considered me for a long moment.
“Did you know I own nine nightclubs around the country?” he told me instead. “And six in other countries?”
