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After he climbed in behind the prince and ordered the driver to get them back to the palace as fast as possible, he let Remi scoot closer and hover a hand over where he’d been shot. His light eyes still looked terrified as he stared up at Jeremiah, bottom lip trembling.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure. Probably won’t even scar.”
Remi sucked in a shaky breath and nodded, gaze skating down his bare torso. “I can’t believe someone would try and kill you out in the open like that. That was—”
“Remington.” He paused, sure he’d misheard. “I wasn’t… That man wasn’t after me.”
Pale purple eyes shot back up to his own, damp lips parting. “But… you were the one hurt…”
“Brat,” he murmured, unable to stop himself from cupping Remi’s chin and rubbing his thumb against that pouty lip. “We got fucking lucky. He was aiming for you.”
“Me?”
“You. They aren’t trying to take you anymore, it seems. Now, they’re trying to kill you.”
9
REMI
It had only been a few days, but it felt like weeks since his Hellhound had been shot. And it had been almost exactly that long since he’d started thinking of the obnoxious Hellhound as his. He’d managed not to slip up when he interacted with Jeremiah, but it wasn’t easy. The longer he was in the castle, watching Remi’s every move, the more… possessive Remi was starting to feel.
It was almost like he could sense where Jeremiah was at any given time, which was definitely not normal. At least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t normal. He sure as hell hadn’t felt like that when he was dating Oz. Hell, thinking back to Oz, it felt like some schoolboy crush when he compared it to the heat Jeremiah caused every time he was anywhere near Remi.
But it was a little more than that too. Jeremiah had healed exactly like he promised, but Remi had been refusing to leave the castle. He’d canceled all of his appointments, and while his parents weren’t exactly putting up a fight about it, he felt like shit. Walkabouts were important, as were his charity meetings and the three visits to schools that had been added to his calendar while he was home.
The problem wasn’t that he was afraid for himself—though he didn’t want to be maimed or killed by whatever fringe terrorist group had decided to target him and his family. It was more the fact that every time someone tried to hurt him, they ended up hurting Jeremiah, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything else happened to his Hellhound.
The only thing he could do in the moment was try to avoid Jeremiah at all costs. He made his way down to the pool in the early afternoon, and he could feel him prowling nearby, but he appreciated the space between them. Jeremiah seemed just as shaken by their odd connection as he was, and Remi was going to use that to his advantage to get some breathing room.
“Missing school terribly, aren’t you?” came a welcome voice to his right.
Remi, who was lounging on his back with his feet in the water, turned his head to see his father walking toward him. Behind the castle walls, James was not a king. He was just a dad in his high-waisted jeans and polo shirt tucked in way too tightly. He was so human—so fragile and powerless—but Remi had never been afraid when his dad was nearby.
He felt that comfort now as James kicked off his shoes, rolled up his cuffs, and took a seat. He hissed when he dipped his toes into the cool water, and Remi wondered what it was like to not feel connected to the water down to his very atoms.
“I like learning,” Remi said, pushing his shades a little higher up on his nose.
James snorted. “You definitely get that from me. Your mom once told me she was allergic to reading.”
Remi rolled his eyes. “Unless they’re Gargoyle romances.”
James let out a hefty laugh, shaking his head. “Never tell her you know that.”
“Uh, yeah,” Remi said. “I value my life.”
James’s smile softened, and he reached over, laying a hand over Remi’s wrist. “Seriously though. Your mother and I are both worried about you. This week hasn’t been easy.”
Remi couldn’t help a bitter chuckle. “The last few weeks have been a goddamn nightmare. Jeremiah’s gotten hurt twice, the twins are off with strangers, and I feel completely helpless to do anything except cower. They shot him, Dad, because of me. Because of who we are.”
“You never cower,” James told him, squeezing his grip a little tighter. “And you didn’t that day. I was there.”
Remi let out a trembling breath. He supposed that was true. He didn’t cower. He just also didn’t do anything, and mostly because he didn’t know how. His Siren powers were weak at best, diluted from his human side, and even then, he didn’t know any battle Songs. He hadn’t grown up in a time of conflict, so the most he was ever taught was how his ancestors fought for their lands with Voice, claws, and spears.
And what was he?
A bratty, spoiled princeling, as Jeremiah insisted over and over.
