Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

FERN

True to his word, Relic didn’t leave my side all day. He stood behind the counter, arms crossed, eyeing everyone who came in and—I assumed—assessing them and the level of threat they possessed. I tried to convince him—order him—to move to the back room, but the stubborn hound refused. I had literally no power over the asshole, and he was loving it.

I’d totally screwed myself, but this was still better than the alternative, thanks to Relic’s humongous and threatening presence. There was no sign of Grady or the other demons—I checked for them throughout the day, scanning the street outside the store, as well as the security footage of the previous night, and nothing. As fucked as my situation with Relic was, it was working.

Still, I was on edge, and it didn’t help that my giant stalker decided to pepper me with questions. He wanted to know every single thing there was to know about me. I didn’t give him any answers because I didn’t need to give this male any more ammunition. I already felt exposed in a way I fucking hated.

But despite all of that, and though it made no sense, I also felt incredibly safe.

I didn’t know if I should trust it—that feeling. I probably shouldn’t, but he’d had ample opportunity to hurt me if he wanted to. Yes, he was a behemoth pain in the ass, but I could get used to this feeling. I’d spent so much of my life afraid it felt nice to know that someone had my back, even if he was unpredictable and there because I’d forced him to be. Even if he hated me for what I’d done, he was here, and unless I ended the deal—which I had no idea how to do even if I wanted to—he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, surprising me while I locked up.

“Dinner?”

“You gotta eat, Tink. Unless you’re thirsty. You want some blood?”

My gaze slid to the thick veins in his forearm, then up to the one pulsing at the side of his throat, and without my say-so, my hearing intensified, tuning in to the swoosh of his blood as it pumped through that massive body. My mouth went dry.

“I’m not thirsty,” I lied.

He tilted his head to the side. “No?”

“Nope.”

“So, how often do soul collectors need to feed, Fern?”

The way he’d said my name made my belly all swirly.

“We’re all different.” I had no freaking idea, but no way was I telling him that.

“Okay, then, how often do you feed?”

I shrugged. “Not often.” Not ever.

He nodded, and his eyes narrowed a little. “But you still gotta eat food, right? So, what do you want?”

“I’m not picky. What do you want to eat?”

He licked his bottom lip before his teeth sank into it, flashing one of those sharp canines. Then his thick throat worked as he swallowed. “What I want is currently off the menu, Tinker Bell. So, for now, I’ll have to make do with a nice, juicy steak.”

I pretended like I hadn’t caught his meaning or the way those words had alarmingly affected me—and not in a bad way—as I rounded the counter. Grabbing the stack of takeout menus, I dumped them on top. “Take your pick.”

“Nah, we’re going out,” he said, not even sparing them a glance. “My treat.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

Why would he want to do that? And what if Grady was out there?

“I’m hungry, female. I want meat; don’t read more into it. There is no ulterior motive other than feeding me.”

If I insisted we stay here, he’d want to know why. And I was safe, right? With him, I was completely safe.

“Okay, fine.” I snatched up my keys and slid my new phone into my back pocket. It’d arrived earlier that morning, and Relic had watched, brow raised as I’d opened it, but at least he hadn’t peppered me with questions about that as well.

As soon as we hit the street, the big hound reached out and took my hand.

“What are you doing?” I tried to pull free.

“You’re my responsibility,” he said without looking my way.

“I’m not your responsibility. I’m the owner of your soul.”

I tried to pull my hand free again, but he wouldn’t let go.

“We’ve talked a lot about what you get out of this bargain, but my soul wasn’t free, Tink. In exchange, I get to be by your side, and I’m in the mood to hold your hand while I protect you. So, win-win. We both get what we want.”

“I don’t want to hold your hand,” I bit out.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, then stopped beside a very large motorcycle.

He pulled me close to it, so I was all but pressed against him when he swung his leg over the seat. When he started it, the growl of the engine made me jump and echoed off the buildings on either side of the street.

“Get on,” he said.

“No fucking way.”

He grinned. “You drugged a hellhound and stole his soul, but you’re too scared to get on the back of a bike? Never thought you’d be a chickenshit.”

“I’m not a chickenshit.” But I was. I was the biggest chickenshit in existence, and the idea of getting on there, of being so … so close to him—gods, not only panicked me, but it also made me feel all out of breath and weird.

“It’s just a short ride, Fern. Just a few blocks, and then we’ll be eating a nice, juicy steak.”

The way he’d said it, like he was talking an unstable person down from a ledge, had me bristling. “Your arrogance is insufferable.”

He grinned wider, as if I’d just told him he had pretty eyes—which he absolutely did, and the fact that I recognized that pissed me off more.

“You getting on or what?”

Cursing, I jumped up behind him, not letting myself think too much about it or the way my hands trembled when I searched for something to hang on to. Relic reached back, taking my wrist with one hand while the other went to my lower back, and he jerked me forward so I was plastered to his back, my groin snug against his ass, my legs spread wide . Then he pulled both of my arms around his waist. Hell no, this was way too fucking close. I was about to scoot back, but he took off, and I was forced to hold on tighter instead.

Adrenaline spiked through my veins as we roared down the street. He wasn’t going fast; he was taking it easy—for me, I was sure—but my heart was still pounding in my chest.

True to his word, the restaurant was only a few blocks out of Seventh but still close. He parked, and I quickly jumped off and forced myself to breathe normally, to appear utterly unaffected. Relic took his time, swinging one long, muscled leg over the seat, the leather of his vest creaking. Before I could step back, he grabbed my hand again and led me into the steak house.

He towed me along to a booth, motioned for me to slide in, and then followed, trapping me in.

“There’s a seat on the other side.”

“Wouldn’t be doing my job if I sat over there. Plus, this side has a better view of the rest of the room and the door.”

The male had an answer for everything. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He handed me a menu from the middle of the table.

“Aren’t you going to pick something?” I asked when he didn’t even glance at it.

“Already know what I’m getting.”

Of course he did. He probably came here all the time. He probably brought his dates here. Did hounds date? Why was I even thinking about that? Why did I care? I didn’t. I opened the menu and scanned what was on offer while he scanned the room like he had laser beams coming out of his eyes and was ready to slice someone in half if they dared look at me wrong.

A server came to our table and smiled at me. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Don’t look at her,” Relic said before I could open my mouth. “Look at me.”

The guy went pale. “Uh … sorry. What can I get you?”

“Beers.”

The guy dipped his head and rushed off.

“That was so freaking rude.”

Relic tracked the guy all the way back to the bar. “He looked at your tits.”

I froze. “No, he didn’t.”

“Yeah, Tink, he did. When we walked in and while you were looking at the menu.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Now, let me do the protecting.”

The guy delivered our drinks, and this time, he kept his head down. We ordered, and as soon as we were on our own, Relic turned and faced me.

“So, what’s going on?” he asked.

I blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Fern, you literally drugged me and bartered me out of my soul. You’re fucking terrified of something even more than you are of me. So, what gives? Who’s the big bad? Who am I fighting? Point me at them, and I’ll take them out. Deal done.”

“I’d rather not say,” I said. “And if the big bad comes, you won’t miss them. You’ll deal with them then.”

“Fern—”

“I’m not talking about it.”

No, I couldn’t talk about any of it. I couldn’t take the looks of disgust or pity that were sure to follow. Or worse, if I talked about it, the nightmares would definitely come, the memories would invade more than they already had been, and I’d spiral out of control all over again.

My fingers tapped against my thigh before I knew I was doing it. One, two, three, four. Four, three, two, one. Always fours. Everything in fours.

Our dinner arrived, and thankfully, Relic let his line of questioning go.

We didn’t talk much while we ate, and after he paid for the meal, he took my hand again, led me back to his bike, and took me home. If I hadn’t tricked him out of his soul and if he wasn’t being forced to protect me, it’d almost be like we’d been the ones on a date. I’d never been on a date. I’d never had a boyfriend.

But it hadn’t been a date, and he wasn’t my boyfriend. I didn’t want or need either of those things.

We walked into my place, and I left him in the living room to take a quick shower and dress for bed.

I went through my bedtime routine and my current list of things I had to do before I could sleep. Moisturizing first, brushing my hair second, then I sat on the edge of the bed and had a sip of water before placing my drink bottle on the coaster on the bedside table, tapping the bottom of the cup against it just right. Front, back, left, right. Twist left, twist right. Then I slipped off my slides, making sure they were lined up perfectly. Not quite right. I adjusted them. No, still not right. Fuck. I did it again, using my thumb to make sure they were lined up perfectly. Good . Then I climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. Some rituals came and went, but this particular line-up had lasted years.

I could hear Relic moving around in the living room, and then he knocked on my door and walked in.

“You can sleep on the couch.”

He chuckled. “Not sleeping on that fucking small couch, and that’s too far away from you.”

He tugged off his shirt, kicked off his boots, and then undid his jeans.

“Whoa.”

He shoved them down so he was standing in only a pair of black boxer briefs, which hugged his monster thighs, muscled ass, and the intimidating bulge at the front.

“You can’t sleep with me.”

He ignored me, rounded the bed, and got in. “Not trying to fuck you, Fern. I was awake all night last night. Yes, I am fucking superior in all ways, but I still need sleep, and I won’t get it on your couch.”

“You’re too big. You’re taking up all the room.” I jerked away. “Did you just touch me?”

“Hard not to in this tiny fucking bed. But again, not trying to get all up on you. I just want some sleep.” His golden eyes came to me. “Wouldn’t say no to a hug though.”

“Are you insane?”

“Nope, hounds need contact; we’re tactile. At the clubhouse, I get those needs fulfilled. It’s not me being a creep; it’s a biological need. If I don’t get to be close to someone, I get antsy, then snarly, and then I want to bite something.”

“You can’t be freaking serious right now.” I huffed out a breath. “You’re harder work than an actual dog.”

He shrugged. “Even dogs need to be petted, Fern. Just one hand—”

“I’m not touching your dick,” I shrieked.

His brows lowered. “Did I ask you to touch my dick? Get your head out of the gutter, Tink. I know what I got packing is hard to ignore, but you’re gonna have to try.”

I shoved at his chest, and he grabbed my hand and held it there, right over his Devil Dogs MC tattoo, and his lids slid shut for a moment. I tried to pull away, and his eyes opened.

“That’s all I need. Just that—your hand on my chest—and I’m good. You’re forcing me to be here, Fern, so you gotta help me out.”

What had I gotten myself into?

“Fine, but my knife is right beside the bed. You try anything during the night, I’ll stab you—repeatedly.”

His eyes closed. “Sounds good.” His voice was husky, like he was blissed out and on the verge of sleep already.

I rolled away to turn off the lamp, and he growled.

“I’m just turning off the light,” I bit out.

It went out before I could even flick the switch.

“Did you do that?”

“Yes.”

“You have powers?”

“Yes.”

“What else can you do?”

“Burn shit, pick up shit and throw it around, you know, manipulate things, move stuff, bend it.” He shrugged. “Lots of things. Not just the hound stuff.”

“What’s the hound stuff?”

“Best trackers in existence, obviously. See in the dark, hear really fucking well, fight really fucking well, heal really fucking fast, and we got poison-tipped claws.”

I stared at him, kind of shocked. I knew some of the hound stuff, but I had no idea about the other powers.

“Hand, Fern,” he muttered.

I quickly pressed my hand onto his enormous chest again. It was hot—hotter than your average being—and hard. The hair there was actually soft. I’d expected it to be coarse, but it felt kind of nice.

No one had ever slept in this bed with me before, and as his warmth radiated over me, I could admit, just to myself, that I kind of liked it. I felt the cold; my feet were always like ice. It was nice to feel warm.

As soon as he was asleep, I’d take my hand away.

My eyes drifted closed.