17. Mylo

Chapter 17

Mylo

D isappointment filled him when that delectable scent of rage started to ease, but Sammy's alpha scent still danced with his.

"Jesus Christ," Samuel breathed. He took a deep breath, still easing out of his sudden flash of anger. "How did you know? Were you listening?"

"She's an odd one." Mylo shook his head and his alpha scent disappeared like it had never existed. "A raven with golden eyes who is just as obsessed with names as the fae…two truths and a lie."

Which was the lie though?

"I wasn't listening to what I assume was a fascinating conversation because I was watching Rune gather vegetables from the greenhouse," Mylo admitted. "Then he started cooking steak, humming the whole time. Kept asking me what she'd like to drink other than angel blood and to be frank…I couldn't think of an alternative. So, Rune opted for water but insisted he had to filter it at least four times or she'd know he didn't care about her."

"He what?" Samuel demanded.

Mylo sighed and wandered over to the door where Rune's dark room pretended to be anything other than what it was – a cage. "He's cooking again."

How long had it been since the third had found enjoyment in any of his human hobbies? At least two years by his count.

Just like last time, his gaze was drawn to the kitten curled up in the bed he shared with Rune so that the other tiger would know it wasn't really a cage if someone was next to him when he woke in the middle of the night – confused by the memories that replayed in his dreams in the guise of nightmares.

It worked to Mylo's benefit as well, though he'd never admit that to anyone. Ever. It was just…sometimes he needed the weight of another person to hold him together when it felt like he was going to come undone, all his seams ripping open until he was nothing but a pile of butchered meat.

At least his feral kitten didn't chop bodies up in tiny little pieces…but she sure made a splash, didn't she?

Making them watch her take their silver blades that weren't actually silver. Forcing them to witness the moment she ripped their wings from their body – their most priceless piece. His kitten stole everything from them.

Including their name.

This little thing in his bed could overpower an angel. She could push off Rune like it was nothing. Exactly how strong was she? Her speed…her speed reminded him of the vampires, the ones who possessed the rank of duchess or higher.

Empress perhaps.

Somehow he was back at the foot of his bed, staring down at the woman who looked like a vampire too – might even be one. How would they know when they couldn't scent her? Vampires possessed fangs and claws as well…

But their eyes didn't glow the same way a shifter's did.

Those golden eyes and black claws were shredding though his sanity, weren't they?

What a monstrous little thing she was.

A small wrinkle formed between her eyebrows and he was smoothing it away before he could stop himself. She let out a little sigh and stretched her arms just like a housecat would before purring so loud she was bound to wake up from the force of it.

"You did a magnificent job on her hair," he murmured, pulling it away from her face completely and gently setting it aside so as not to tickle her skin. "The oils almost hide the fact she possesses no scent."

Only theirs all mixed up with a subtle hint of tropical spice.

"None," Samuel agreed, his deep voice rougher than usual. "Can a scent be stolen?"

"I'll look into it." But he'd never heard a whisper of that before, not even in the hellhole he'd been in for years and years. Still, it would give him something to do. Perhaps distract him from this obsession he had with her.

Every time he tried to dig his claws into her skin, he found himself brushing his thumb over her cheek, her jaw, those devastating freckles that were so stark against her pale skin…like stars against the night sky.

She liked his scars for the same reason.

Mylo suddenly felt like the pristine suit holding him together was choking the fucking life out of him. He turned and yanked off the blazer and vest, tossing them onto the armchair in the corner as he heaved air into his lungs.

Claws tore the shirt from his skin until it was nothing but scraps as he moved toward the closet without even thinking.

Grabbing another pair of sweatpants, Mylo couldn't change fast enough. His chest was too tight—his skin suffocating with so many fucking clothes wrapping him up all snug like the straitjacket he'd been forced to wear on special occasions.

He could finally breathe when all he wore were sweatpants that were identical to the ones he'd given her and nothing else. His rings stayed, but that was it.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Samuel was right there, ready to shove him in a cage if that was what Mylo needed. It was a bit of a relief to see if he was honest with himself.

Ruffling his hair out of the slicked-back style, he eyed the woman in his bed that didn't look the least bit disturbed by all his thrashing about. Her black claws dangled off the edge of the bed with her arms outstretched like that and Mylo found himself back by her side, touching the tip of one claw with the pad of his finger.

They were wicked sharp, but she was always so careful with them…they never left her either. Not like her eyes that could still shift between the deepest blue of her human half to the icy golden fire of her…shifter half.

Mylo was feeling reckless and there was no pristine suit to hold him back anymore – nothing left to pretend he wasn't an abused animal that couldn't trust anyone other than the owner who had rehabilitated him and the one he'd claimed for himself.

Pressing the pad of his thumb to her top lip, he gently lifted it to see the canines were still there on the top and bottom of her mouth. Those never left either, just like his. Mylo hadn't been able to regain the ability to shift those in and out after they'd taken them a few too many times.

He hated her for this.

Wanting to touch someone was such a foreign concept. He still barely tolerated it from Rune and Samuel. The only touch he could stand was that of violence. And yet…

The kitten purred when he released her lip to brush his knuckles over her cheek.

He needed to be closer.

Mylo was on the bed before he'd even had the conscious thought to do something about that need. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer until her back was against his chest, propping his head up on his fist to watch her sleep like his violation of her personal space didn't bother her at all.

"I don't…" Samuel trailed off, keeping his voice low. "I don't know if you should be doing this, Mylo."

"Worried she'll kill me?" Mylo hoped she would. Violence he understood. Not…this. This need to bury his face in her neck, to rub his cheek against hers and mark her with his scent…to feel her silky hair against his bare skin while those awful eyes of hers stared into his soul.

"The opposite," Samuel admitted. "What if she reaches for you?"

Unfortunately, he wanted her to.

As if his thoughts had slipped into her dreams, his kitten rolled over and threw her arm around his neck, pulling herself into him with a soft sigh.

Mylo froze as he processed the sensation of her hand on his bare chest, the back of it, like she didn't want to claw him up even in her sleep. It rested against the scar where they'd cracked open his chest while he was still conscious, and he felt…

Nothing.

Perhaps not nothing , but there was no urge to kill her.

Bloody hell, what was she doing to him?

Carefully, he slid his arm under her head so she'd have a pillow. Then he wrapped his other arm around her body just to hold her as he rubbed his chin against the silky hair on her head. His little kitten took that as an invitation to throw her leg over both of his, snuggling even closer and her purr managed to get even louder – enough to wake the dead.

An ache he'd forgotten even existed eased up just a little though.

Then something even more disturbing happened. A little rumble escaped him, and Mylo realized his tiger was purring.

He stiffened, not sure if he could do this.

The thought of leaving her in here alone sickened him though, and Mylo discovered he was well and truly stuck.

Being forced to confront the truth was extremely unpleasant. He didn't hate when she touched him. Mylo didn't just like it either, he couldn't get enough of it.

The urge to slide his hand around her throat rose once more, but it wasn't to choke the life from her. No, he wanted to hold it tight as he pressed her into the bed and fucked her until her body was covered in his scent.

If he fucked her hard enough, would his scent fade or would it become a part of the blood pulsing in her veins? Then his teeth started to ache as he wondered what her blood would taste like. Would it tell him everything her missing scent couldn't?

"You're okay, Mylo," his alpha's deep voice promised. Familiar strength brushed against the back of his neck and that warm hand eased some of the urges and instincts incessantly pushing and pulling at him. "You're allowed to want this."

Holding her tighter, Mylo ignored the strange ache in his throat as he considered those words.

Want what exactly? A normal life? How laughable. There was no normal for him and he wouldn't want it even if he could have it. But this kitten wasn't normal, was she? No, she was a soulless killer who had the audacity to lie in his arms and purr.

Who had somehow made him purr.

The urge to fuck her didn't ease, but it became background noise when he found himself sliding his fingers through her long hair again. He couldn't scent the mate bond at all, but there was still a pull to her he desperately wanted to deny.

His entire center of gravity had changed without his permission.

Mylo fucking hated it—hated her even as he held her close to make sure she was warm enough – to make sure she wasn't alone and scared as she slept in a strange place reeking of humanity.

"I don't like this," he confessed into her hair, so quietly he wondered if Samuel could even hear him. "It's dangerous…too unpredictable."

Mylo didn't know how to hold himself together when she kept pulling him apart – giving him a different north and fucking up the compass he'd been using for so long…

He'd tethered his life to Rune's and had used him as his anchor ever since Mylo had ripped through one of the Collector's warehouses and found Rune there with a silver collar around his neck and the kind of scar that had told him he'd worn it for most of his life.

Rune was the one who'd managed to bring back enough sanity that Mylo had ended his quest for blood. Rune was the one who'd finally made him give in to the alpha urge they'd forced to take root and bloom.

Taking care of another person had never been a desire of his until he'd found that mistreated and neglected creature in a silver collar much too small for him. Not until now at least.

But this shift within him was happening too fast. It made him feel like he'd never find north again when all the stars in the sky were spinning and spinning until he felt sick .

Mylo needed Rune's dark strength to stay sane. He needed his alpha to remind him there was someone even more stubborn than he was so he wouldn't give in to those urges, whispering he could take them both down and command them to kneel at his feet.

For whatever reason, his feral little mate didn't incite those urges.

No, the only thing she made those whispering voices say was that he should claim her before anyone else could – that she was wearing his scent more than the others and her essence changed it into something impossibly alluring when it mixed with Rune's, Sammy's, and those oils.

The only thing stopping him was the doubt he felt creeping back in at the lack of mate in those scents.

"She's very chaotic and unpredictable." Samuel sighed as his strong fingers eased the tension in Mylo's neck even with the risk he'd get those fingers bitten off. "I'm sure it'll get worse before it gets better. We'll have to be careful."

Would she be able to handle them at their worst?

Mylo tucked her hair back and eyed the delicate tuft of white fur sprouting from her slightly pointed ears. All that messy hair had hidden them before.

His fingers traced the shell of her ear, careful not to touch her fur in case it drew him even further into her wildness – taunting and teasing him to let go and join her in that endless forest of death.

Those ears…

Mylo's lip lifted in a silent snarl when it occurred to him what had been done to her. "She can't shift." This was as far as she could get, it seemed.

How many had he seen in a similar state when their minds finally shattered and their humanity was destroyed?

"She is shifted." Samuel leaned over them to study her delicate ear. "White fur…interesting."

A lot of animals had white fur, including the alpha.

"She isn't fully shifted," Mylo insisted. "She's locked into this form, half-human, half-animal – wild and untamed."

But she could use magic somehow without an enchanted tattoo or any charms. It made him wonder if she was like him…or something else entirely.

"Are you sure?" Samuel pulled back, giving them space.

"I've seen it before."

Mylo couldn't stop himself from tracing her scarred rune peeking out of his sweatshirt as horribly familiar thoughts took hold of his mind.

Someone had done this to her— tortured her the way he'd been tortured.

It would take a long time to cut each of their fingers off in perfect thirds when he finally found them. Then one cut for the hand, two for the arm. The feet were just as complex and he had to cut around the ankle on both sides. How long until they felt the pain she did every single day she couldn't shift, locked in this form?

They should have looked for her sooner.

Or never.

"I'll get Rune," Samuel told him. "We'll let her sleep for now. You should too, if you can."

Listening to his alpha leave the room should have made him uncomfortable. It should have terrified him. At the very least it should have repulsed him to be left here alone with a person he didn't know.

A stranger without a soul.

Don't let her go , those whispers told him – sounding so insanely desperate. Keep her close .

They wouldn't shut up and Mylo wanted to rip them from his skull.

Every time he thought he had a handle on things, they whispered at him to touch her, to comfort her, and maybe even taste her.

Protect what is ours , his tiger whispered, soothing some of Mylo's doubt and suspicion.

If he were being honest…and there was no reason not to be when he was alone for the first time in years…

This monstrous creature curled up against him, with her leg on top of his like he belonged to her – she might just be the only godforsaken person capable of figuring out where all his pieces were supposed to go.

Because Mylo had been put together wrong .

They'd been so careless, so ignorant.

And she was so very good at slicing through an angel's neck. It had been a beautiful, clean line. One slash and the body had taken a full breath to disconnect. That was how fast and precise she'd been.

It might not even hurt when she slid her blade through his body to see where they'd made their senseless mistakes. She'd be fast, merciless. This delicate hand would press against his forehead and offer him the death he so desperately wanted.

She could end him and make him nothing – true nothing. Not even his soul could be stolen then and there'd be nothing left for anyone to take ever again.