Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Kyle

Lucas had wished Imogen sweet dreams, but that's not what happened. I'd laid down on the hard, lumpy mattress that came with the apartment and closed my eyes, ready to drop off to sleep. In our line of work, you learned to rest when you could. The bear had one ear open though, dragging me out of a dream where I was the one that gave our girl a goodnight kiss and a whole lot more, in time to hear this.

Women and children, they could make such small sounds of pain, and I was trained to listen for each one. When they had come from an environment where every unauthorised noise was a punishable offence, they learned to keep it to themselves. Imogen made one of those little whimpers right now. Even in her sleep, she was stifling her cries, sure no one would come.

But that's why I was here.

I was out of the bed and walking out into the living room at the first sound, my human eyes still trying to focus as the bear moved my feet forwards. My hand came to rest on her door when I realised where I was. Another sound, then another, little breathy sounds of pain had my claws snicking out. No one was in the apartment but us. I knew that because no alerts were going off on my phone, so I leaned forward, pressing my ear to the door.

"No…" Her voice tore my heart out in one brutal sweep. "No…!"

The bear took control, using my sleepy state to push me aside and wrap our hand around the doorknob. We twisted it and then opened it slowly, peering in. Imogen was buried under the blankets, thrashing from side to side as we slipped in. Her hands clawed at the sheets, her head pushed hard against the pillow as her brows drew down.

"No… Mike!"

If I knew a reputable witch, I'd have paid good money to erase that prick from her mind, leaving her with a blank slate where their relationship was. He was a boil filling slowly with more and more poison, something he seemed exempt from. I was willing to bet that he wasn't losing any sleep over the loss of Imogen. Asher had driven past his place during the day and saw a bunch of people, men and women, going in and out of their old house. That's what had me drawing closer, her body stopping still when my shadow fell over her. That seemed enough, her breathing evening out, but that wasn't enough for us. We had to sit down on the side of the bed to make sure.

The sound of her longer, slower exhales soothed me and the bear, so why did my hand slide closer? Why did we shift slowly but surely onto the mattress? I heard her small snort, as if sensing that change, but not for long. She snuggled back down into her pillow, making a cute little sound of sleepy satisfaction as she drifted back to sleep.

I'd done my job. Imogen was sleeping calmly again, so I could leave her to it. That would be the right thing to do. I fought a silent war with the bear, making clear that taking fur and snuggling up to her would one, damage her bed, and two, scare the freaking hell out of her, ensuring our mate never slept well again. Only that kept us in skin, stopping us from getting up and off the bed. Because then she rolled over, her hand reaching blindly, and before I could yank it away, she wrapped her fingers around mine, and dragged them closer so they were tucked up under her neck. I had to go with them or dislocate my arm trying to stay where I was.

I was lying down on the bed beside my mate. I was studying her sleeping face, tracing the shape of it, the soft brush of her eyelashes on her cheek, the full pout of her lips. I was hard and soft in a confusing combination of longing and love. I didn't know her, even though my soul assured me I did. I was still discovering exactly who Imogen was, but my heart didn't know that. It just started to beat way too fast as she snuggled into me.

It was that unruly organ that had my hand raising, the palm coming to rest on her back as I tucked her oh-so-gently against me. If there was a way to stop the sun rising, to keep Imogen asleep in just this position, I'd have done it right now. Anything to make this moment last, because there was nothing I like better than a good cuddle. Feeling someone close, holding them, comforting them as much as they did you, it was a strange kind of magic. I breathed the smell of her shampoo deep into my nose, felt the soft rise and fall of her body. It was like an apple scented wave that rocked me back and forth, filling me with a feeling of the sweetest contentment that lasted into sleep, until I was woken by a completely different sound.

"Oh."

My eyes opened at her little exclamation, the bear obviously thinking he didn't need to let me know that my girl was awake. Sun streamed through the windows, turning her hair to a dark golden halo as she gazed down at me. Her eyes were wide and uncomprehending, because of course they were. She'd gone to bed alone and now here I was…

"I heard you crying." That was the wrong thing to say. Imogen jerked back as if stung. "You were having a nightmare. I didn't know if you were OK and…" I hated the way her throat worked and she shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "I came in to make sure there were no issues and…" She didn't want to hear this, that some part of her relaxed when me and my sleuth were around. It was too soon, but what else could I say to justify falling asleep beside her? "You reached out for my hand and?—"

"Oh god…"

"And you pulled me down beside you. From what I can tell, you slept like a baby after that."

"Like a baby." Her tone was vicious. "Like a little kid that needs her stuffed bear to sleep." Well, not a completely stuffed one. "God, I am so sorry?—"

I yanked her down beside me, something that was probably really dumb, but I just couldn't seem to stop myself. The man not the bear, me, Kyle, needed to stop the steady stream of self-recrimination. I needed to feel the tension easing from her body. That small moment of surrender, when she seemed to realise that I did not give two shits if she reached for me. No, that I wanted it with every breath in my body. I wanted her to feel safe, secure, perfect right now, and for just a moment that's what happened. Her breath fanned against my chest and I counted each breath, right up until there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Who the hell?—?"

"Let me find out," I said, jumping off the bed and striding through the living area only to press my eye to the peephole we'd installed in door. Fucking Lucas stood there holding a tray of coffees and a bag of pastries. I unlocked the door after disarming the alarm, jerking it open to stare at him.

"Hey…" His eyes ran up and down me, taking in my bare chest but noting that I was still in my jeans. "Is Imogen up? I brought breakfast."

"Breakfast?" She emerged with a smile, wrapped up tight in a dressing gown rather than me, something that had me glaring at Lucas. He just strolled in like he owned the place. "Oh my god, you got coffee? I have a kettle now."

"Yeah, but this is from a fancy cafe down by the beach…"

Their chatter faded as I returned to the room I'd slept in, pulling on my shirt and shoes. I emerged to see a cosy scene, the two of them sitting around her dining table, talking as they sipped their coffees.

Was this what it would be like? I couldn't help but wonder. When she'd healed from whatever Mike did to her and was ready to accept us into her heart. Would she pull us closer and not feel a scrap of guilt, accepting our affection as her due? Would she talk shit with us in the morning, making shy Lucas smile, maybe even cracking Asher's stern visage, then snuggle into me like I wished she would right now? Would we be able to meet the horrors of our job head on, her love like a light in all that darkness? Part of me couldn't wait to find out, even when I knew I must.

"One of those for me?" I asked, sitting down opposite Imogen.

She smiled and pushed a cup my way and it warmed me through far more effectively than hot coffee did.

"I've got to get ready for work," she said finally, getting to her feet.

"So when do you finish?" Lucas and I looked at each other, snorting when we asked that at the exact same time.

"Five, but you don't need to escort me home." There was something lighter in Imogen, something brighter as she surveyed her apartment. "Mike was pissed, but he's not the type to make a big deal of things. He had his hissy fit. He'll be moving on with someone else before the weekends." She shrugged. "And there'll be plenty of girls lining up to take my place. And I'm going to let them. Thanks…" Her look was curiously shy as she stared at me. "For everything, but I should be fine."

"We'll be there to make sure of it," I said. "Five P.M. We'll be waiting out the front."

Imogen didn't argue, just smiling and shaking her head before going to get ready as we walked out the front door.

"So… what happened last night?" Lucas asked oh-so-casually, as we walked down the steps.

"How about you first, mate?" I shot him a dark look. "You weren't exactly upfront about what happened the other night. That kiss…?"

"Fine, we'll compare notes," he replied, "then I'm going to see if I can hack the supermarket HR records. We need to know what shifts Imogen is scheduled for because I have a feeling that Mike isn't going to be as accepting as she thinks."

"Right there with you, brother."

We got into the car and drove away, but I took one long look up, finding her apartment window with ease. I couldn't see anything but reflected sky on the glass, but I could imagine. A future where we didn't have to leave, where we didn't have to hack a computer to find out where she was. Where Imogen shared everything with us gladly. I understood her look of hope then, because I felt the same way.

Of course, that ignored one thing.

That men like Mike, Phil Jackson, they couldn't allow the women in their lives to feel that kind of happiness. It was a threat to their own, and so they had to extinguish it with everything they had. That's what I should've been focussed on, not my pie-in-the-sky dreams.