Chapter Twenty-six

Griffin

I'd done my best to stay awake after arriving home, wanting to wait until Ben called so I could persuade him to come here. Because why sleep the day away on my own when I could do it with him. Somewhere around the thirty-minute mark, though, I'd fallen asleep.

I awoke in a still lit room, surprised to find I'd only slept for an hour when exhaustion should have had me sleeping until midday. Which meant something had woken me. Ben calling, maybe. I reached for my phone and checked the screen. No calls. No messages.

And then it hit.

Fear. Sharp and acrid, and filling my chest with pure panic. Heart hammering, I threw the covers back and lurched to my feet, swaying. What was I afraid of? The answer came to me in slow degrees. It wasn't my fear; it was Ben's. A taste flooded my senses. One that, despite it being familiar, it took me a few seconds to place .

Blood. Ben could taste blood. How or why I didn't know. All I knew was that wherever he was, fear consumed him, and I had to go to him, had to save him from whatever triggered that emotion.

Dressing took less than a minute. Grabbing my car keys just a few seconds. It was only as I stood on the pavement in front of my building, bathed in the rays of the early morning sun that I realized I might feel what Ben was feeling, might taste what he could taste, but that was where our bond ended. It wasn't like a homing device I could use to track him down. Futility swept over me. What was the point in having this bond if I couldn't use it to help him?

A car drew to a screeching halt in front of my building, the man who jumped out of it making no sense. Asher. Why the fuck would Asher be here? I'd never seen him outside of the PPB building, never mind on my doorstep. He looked just as put together as always, the designer suit firmly in place despite the early hour, and not a single platinum blond hair out of place despite his haste as he came my way.

"Whatever you want," I said as he drew close enough to hear, "I'm not up to dealing with it right now."

"I know." The words were almost gentle. Asher was always calm, but he was never gentle. He halted in front of me, those pale blue eyes of his full of something that had I not known better, I would have thought was concern. "The address you need is 8 Macklin Street in Shepherd's Bush."

I stared at him, contemplating whether I was still in bed and this was nothing but a dream. "The address for what?"

"The address where you'll find Ben. You need to go now, though." Asher pressed his car keys into my hand. "Take my car. I've already put the address into the sat nav, and it's faster. "

It would be. It was a Porsche. How a personal assistant could afford a car like that would need consideration later. Not now, though. Only once Ben was safe. If he was safe.

"Take this as well," Asher said, pressing something else into my hand. I didn't bother to look what it was before slipping it into my pocket, already making a beeline for the door of the car that Asher had left open. I paused by the Porsche, Asher still standing where I'd left him. "You're not coming?"

He shook his head. "That's not the way it's supposed to happen." I frowned at the cryptic statement, but didn't question it. Something else to unpack later.

"Go!" Asher urged. "And don't stop to call the police. I'll do that. Don't wait for them when you get there. If you wait for them, it will be too late."

I went, Ben's emotions assailing me as I eased the powerful car into traffic. Anger. Surprise. Hopelessness. Beneath them, fear was an ever present shroud that refused to lift itself from Ben's head. Every emotion made me press down on the accelerator that bit harder. I hoped I picked up a police tail. If I did, I'd keep going and they could accompany me to whatever it was I was about to walk into.

The door was closed at the address where Asher had sent me, but not locked. I didn't bother with stealth, Asher's words ringing in my ears about it being too late. Instead, I charged in, immediately spotting the trail of blood up the stairs and following it. Ben's blood? Someone else's? If so, whose? The trail led straight to a bedroom.

I burst into the room with the same haste as I'd done everything else since arriving at the address, quickly taking in the scene that awaited me. Ben on the bed, still, and covered in blood. A man straddling him, a wickedly sharp knife pressed to Ben's hand at the juncture where palm met fingers, his intention all too clear. Was that the first hand or the second? Why wasn't Ben moving? Was he dead already?

The man straddling Ben lifted his head at my sudden entrance, shock showing on his face at my presence. A familiar face. Flynn—my ex fuck buddy, my friend, and apparently also Satanic Romeo—staring back at me. Everything clicked into place. His interest in the case. His presence in Eclipse that night. His desire to meet Ben. I'd trusted him and he'd taken that trust and shaped it to his own ends.

Anger rose in me, heat engulfing me from the inside. A heat that threatened to blaze out of control. "Get the fuck off him!"

Flynn didn't move, determination glittering in his eyes and looking nothing like the amiable bartender who'd befriended me. He turned back to Ben, and I knew he'd kill him right in front of me, that me being here changed nothing. Then what? Would he kill me, too? I'd thought our connection was genuine. Had that all been an act? So many questions and I didn't have answers for any of them.

I didn't care that I had no weapon. I'd use nails, teeth, whatever it took. Poised to throw myself on him and to hell with the consequences, I remembered the thing Asher had given me—the thing I hadn't even looked at. I pulled it out of my pocket and almost laughed when I saw what it was.

Bulky. Yellow. Like a gun, but not a gun. A taser. A police one, by the looks of it. I aimed it at Flynn's back and pulled the trigger without a moment's thought. The reaction was instantaneous, as however many volts entered Flynn's system. His muscles going into spasm not only dislodged him from Ben but sent him tumbling to the floor to lie prone. Keeping one eye on Flynn to make sure he didn't rally, I went to Ben, relieved to see his chest rising and falling as I clambered on the bed next to him.

He wasn't in a good state, his hair matted with blood from an obvious head wound and his face drawn with pain. Once I'd extracted the makeshift gag, I pulled his head onto my lap and stroked his hair, muttering nonsensical things about being here now and not letting anyone hurt him. At least with him being naked, it was easy to inspect the rest of him, most of him seeming to have escaped unscathed, apart from some abrasions to his back and shoulders. A shout of "police" from below had me pulling the covers over him. Ben might not care about colleagues seeing him naked now, but he would later.

After a shouted response of "in here," I continued with my inspection. There was a cut across Ben's fingers, but all the digits were intact. To celebrate that fact, I interlocked my fingers with his and held on tight. Ben's eyelids flickered, and he opened his eyes. "Hi," I said.

He tried for a smile, but it didn't quite come off. "Head's sore."

"Yeah, I bet." I didn't have time to say more before the room filled with uniformed police, two handcuffing Flynn as he regained muscle control, and heaving him to his feet. Even knowing I'd get flak from Ben later for outing our relationship, I couldn't let go of him. Not when I'd nearly lost him for a second time. I needed to hold him and feel him breathe, to feel his heartbeat beneath my palm.

Only when a paramedic appeared did I loosen my grip. I still held his hand, though, Ben not seeming to want to let go either as the paramedic checked him over.

"Did they get him?" he finally asked .

I smiled at him, love no doubt shining from my eyes like a beacon. "Yeah, they got him."