6. Phineas

Chapter 6

She's beautiful, and perfect, and fucking ours.

And those bastards tried to take her.

My jaw aches with the urge to let Beastly return again, not that there's much left to devour of the ones who wanted to steal Mabel and her Hyde away. Between the three of us, we more than dealt with them. And yes, ordinarily we're more circumspect, taking care to avoid leaving any evidence for a crime scene investigator to trace.

But these men dared to touch her.

Zeb rolls his neck in a stretch as he walks back to me, every sign of Ghastly gone now. "Fuckers."

I make a sound of agreement, while nearby, Huck hugs his arms to his middle and peers at the green-skinned beauty before us. "Is she going to be okay?"

Heartrending worry fills his tone, the kind that goes beyond mere concern that she hit her head or that she may have an adverse reaction to the sedative they obviously gave her. It's deep-rooted terror I hear, and to another person, that might make him appear weak.

I know differently. Only someone of incredible strength could have survived what Huck endured, and after all he's seen and lost, he has plenty of terrible memories to give him reasons to be afraid.

To say nothing of how this is her.

I shudder, too enraged to speak.

"We'll take care of her," Zeb assures him. "Promise."

I nod my agreement, but I can barely take my eyes from the Hyde goddess in front of me. Bending down, I scoop her up from the filthy concrete, careful to support her head and neck just in case she suffered a concussion from anything those bastards tried. If the two men with me were anyone else, I'd be concerned about how they might react to my actions. How I'm silently insisting on being the one who gets to hold her, touch her, and how I'm not letting them close.

But Zeb and Huck understand. Beastly's nature means I cannot allow anyone else to put their scent on her first, even if only in this small way.

I breathe her in as I lift her, and my cock aches, already hard and ready, though I refuse to give into that need with her wounded like this. I first detected her scent when we were hunting that trader last night, a strangely sweet-sour bloody flavor that nearly felled me with its power and stunned Beastly like a bolt straight between the eyes. Every molecule of my being had instantly been aware of what she was to me, and the gods themselves couldn't have stopped me from tracking her.

But when we reached an alleyway, both her scent and the trader's wretched stench vanished entirely, owing to what I now know was her Hyde's ability to disappear at will. We later found the abandoned building where she'd likely killed him, but even then, her scent left no path to wherever she'd gone afterward.

Beastly had nearly shredded the city at that, and I'd been left speechless, too aghast to tell my friends what I knew—that I'd found my mate, and hopefully theirs as well, but that I'd lost her before catching sight of her at all.

Until the bar.

In my arms, she curls up like she was created to fit there perfectly, and her round, pale green cheek rests against me in a way that makes a warm, hungry feeling flood my chest. A tinge of vibrant orange lines her eyes, as radiant and beautiful as a tropical flower. The brilliant hue stains the base of her dark lashes where they rest over her closed eyes, like a sunrise fighting back the night. Her body is delicate. Fragile like a doll, but with viciously sharp nails at the end of each fingertip and a predatory ability that's left me hard as hell.

In every way, she's breathtaking. And though her Hyde is still holding prominence, I can see pink streaks spreading through the roots of her black hair, hinting that Mabel is instinctively trying to disguise the truth of her identity.

Even drugged and unconscious, she protects herself, and pride for her surges within me as I hold her close.

"We're taking her with us," I say to Zeb, brooking no argument. She and her Hyde need to be nearby, if not for all of our reasons, then because Beastly is rabid at the thought of not being the one to protect her. But beyond the irrational reasons for bringing her along, plenty of rational ones prevail as well.

The traders might discover wherever it is she lives. A hospital might have spies.

Beastly wants to snarl at either possibility.

Zeb's mouth tightens briefly, his eyes scanning the alley, but he nods. "I'll call security."

There are many reasons I have been friends with this man for the better part of a decade, and his intelligence and practicality are certainly two of them.

While he takes out his cell and begins making calls, I carry her toward the far end of the alley. The bastards hadn't been cautious in their haste to capture her. This alley lies only a short distance from the club, and any number of humans or supernaturals might have spotted them.

But it also leaves us without many options to escape. People loiter all around the club entrance, and security cameras monitor the area as well. Three men carrying away an unconscious woman would automatically cause alarm, and with good reason.

How the hell those traders planned to get her away from here is anyone's guess.

"She'll need water," Huck says, sticking close to my side. "Lots of water. Her mouth will be really dry when she wakes up."

Sympathy rises, but I hide a grimace. He doesn't need to see my pity for how well-acquainted he obviously is with the aftereffects of sedation. "We'll make sure she gets that, friend."

He nods, but he doesn't take his eyes from her.

I glance around carefully when we reach the end of the alleyway. A few people amble across the intersection two dozen yards to my right, but they never glance this way. Otherwise the road is empty, and though the streetlamps create pools of light and deep shadows, Beastly is riding close enough behind my eyes that my vision can compensate easily for the contrast.

Zeb ends his call and pauses at my side, peering up and down the street. "Two minutes."

Irritation makes my teeth clench. "They were that far from here?"

"Party blocking the intersection."

A growl climbs my throat, and it takes effort not to crush the woman in my arms closer to me. It could be a coincidence.

It could also be a trap.

"We need to put more distance between us and this place," Zeb continues as if reading my mind. "The traders could have people coming as well."

I don't bother to voice my agreement, turning instead to the south and striding quickly down the sidewalk, skirting each pool of light from the streetlamps as I go. We're not being nearly as stealthy as I would like, and Beastly hovers close, ready to devour anything that might consider taking advantage of that fact. But Zeb is right. The bastards who hurt her may well have friends on the way.

A screech of tires behind me sends Beastly surging through my muscles and bones, and I barely stop him from taking control. Around the corner, a black SUV makes a tight turn and then heads straight for us, skidding to a halt only a few yards away.

I tense, but traders aren't the ones who shove open the doors and hurry out of the vehicle. Dressed in black with guns at their hips, the security Zeb hired before we came to town rushes toward us, surrounding us immediately.

"Delta team reports a suspicious truck headed this way," the woman in charge announces without preamble.

"Fuck," Zeb mutters.

I don't waste another second. Climbing in with Huck on my heels, I hold Mabel's Hyde close and grit my teeth against the way Beastly wants to shift my bones.

The SUV surges forward, the acceleration pushing me back into the seat. At my side, Huck doesn't take his eyes from the woman in my arms, his hands hovering over her like he wants to touch her but is afraid she'll disappear.

"We'll get her to safety," I tell him.

He nods without ever looking away from her.

The driver curses, his attention on the rearview mirror. I twist to check behind me.

A truck has just rounded the corner. It appears to be a delivery vehicle, though its tall, boxy shape is unmarked by any logos. But around its sides, three motorcycles suddenly race into sight.

They charge straight toward us.

In the row of seats behind me, the team leader mutters something heated under her breath. Pressing her fingers to her earpiece, she says, "Hostiles coming up fast. Bravo Team, you got them?"

With Beastly's help, I pick up the murmur of confirmation from her earpiece, and a moment later, a half dozen motorcycles whip past us on the street, racing straight at the oncoming vehicles. Gunfire breaks out, peppering the walls around us.

"Get down!" the team leader shouts.

I don't need the order, though my size doesn't exactly make it simple. But I tuck down as low as I can, covering the woman in my arms, while Huck does the same.

Our SUV wheels around the corner and speeds off down the next road.

No one follows.

"We're taking green route back," the team leader says behind us. "Everyone copy?"

The pause that follows makes me wince, and when confirmation comes from her earpiece, it isn't the same person as before who speaks.

"Bravo team is down," says the voice. "Delta team copies."

I close my eyes briefly, regret and gratitude tangling in my chest. It doesn't matter that this is what the security team signed up for, nor that Zeb pays them well for the risk they take. I hate that it costs people's lives just to make this world a better place.

The woman relays the information to Zeb and the others in the vehicle, since none of them have the advantage of Beastly's hearing. Silence settles over us, broken only by the sound of the tires on the road.

Minutes tick past. Our destination rolls into view. In my arms, I cradle Mabel's Hyde close, knowing I won't relax fully until she's upstairs and safe, preferably tucked into my bed.

A small gasp escapes her. I straighten, looking down. The green tinge fades from her skin. Her hair shifts fully from black to brilliant pink, the color like joy made manifest, and her nails change until they're painted that same bright shade.

But her eyes start rolling beneath her closed lids. Short, choking sounds leave her throat.

Huck makes a panicked noise. "Oh, no, no, no…"

"What's wrong?" Zeb calls from the front seat.

I have no time to answer as Mabel's body begins to shake uncontrollably in the grip of a seizure.