7. Chapter 7

Chapter seven

" Y ou look better," Arlo commented when King ducked behind the curtain.

"Thanks…I think."

"Are you going to tell me what happened earlier?"

"Nothing happened."

Nothing he cared to talk about anyway. Arlo might be his closest friend, but even he didn't know about King's dysfunctional family. No one did, and he planned to keep it that way.

For at least the next hour.

Even if Storm hadn't just risked his entire career for him, the shifter was still his mate. He supposed the argument could be made that being bonded by fate was actually a damn good reason to keep him in the dark. It would be kinder, for sure, but it wasn't very practical. Besides, he didn't want to build their future on a foundation of lies and secrets.

Storm deserved better than that, and frankly, so did he.

Maybe.

Probably.

"My family wants to meet Storm," he said, realizing he had to give Arlo something.

"That's great!"

He didn't know what expression he wore, but Arlo's smile slowly faded, his excitement deflated, and he started shaking his head.

"Or not."

"They're just a little judgmental."

Arlo snorted. "He's rich, famous, and not to mention, gorgeous. What fault could they possibly find?"

"How do I count the ways?" he mumbled under his breath.

First, Storm was a shifter. As far as his parents were concerned, that meant an automatic strike against him. Yeah, he had fame and fortune going for him, but being an actor wasn't the same as being a surgeon. Or an attorney. Or anything else that required a billion years of university and just as much money in student debt.

Despite his success in the film industry, Storm still planned to take over his parents' farm one day. He'd even obtained degrees in agriculture and business management in preparation. Any reasonable person would consider it an admirable goal, but King knew his family wouldn't see it that way.

The judgment wouldn't end there, either. Storm wore baseball caps, and he ate fries with his fingers. Unforgiveable offenses in his mother's eyes.

His family would also dissect the way Storm walked and talked. How he sat. His posture. If he was too friendly or not friendly enough. Too forthcoming or too guarded. The car he drove. The type of cell phone he used. If he slept on his back or his side. The heavens forbid he slept on his stomach.

The list of possible sins was endless and ever changing. Meaning, he had zero chance of preparing his mate for the interaction.

"Don't stress about it," Arlo encouraged. "I'm sure they'll love him."

"You're probably right." He didn't actually agree, but he did appreciate the show of support. "Thanks."

"Hey, I need to check on something real quick." Arlo's gaze darted to the service door at the back of the room. "Can you keep an eye on things here?"

"Of course."

The abruptness seemed kind of weird, but he didn't ask questions. Not only because it was none of his business, but also because he got the sense that it didn't relate to work. Arlo looked tense, and King was pretty sure he'd seen someone disappear through the service door only a few seconds previously.

"Thanks." Arlo patted him on the shoulder as he passed, but he didn't look at him. "I'll be right back."

Right back turned out to be forty-five minutes later, right as Storm and Damien were wrapping up the event. Again, it was suspicious, but Arlo didn't comment on what had kept him for so long. In fact, he didn't bring it up at all, almost like his disappearance had never happened.

He did look more relaxed, though, if a little distracted.

"Everything okay?" King didn't want to pry, but if something had happened, he wanted to help.

"All good." Arlo gave him his signature million-watt smile that turned his already good looks into an almost ethereal beauty. "I'm going to see if Damien wants to change before we head to dinner. Do you and Storm have any plans?"

"We're going to order room service."

"Ohh, sexy."

King flipped him off. "Shut up."

Chuckling, the asshole winked over his shoulder before ducking through a part in the curtains.

King rolled his eyes and followed after him.

Most of the crowd had dissipated, the fans leaving to return to their regularly scheduled lives. The few stragglers who remained were being gently shepherded toward the exits by hotel employees. Other staff members had started the clean-up—clearing the buffet tables, picking up trash, and stacking chairs.

Damien and Arlo stood off to one side of the stage, engaging in a lively conversation with a middle-aged man dressed in a dark suit. King couldn't remember his name, but he thought it might be Damien's manager.

He scanned the area, looking for his mate, and found him with Nita by the floor-to-ceiling windows. From that distance, he didn't know what they were talking about, but Storm had his hand on the female's shoulder, and she appeared to be crying.

Jogging down the stage steps, he hurried across the room, winding through the remaining chairs to join them. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Nita assured him.

A muscle in Storm's jaw ticked, and he patted her shoulder. "Some guy claiming to be her boyfriend showed up."

"What?" King didn't know anything about the woman's love life, but it had to be bad for her to look so miserable. "Are you hurt?"

"No. No. I'm fine." She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I'm overreacting."

King looked between Storm and Nita with a wrinkled brow. "Did you two fight?"

"He got in her face and grabbed her arm." The shifter's gaze was as stormy as his name.

He was in full protector mode, with no sign of the shiny veneer he showed the rest of the world. A vein along the side of his neck throbbed, and his handsome face was distorted by hard angles and deep shadows.

His murderous expression probably should have been frightening, but King found it hot as hell. Add the reason for his anger—the defense of a virtual stranger—and he might have fallen just a little in love.

Pushing that aside, he focused his attention on Nita. "Do you need anything? Can I call someone for you?"

"No, no, I'm fine." She took a deep, shaky breath. "Just overwhelmed."

Not knowing how else to comfort her, King pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry that happened to you. Is your shift over?"

"I still have to help clean up."

"Go home." Releasing her, he took a step back but kept hold of her hands. "I'll take care of it."

"I can't ask you to do that."

King smiled. "You didn't. I've been here longer than you, which gives me seniority." His smile widened when she giggled. "I'm telling you to go home and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you, King." Nita hugged him again and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "You're a good guy." Then she turned and hugged Storm as well. "Thank you, too."

"Don't mention it. I'm glad you're okay." He gave her another squeeze before easing her away. "Is it safe for you to go home? Will he show up there?"

"I'm staying with my parents for the time being." She shook her head. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Do you need us to take you home?"

Nita shook her head again. "Thanks, but I'll be okay."

"If you're sure." Storm didn't sound pleased about it, but he seemed to recognize he couldn't force her. "Be safe."

"And text me when you get there," King added.

"I will. Promise."

Once she had slipped through the big double doors, Storm sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I wanted to punch that fucker in the face."

"Probably best that you didn't." No matter how satisfying it would have been, the fallout definitely wasn't worth it. "You know this isn't your fault, right?"

Storm shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Doesn't change anything."

No, he supposed it didn't. He hadn't even witnessed the altercation, and he wanted to punch the guy as well.

"Come on. Let's get this done so we can get out of here. I'm starving."

Damn, he'd completely forgotten about their dinner date. "You go. I've got this." He pulled his phone out and opened his notes app. "Tell me what you want to eat, and I'll order it for you."

"Believe it or not, darlin', I'm perfectly capable of ordering my own food." He wound his arm around King's shoulders and pulled him close. "I'm not leaving you here alone."

"I don't have any admirers lurking around." He spoke quietly, gently, not wanting to dismiss his mate's concerns but still needing to make a point. "No one is going to hurt me."

"I'm not leaving, so just let me help you."

"Actually, can you talk to Skye? She needs to know what happened."

"Security dragged the guy out, so I'm sure she's already been informed."

In that case, how had Storm become involved? "What exactly happened?"

Storm dropped his head and rubbed his cheek against the top of King's head. "I don't know all the details. I was wrapping up on stage when I saw them talking. It looked pretty intense."

King nodded. So far, he was following.

"I was headed over to check on her when he grabbed her arm. Security reached them before I did, and they took him out of the ballroom." Sighing again, he finally released his grip on King and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You showed up a couple of minutes later."

"I wonder what they were arguing about."

Storm quirked an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"

Maybe not, but without all the information, he didn't want to jump to conclusions, either. Naturally, he was worried about his friend, and he didn't like the idea of some asshole putting his hands on her. At the same time, Nita was a she-wolf and more than capable of protecting herself.

It didn't add up.

Nita had a sweet, bubbly personality, but she also didn't take shit from anyone. He'd watched entitled guests literally scream in her face, and she hadn't even blinked. She damn sure never broke down in tears or needed to be rescued.

Maybe it was nothing. After all, the typical rules didn't really apply to matters of the heart. Still, while he made it a rule not to involve himself in other people's business, something didn't feel right.

"So, what happened with your family earlier?"

King instantly stilled as his pulse quickened. It was a timely, albeit harsh, reminder that he had enough problems of his own without adding Nita's to his plate.

"My mom wants us to come to dinner on Friday."

"That's great." As he spoke, Storm grabbed a nearby chair and stacked it onto the one next to it. "Perfect timing, too, since I don't have filming this week."

Yeah. Perfect.

King nodded but remained silent.

"I thought you said there was some drama." There was no accusation in his tone. Only mild curiosity.

"Oh, that." Now that it had passed, it didn't seem like such a big deal anymore. "My siblings think I slipped you a love potion to make you think we're mated."

He didn't know what kind of response he expected, but laughter wasn't it.

"My sisters said the same thing."

Surely, he'd heard that wrong. "Why would they think that?"

"According to them, you are far too cute and sweet to be with an asshole like me."

He didn't sound offended, though. More…indulgent.

"I didn't know you had siblings. How old are they?"

"Seventeen. Twins." Storm chuckled and shook his head. "They're a pain in my ass, but what can you do?"

"Right." Somehow, he doubted their situations were similar at all.

"What about you?"

"Two sisters and a brother. All older." He moved down the row and started stacking chairs at the other end. "We're, uh, not that close."

"You still talk, though?"

"We do." Although, he hadn't decided if that was a good thing.

"Well, that's something. I mean, if they didn't care, they wouldn't bother at all."

King had never thought about it that way. He just assumed they loved bullying and mocking him. What Storm said made sense, though. If his siblings actually hated him, they would just pretend like he didn't exist.

Like their dad did.

Either way, it was probably best to change the subject. "You know, this event wasn't nearly as chaotic as I expected."

Storm laughed. "I have a feeling we can thank Miss Maddock for that. These things—" He waved his hand vaguely toward the stage. "—aren't usually so chill. The public ones are the worst."

"Public?"

"Yeah, we just announce we're going to be somewhere and don't sell tickets. Those are a night—"

A loud, echoing growl had them both jerking toward the exit. A small crowd had gathered in front of the doors, and it took a moment for King to figure out who the sound had come from.

"It's Cyrus." Eyes wide, fangs bared, their head of security looked beyond crazed. "Let's go."

Abandoning their task, they made their way across the ballroom to the hellhound. A few feet away, however, Storm grabbed him by the arm and held him back.

"That's close enough."

"Get away from me!" Cyrus snarled as he shoved at the other security guards. "Get your fucking hands off me! You can't keep me here."

Keep him there?

"No one is trying to stop you from leaving," Brenden, a new guard, told him. He was doing his best to speak calmly, but it couldn't have been easy with almost two hundred pounds of hellhound raging against him. "You have to calm down, though."

"Where am I?" Cyrus demanded. "What is this place?"

In that moment, King finally recognized the look on the guard's face. Sheer and utter terror.

"Where is my mate?" Cyrus threw a punch, but it sailed wide, throwing him off balance. "What did you do to Emrys?"

Thankfully, the pixie arrived then. Well, arrived might have been too tame of a word for it. He was literally dragged into the ballroom by two of the housekeeping staff.

"Emrys!" Struggling against his fellow guards, Cyrus called his mate's name twice more. "Get away from him! Don't touch him!"

It took nearly ten minutes for Emrys to calm his mate and convince him that no was trying to abduct, murder, maim, or otherwise threaten them. Even then, as he allowed himself to be led away, Cyrus looked wild and, honestly, dangerous.

The ballroom fell eerily quiet after that. The remaining employees kept casting glances at each other as if looking for answers, but no one seemed to know what to say.

King, however, was more convinced than ever that something wasn't right at Blackhaven Manor. One employee having an uncharacteristic outburst was one thing. Two in the span of half an hour didn't exactly feel like a coincidence.

He also had a bad feeling that Cyrus wouldn't be the last. But why?

What the heck was going on?