Page 20 of The Storm Within

Sheriff Harper narrowed his eyes, clearly unappreciative of Killian’s pissy tone, though anyone would sound that way after going through what Killian and his dad had just gone through.

“While I’m aware a lot of insane things happen in our world, you’re trying to tell me Hotel California actually exists?”

Holy shitballs. Killian was about to blow a gasket. “No, because that fictitious hotel never vanished or even existed to begin with.” He breathed out slowly, telling himself to calm down. “This one exists. It’s just not here right now.”

Sheriff Harper went back to scratching his beard. “Because it slowly faded, sucking your brother in before fully disappearing to...”

“If I knew, do you think I would be standing here?” So much for keeping his cool. Killian didn’t understand why the bear shifter was having a hard time believing that mysterious, transient motels were real.

He wished his father had been able to stick around, but Quinton had badly injured himself trying to get Ryker out of the door that had sucked his brother in like he was made of taffy. Right now, Quinton’s massive bear was sprawled out at home, Noah watching over him.

Killian had had to call Kalen Frost and ask him and his sons for help getting Quinton’s 700-pound bear home. His back still hurt from lifting his dad onto the flatbed Kalen had borrowed from the local mechanic’s garage.

Stewart and Ethan were still at Killian’s house—or what used to be his house before he’d moved in with his mate and nephew.

Ethan had squealed in utter delight when the three-year-old spotted the massive bear being offloaded and taken inside. His eyes filled with excitement, he’d followed behind them, chanting “Pay whiff bear! Pay whiff bear!”

“I’m not trying to downplay this, Killian. I’m really not,” Sheriff Harper said. “I’m sorry I sounded doubtful, but I was just trying to wrap my head around a disappearing motel. What I’m trying to figure out is how to find a motel that vanished into thin air.”

It was the same thing the Frost men had said. They’d thoroughly searched the entire area and had made a ton of calls, but no one knew anything about the motel or had any suggestions on how to find it.

Desperate, Killian had tried to reach out to the Ultionem members, but apparently, they had busy lives running their coven, pack, whatever, while dealing with a mile-long list of problems, as well as trying to carve out time for their mates.

Killian was at his wit’s end, unsure how to rescue Ryker and Nate. What if he couldn’t? What if they were gone forever? Hyett was already at home pacing a hole in the carpet, worried sick about Ryker and their brother’s mate, and once their dad woke up, he wouldn’t rest until he’d found the two.

Even the mates were anxious, and Ethan had cried to get Uncuh Dyke back. That was until he’d seen the massive bear he thought was his early Christmas gift.

“Look.” Sheriff Harper let out a slow, quiet breath that felt like defeat. “You know everyone will keep looking and making calls, but until we get a lead, I have no idea what else we can do.”

Neither did Killian, but they were family, and he would never stop looking for them.

Chapter Seven

Moments after collapsing toward the mattress, Nate was on his knees, dragging his fingers over his temples like he had the worst migraine. Concerned, Ryker sat up and took over the massage.

“I guess releasing a hundred-year build-up has its drawbacks,” he teased, moving his fingers in a circular motion.

“I normally don’t have headaches, so I can’t remember if they usually hit this suddenly.” Nate curled his fingers around Ryker’s wrists, holding on as he breathed out slowly.

It had been a while since Ryker had had a headache and couldn’t recall either. It sucked Nate was suffering from one. There were other items in Ryker’s go-bag besides a change of clothes, but aspirin wasn’t something he packed.

“Come here.” He placed his mate on his lap, back to chest, then resumed rubbing Nate’s temples. “It’s probably the dumbest question ever to be asked, but is there anything around this place you can take to help ease the pain?”

Although preternatural were pretty much immune to diseases, headaches, toothaches, and sore bodies weren’t uncommon, and Ryker hated to see his mate hurting.

Nate rested his hands on Ryker’s thighs, playfully squeezing one. “My uncle doesn’t exactly bring supplies with him when he drops in. He only returns with Otis and a sparkling personality.”

Grunting, Ryker was still unable to forget how Diobno had dragged Nate away when they’d been trying to escape, the uncle’s expression a mix of rage and excitement. Ryker wanted to punch his fist right through the guy’s face.

Trapping his nephew in a limbo motel over a joke was beyond messed up. Unable to take some ribbing was a clear sign of how thin the man’s skin was. Ryker had lost count of how many times he’d been the butt of a joke by his siblings, especially Killian.

But their father was known for getting a shot in here and there. It was the love and closeness of his family that eliminated any kind of hurt feelings.

That wasn’t the case with Nate and his uncle.

“Something…” Nate shoved Ryker’s hands away from his head, crawling forward as if trying to outrun the pain. He flopped onto his back and then curled onto his side in a tight ball.

“Nate!” This wasn’t a simple headache. Something else was going on, and whatever it was, it was only getting worse. Nate twisted to his knees, rocking back and forth, his fingers rubbing his temples so hard he should have carved out skin. “Baby, tell me what’s wrong.”

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