Page 243 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 4

Kass jolted awake as a sharp pain ricocheted through his chest and lodged in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He coughed, disturbing the other men in the room, and reached for his water bottle. The pain hit again, blooming bright and sharp under his arm.

Was he having a heart attack?

The third chased along his lower rib and made him want to puke. He inhaled slowly, fully awake now. It wasn’t his pain—it was an echo of a fight. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to take. He lay down, kept quiet, and flinched with each hit. He’d been in enough fights to know what was happening to Bailey.

The tenuous bond between them trembled with pain and fear. As much as he wanted to ignore it, draw back, so he didn’t feel every strike, he couldn’t. He’d thought he’d be the one putting Bailey in danger; he hadn’t imagined Bailey getting into trouble. He reached out along the bond, pushing his energy through.

He didn’t know if he gave too much magic, or if Bailey had been knocked out—taking him out too—but the next thing he knew it was morning and he felt like he’d been run over. Nothing was broken, but it hurt all the same.

He wanted to be pissed off at Bailey for letting this happen, but he couldn’t raise any anger. He should’ve been there to help his mate. His mate, who’d probably stolen from the wrong person and gotten more than he bargained for.

He fisted his hand in the bedsheets, aware he needed to get moving but unable to get up. He was tired and sore and shouldn’t have pushed magic into the bond, because now when he reached for it, it was more than a strand of spider silk.

Through the bond came a sullen ache. At least Bailey was still alive, but that didn’t mean he was out of trouble. What if the next time it happened, Kass was on patrol or engaging the enemy? It was bad enough that every time Bailey was horny, he sprung a hardon and was aware of every stroke Bailey made. Mostly he wanted to join in.

That his life was tied to a thief’s really didn’t sit well. But there was nothing he could do. Not from here anyway.

Fucking Fates and their messed-up games. What was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t call the Coven for help or locate the nearest branch in the middle of a war zone. He hoped he wasn’t the only paranormal there, because he was ass deep in trouble, and he hadn’t even left the base.

* * *

Bailey slunghis bag over his shoulder and winced as it hit his back. He was sure something was cracked, but he would not lie in bed and feel sorry for himself. He showered and examined the damage. The dark purple stains would spread as they turned green and yellow with time. Stubble lined his jaw; he couldn’t be bothered shaving. Besides, it hid some bruises. Gran was in the kitchen, so he skipped breakfast and coffee and made straight for the front door.

“You’re going to school?”

Bailey considered not answering. Did he really need to live here? Until he got a job he did. He could steal for himself, but he didn’t want to do that shit at all. Maybe it was better to move out and steal until he got his act together.

“Yes, what else am I supposed to do?”

“Did the men give you a job to do?”

He stomped to the kitchen and glared at her. She appeared frail in the dull yellow kitchen light, but it was a lie. She’d handed him over without a blink. Why should he care if they hurt her when he vanished? Because then he’d be as bad as them.

“Yeah, I got a list of clubs with richer targets.” He shook his head. “Places where people don’t get messy drunk and forget to check their pockets. Places with security and dress codes. I won’t do it. I don’t want to go to jail for this dumb shit.”

“It’s how we survive.”

“It’s howyousurvive. Not me. I never wanted this. I want to finish school, find a job, and be normal.”

“We aren’t.” She reached for him. “Please. Do as they say.”

He drew away, refusing to be lulled by her fear and delusion.

“They’ll throw us out if we don’t do as they ask.”

“Then it’s not protection, it’s extortion. They are worse than the government. No one knows shifters exist.”

“They do. Powerful people always do. Witches will find us and kill us.”

Bailey rolled his eyes. “And? The men are using us. They are thugs and criminals.” He lifted his shirt to reveal his bruised skin. “They did this.Youlet them do this.” He let his shirt drop. “Tell me again who I should be afraid of?” He shook his head and stepped back.

Gran snarled. “You cannot walk away.”

Bailey took another step back. “I’ll be eighteen in three months.” He went out and slammed the front door.

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