Page 30 of Unleashing Mayhem
The suited driver took them to a hotel, and after a short registration process—wherein Matteo acted as if every question the concierge asked had to be answered under penalty of gruesome death—they ended up in a luxe room with two beds, neither quite as large as Matteo’s at home.
Matteo still whistled in approval as they entered. He seemed impressed enough with the costly fabrics and spacious bedroom. Even more so with the large bathroom and its demon-sized shower and standing bathtub.
Nightmare cared little for the room, but he was pleased to finally shed his human form again. He stretched his neck in relief, relishing the solid weight of his antlers.
“Ivan really set us up,” Matteo finally said, carefully placing his backpack on one of the beds and taking a seat next to it.
He’d dropped Nightmare’s hand when they’d entered the room, and he hadn’t picked it back up again. The distance was…displeasing.
“He’s fond of you, this Ivan?”
Matteo shook his head. “Ivan’s only fond of Nix and Sascha. Everyone else he tolerates. But we’ve got certain similarities in our upbringing. I guess he sort of…gets it.”
“Raised by cruel men,” Nightmare surmised.
“Yeah. But Ivan took that past and became a scary badass mob boss that nobody dares to fuck with, and I became”—Matteo waved a hand, gesturing in a way that encompassed all of him—“this.”
Nightmare stepped up to the bed, tugging Matteo’s hood down slowly, his shadows dancing over Matteo’s short, mussed hair. “And what’s wrong withthis?”
“Are you serious? I’m weak.” Matteo frowned down sullenly at his hands. “A coward.”
“You fear someone who would do you great harm. I see only logic in that.”
“You don’t know much about toxic masculinity, huh?”
Nightmare tried to parse through that riddle. “Fearing for your life makes you less masculine?”
Matteo sighed. “When someone threatened Ivan and his family, he gathered a group of demons and vampires and loyal men and executed all the traitors in his midst. He didn’t get himself adopted like a kitten and use it as an excuse to hide out for the rest of his life.”
“Do you not wish to do the same?” Nightmare asked. “To execute your pursuers? Is that not why you called me?”
Matteo didn’t seem to find Nightmare’s words comforting. His frown deepened, the space between his brows furrowing. That strange resentment festered in his soul piece again. “No. I don’t know.” He bit at his lower lip. “I want them gone.”
“That’s what we work toward.” Nightmare traced a finger down Matteo’s cheek. “You need not be the cruel executioner, Matteo. You have me.”
Matteo batted Nightmare’s hand away, glaring up at him. “You’re just saying all that so you can leave!”
Ah. Yes. Humans were indeed strange and confusing.
Hadn’t Nightmare told Matteo he was staying? Told him he intended to keep Matteo for his own?
Why was Nightmare’s word not enough?
Nightmare’s shadows whirled around his chest, pinching and poking at him.The truth,they seemed to say.The whole of it.
Nightmare glared down at them. Matteo wasn’t ready. But Nightmare couldn’t allow him to stay in this stew of agitation either.
And what did it matter if Matteo was ready? Nightmare wasn’t letting him get away, no matter the outcome.
Nightmare cocked his head, staring down at his summoner. Matteo was looking down at his feet and nibbling at his lower lip again, as if ashamed of his outburst.
“Take a shower, sweet summoner. Wash off the scent of foreign souls.”
Matteo nodded, the very picture of dejection.
Nightmare placed a finger under Matteo’s chin, lifting his head. “When you’re done, I’ll tell you a story. Would you like that, sweet?”
Matty blinked large, sad eyes at him. “A true one?”
