Sinclair
I've only ever truly cared about two things in my life—my brother and making sure I have enough money so that my stomach will never ache with hunger pains again.
Since I left my family in Chicago, I've never let anyone get too close to me. To be fair, I didn't willingly let her in either—she wiggled into some kind of important place into my life so quietly that I hadn't even realized I'd begun to develop a fondness until it was too late.
It's strange caring for another soul. It's been so long that I've felt anything of such significance that sometimes the ache in my chest still manages to catch me off guard.
One look at her curled into my side has my hands itching to touch her. To smooth my fingers along every curve and dip of her body, to memorize every dimple and mole and imperfection.
When her lips part, her eyelids fluttering gently in her sleep, something breaks inside of me. I reach forward and trace her plump bottom lip with my thumb.
She groans a little, twining her arm around my waist and latching herself tightly against my body. I gently take her wrist and loosen her grip so she doesn't strain the stitches in her arm.
Stitches she acquired trying to protect me. I almost laugh at the irony of it all. Not only has she somehow changed her agenda in regard to my life in the past few months, but she's also as breakable as any other mortal.
I want to kiss and shake her all at once. That blade could have easily been her end if aimed correctly.
She deserves more than this. To be locked up and treated as my prisoner. All the same, unease rears its ugly head inside of me at the thought of having her leave my eyesight.
I've never been particularly good at expressing how I feel in words. Actions have always come much easier to me. And I do intend to show her.
It isn't safe for her here anymore. I know that, and I think she does too.
"This is our last night here," I whisper. "In the morning, I'll take you somewhere new. Somewhere nicer than this." We'll have an actual home together. Somewhere I know I can keep her safe.
A drowsy sigh passes through her lips as I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. Wishing I could wrap myself in it. A strange tightness festers in my chest.
Before, I could count my weaknesses on one hand. Now there's one that outweighs all of them—only one that could ever result in my undoing. And she fits into my arms so perfectly that I hardly pay the fact any mind.
...
"One of you will be with her at all times," I say, my grip tightening around the rough texture of my whiskey glass. "You'll take her wherever she wants to go. Let her roam as she pleases. But don't let her out of your sight."
Oliver sighs. "So what—the same as now?"
Theo makes a sound of disbelief as he settles in the space next to Oliver on the couch. "No," he says, tilting his head with curiosity as he takes in the blank look on my face. "You're giving her free will, aren't you?"
I don't respond.
"Christ," Oliver mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you were smarter than this. You going to make us go after her again when she runs?"
"She won't," I say, raising the rim to my lips and taking a sip of the smoky liquor. This I know for sure. "She'll have everything she wants. You'll take her shopping, bring her to dinner. But never let her leave your sight."
"Last time I checked I was being paid to kill, not to babysit your toy."
I almost reach forward to wrap my hand around Oliver's neck but catch myself with the realization that I'll need him in peak health in the case that they send another angel blood soon. "Watch your fucking tone. Last time I checked, I pay you to obey me." He has the right mind to stiffen slightly. "So this is my next order—disrespect her again and I'll be the one to personally put a bullet in your head."
Oliver's mouth screws shut.
I force the rising bloodlust to calm in my core. "Good," I say, then turn my eyes on Theo. "Do you have anything to add?"
His expression is guarded as he shakes his head.
"We'll be moving her out tonight," I continue, even though I'm itching to get her out of this place as soon as possible. They will be after me again soon. I have no doubt they'll start once they notice a second member of their precious blood missing. This time I refuse to let her get caught in the middle.
"Out?" Theo blinks. "What do you mean by that?"
"To my penthouse." Well, one of them. I have a dozen scattered through the city that I used to stay at whenever the whim hit me. I'll return to my favorite; the one I used to call home before a certain golden eyed girl barreled into my life and I quickly learned that she caused too much trouble to let her leave my sight.
I let loose an agitated sigh as my men exchange a long look. Displeasure radiates out of Oliver's body and Theo's mouth slowly pulls into a wide grin.
"Oh," Theo says, looking at me with an exasperating amount of excitement dancing in his eyes. "So it's like that now."
I tense. "It's nothing of your concern. Your job is to follow my command, not to—"
"Oh, it's totally like that." Theo glances victoriously at the brooding man beside him. "I told you."
Oliver rolls his eyes, somehow managing to look even more vexed.
I can feel the small thread of patience dwindling inside my chest. "Quiet." The dark note in my voice must get through to them because they straighten and the thrilled look on Theodore's face drops away. "From now on, I need you alert at all times. No distractions, no breaks. You'll switch days and you'll be at her side as she sees fit." I wait until they nod before continuing. "The angel bloods will be back again. I'll be fine on my own but in any sort of emergency, I need you to call this number." I take out the two slips of paper from my pocket and hand it to them.
I don't want to think of them needing to use it, but I know there must be a massive bounty on my head if the angel bloods are willing to lose several of their brethren in order to take me out. At this point, I need to take every precaution necessary.
Oliver's brows furrow. "What is this?"
I hesitate for a moment, then say, "My last living family member."
It's been years since I last saw Sam. I know he holds no ill-will since the incident happened, but seeing him causes memories to arise all the same. Memories of a life I refuse to call mine anymore.
Sam is as stubborn as they come, but I know he'd help me in any way that I need. Whether that be going after the one trying to take me out or protecting the only other person besides him that I've ever come to care for.
Both of them sit in stunned silence before shoving the paper in their pockets.
"Now, both of you—" I'm cut short as a choked scream erupts from the upstairs. I don't think as the glass slips from my fingers and I bound up the stairs. I vaguely register the sound of my men falling into step behind me.
The panic that strangles my lungs lightens at the sight of her alone, still passed out on my bed. The blankets tangle around her legs, making her look even more shockingly pale against the dark linens. Her breath comes in short and shaky pants, a frightened moan escaping her lips.
I kneel on the floor beside her, brushing a hand over her clammy forehead. Her eyelids flicker with unseen images that cause her eyebrows to knit and her body to tremble.
"Angel," I murmur, cursing when I notice that her hands are balled so tightly at her sides that droplets of crimson trickle down her palms. "Calli."
She doesn't stir.
I take her shoulder in my hands and shake her hard enough that her head lifts from the pillow. "Calliope."
Her eyelids finally shutter open. For a moment, she struggles against me, terror brazen in her eyes, but then she seems to regather her surroundings and limply fall back into the mattress.
I swallow a sigh of relief. "Are you okay?"
She doesn't say anything as her attention catches on the bloody state of her hands.
I brush the damp hair from her forehead. "Angel?"
Her expression hardens into something unreadable as she finally looks at me. "I'm fine."
At her cold tone, I let loose a weary sigh. "Stay here, let me go get—"
Calli quickly sits up and shakes off my touch. "I told you I'm fine." She seems to finally notice the other two men staring at her with concern across the room and frowns. "What is this, a circus? I'm good. Bueno. Peachy. You guys can get going now, it was just a bad dream." She heads for the bathroom, little droplets of red falling from her fingers and soaking into the carpet in her wake.
She slams the door, but I can still hear her dazed mutters behind the wood before she turns on the sink tap.
"Just a dream," she repeats, almost like she's trying to convince herself more than anything. "It was just a bad dream."