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Turning, Alister looked him over. “Except for a brief encounter, we don’t know each other. Why would you offer to let me stay with you?”
Alister had to be in shock if he didn’t feel the pull. His mind was too focused on tonight’s event, on his best friend, and more than likely struggling with the fact he and Paris could have died.
Wyatt started to answer, but Cannon knocked and told them his mate was ready to talk. Alister breathed deeply before they went to Paris’s bedroom and listened to the fox shifter tell them how he’d fought off Negan, his only goal to save Alister.
As Paris recounted what had taken place, Wyatt pulled Alister into his side, trying his best to give his mate comfort as his little red panda softly cried.
Listening to how hard the fox shifter had fought already had Wyatt’s teeth grinding. His mind played the scene Paris described, and Wyatt wished to god he could bring Negan back from the dead to kill the human himself.
Every shifter in the room probably wanted the opportunity.
Alister ran from the room when Paris said he was stabbed in the chest. Wyatt went after his mate. Before he entered Alister’s bedroom, he clenched his jaw as he glanced back at Paris, wishing he could erase what happened tonight. He locked eyes with Cannon and then turned and entered Alister’s bedroom.
“Paris has been saving me from myself for forty years,” Alister sobbed when Wyatt closed the bedroom door. “Tonight he nearly died protecting me from that monster. I can’t keep putting Paris through this.” He started hyperventilating as he looked wildly around. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Wyatt. I can’t stay here, and I’m not going with Paris and Cannon.”
Alister was heading straight for an anxiety attack. Wyatt had seen it too many times before in traumatized victims. The look that said there was no escape, that their mind couldn’t take it anymore.
Wyatt wrapped his arms around his mate, holding him closely as Alister took a shuddering breath. His arms slowly curled around Wyatt’s waist, his fingers flexing and relaxing against Wyatt’s lower back.
His entire life Wyatt had looked after his sister. Not because it was his responsibility as her older brother, but because he’d loved Andrea more than life itself.
Even after they’d both matured, Wyatt never stopped looking after her. He’d always felt like he’d been put on the planet to keep her safe and happy. Andrea’s laugh could light up a room, and her smile melted hearts.
Now it was Alister who needed him, and Wyatt wasn’t going to fail this time.
“Do you have anything to pack with?” Wyatt leaned back enough to look at his mate.
“There’s luggage in my closet.” Alister hugged himself as Wyatt retrieved a dazzling red suitcase and brought it to the bed. The two of them spent the next fifteen to twenty minutes packing. Wyatt had to retrieve another piece of luggage when they ran out of room in the first one.
If it was up to Wyatt, he would pack all of Alister’s belongings. His mate wasn’t coming back to this apartment. Negan had destroyed the feeling of safety in the unit, had stripped away any happy memories Alister and Paris shared living there.
Now the apartment only represented pain.
While Cannon was still in Paris’s bedroom, Wyatt and Alister went downstairs. He helped his mate into the car then tossed both pieces of luggage into his trunk.
The agony in Alister’s features lessened as Wyatt drove farther away from the building. It was as if Negan’s black mark lifted since Alister was no longer surrounded by the brutal scene and the cloying smell of blood.
Since Wyatt lived on the edge of town, the drive didn’t take long. He pulled down his street, passing his neighbors’ darkened windows. By the time he parked in his driveway, it was two in the morning.
“Are you sure this won’t be any trouble for you?” Alister asked. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“If I make an offer, I mean it.” Wyatt shut the car off and popped the trunk. “You’re not a burden, sweetheart.”
When he opened his door, Alister followed suit, but Wyatt refused to let his mate carry any luggage inside. As they walked through the house, Wyatt turned on the lights. Then he showed Alister to the guest bedroom.
“It’s not snazzy like yours is, but you’re welcome to add your flare to it.” Wyatt set the luggage by the dresser. When he’d bought the house, he’d almost turned the guest room into a weight room. Now he was glad he hadn’t, though he never imagined he would give the room to his emotionally distraught mate.
“I’m not sure how much you know about me, but for once, I’m glad I’m not blindly trusting a red flag.” Alister stepped into the room and lay his hand on the top of the dresser. “You’re a cop and Cannon’s friend, so I don’t have to worry about my broken asshole detector leading me into another disastrous situation.”
Wyatt smirked. “I’m a huge red flag and an asshole.”
Alister’s brows shot up. “But you’re a deputy. Other than threatening to arrest me the day we met, you’ve been really nice to me.”
“I wasn’t always a deputy.” Wyatt leaned his ass against the door frame and folded his hands in front of himself. “I’m 209 years old, butterfly. That’s plenty of time to fuck things sideways before I got my life together.”
“I’m the opposite.” Alister sat on the bed and ran his hand over the cream comforter. “My entire life my parents sheltered me from the world. Even after I matured, they refused to let me leave. They said they were only trying to protect me, but when they were killed, I was left to fend for myself in a world I knew nothing about.”
“Come with me.” Wyatt held his hand out, and Alister took it. He led his mate to the kitchen. “How were they killed?” He filled a tea kettle and placed it on the stove, lighting the burner beneath it.
