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Another.

Then she was back, and she couldn’t be, not with that anxious look on her face. “I… didn’t do something wrong, did I?”

I faltered at that question, a thousand denials fighting to reach my lips before I could even blink. I clenched my jaw, beating them all away.

“I thought if I did well, I’d uh… I’d get…”

Cuddles.

I knew what she wanted.

Last night had been almost more than she could handle, and she was still reeling from it, trying to find a box that would define me. I don’t think any of that was what mattered to her most, though; she was so touch starved, so broken, that all she wanted was to be held even if it was by me.

But I couldn’t give it to her if I didn’t want my brain to break completely.

“If you’re good, like you were today, I’ll give you as many cuddles as I am capable of giving you.”

“O-okay.” She looked confused, a pout forming on her lip as she glanced between me and the bed like she was confused. “And you can’t… tonight?”

I reached up, about to cup her cheek and tell her of course I would, but caught myself before I lost another minute.

Fuck me.

If my skin touched hers one more time, I’d snap in two.

“Not tonight.”

I had to step past her right then so I wouldn’t see her expression.

I dropped Rogue’s muzzle key off on the kitchen counter and shot him a text, telling him where he could find it. That was strange in itself, because any other day, I’d be happy to make sure it was delivered with a taunt.

I didn’t want to see him, though.

So, I found myself in my office, despite no inclination to get work done. Callum had texted: ‘Spoke to no one, left right after you did.’

I frowned, considering that.

Banner was Bella’s most loyal mutt, and if he’d left after I had, he had been here to check on me.

Bad fucking news.

I shoved it away, but not before I felt my own tremor.

I stared down at my hand as it shook, willing it still.

For a moment, I imagined a smudge of black powder across my fingers, enough to smother all memory and thought. Onyx dust across a pale canvas.

I also imagined going back to Thistle, but slammed that door shut as the thought was accompanied by a great chasm of desperate need that scared the hell out of me.

Instead, I drew up memories of my last hunt.

The Pence lawyers.

And slowly, the screams of monsters drowned out the screams of nightmares.

It took a while, but my hand steadied eventually, and I opened my phone again, reading the rest of the texts. Callum had sent a few more pieces of information from party-goers that needed logging.

So of course, I found myself opening my phone and watching the security feed to Thistle’s bedroom, instead.