Hyde, an Urban Fantasy (41 page)

He hated her smile at that moment. As if everything was normal. As if his life hadn’t taken an unexpected detour into nirvana and now back into hell. No, deeper. Into an even deeper hell.

“You gonna have that?” She nodded toward the juice he’d dropped before tossing her on the bed.

“Have it. I need something stronger. Then I’ll be back to lock the cage.” He walked away before she answered and went to find the biggest bottle of whiskey he had. Out of her presence, he started running, running away from the room he never wanted to be inside of again, the woman he wanted to be inside of forever
. Not gonna happen, Mitch. Sorry, asshole, but you just don’t measure up.

What the hell had he been thinking? Picket fence and a happily ever after? No, the bad guy never gets a happily ever after. With stiff hands, he opened a bottle of Jack and took a swig directly from it. Then he grabbed a bottle of Jim Beam for good measure. And, sure, a glass might be necessary at some point.

Unless he put some food in his belly, he’d throw up all of the coping device he planned on pouring down his throat very soon. He went into the kitchen and saw a paper bag on the counter. Jolie’s soup. Sure, that’d work. He could stomach that. Healthy liquid followed by the toxic stuff. It would do. He ripped the bag open, tore the top from the container and downed the chicken broth, coughing on a noodle.

As he dragged his feet back upstairs, he realized Hyde was back, clawing at his belly. Huh. Too bad the pain didn’t even compare to what he felt in his chest.

He heard his phone ring as he walked to the bedroom door and peeked in. Eden wasn’t there. He found the phone after it had stopped ringing. He flipped it open and returned the last call, which was from the same number as the last five he
hadn’t
heard. Didn’t matter, they were all from Carter anyway.

“What’s up, Scout?”

“Do you know where she is? I’ve been calling her cell for days and can’t get hold of her. She isn’t at the apartment, and you never answer your door and—”

“She’s fine.”

On the other end of the line, Carter blew out a breath. “Oh, okay.”

There was a long pause, during which Mitch seriously considered hanging up. One pathetic man was really all he could handle right now. Sadly for Carter, at the moment, Mitch was the most pathetic and, therefore, most in need of some serious attention . . . from the two bottles of liquor in his arms. “That it?”

“No, wait! Is she still mad at me?”

“Not sure.”

“She hasn’t said anything?”

“Not about you.”

“Oh.” Disappointment dragged Carter’s tone into the dust, slowing down a conversation that was already going nowhere.

“That it?”

“No! Do you need me to come over tonight?”

Nice offer, but, in the mood he was in, Mitch was just selfish enough to not want to see any kind of happy, let’s-be-friends-again kind of crap. Okay, he was
way
too selfish to see that. If he saw any man’s arms go around her right now, there was a good chance the guy would leave here bleeding. If at all.

“I got this one,” Mitch said. “She may need you for the next though.”

“Are you sure?”

He felt it the moment he lost control. “No, I’m not sure, you little shit!” His voice echoed through the room. “I am everything
but
sure right now! I don’t know what the hell I am doing all of a sudden and I feel like I’m going insane! Aren’t you glad you fucking asked?”

“I’m coming over.”

Mitch clenched the phone, his volume lowering to a more reasonable level simply because his jaw allowed only a very narrow opening for the words to pass through. “Do not come over here. In fact, be very thankful you aren’t here now. Eden is safe and sound in the cage, but
I
am not. You hearing me?”

“Tell her I really need to talk to her about something. She needs to call me. She needs to know.”

“That you’ve given up snorting your dinner? Good for you. I’ll tell her.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s something else. Please, Mitchell, tell her to call me. I know—” There was desperation in the boy scout’s voice. And, unless he was feeling the same pain Mitch was—which was impossible—something else was going on.

“What do you know, Carter?”

“I need to talk to her first, then you. Please tell her to call me.”

“Fine.” Mitch slammed the phone closed and threw it on the bed.

When he went into Hyde’s room, Eden was already sitting on the mattress inside the cage, hands resting in her lap. His clothes looked ridiculous on her. Even though she’d rolled the waistband of the shorts over multiple times, the elastic would never fit her slender waist. The sleeves on the tank top gaped, giving him a glimpse of her breast, making this even harder.

Her eyes widened and she grimaced at what he was carrying. “Are you gonna drink all that? Like, this week?” Her smile was encouraging, or maybe pitying.

He set the bottles on the table, and went to get the key to the cage and a syringe—protocol for Hyde, not Chastity. Before she saw it, he replaced the syringe into the first drawer. Forcing his feet to move toward her was difficult. When he closed the door, Eden flinched at the metal-on-metal sound. Standing two feet away from her, the position seemed kind of fitting—what with the bars between them.

Eden stood and walked toward him, oddly calm. “Who were you screaming at?”

“Your boy, Carter, called.”

“My boy?” She let whatever she was about to say pass. “What did he want?”

Mitch shrugged. “He asked you to call him. So I assume he wants to talk to you.”

“I’m not sure I’m up for that yet, but whatever.” She placed a hand against one of his, the bar between their palms, taking a deep breath. “Mitch, if you want to— If
she
wants to— Ugh, this is tough to say.” She pressed her lips together briefly, and then her words started tumbling out as though they were escaping the confines of her mouth. “If you want to have sex with her, it’s okay with me, I mean, you don’t have to worry that I will wake up mad at you or anything because it’s not my decision, well it is my decision, I guess, since I’m deciding right now and what I’m deciding is that it would be okay for you to sleep with her whenever she comes out, not just tonight but whenever you want to—”

He pulled his hands away from hers, horrified, and shot back from the bars. “You’re giving me permission to use your body when you aren’t in it?”

She nodded, slightly out of breath from her rant. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He grimaced at the idea. Have sex with someone who wasn’t her?  “Why would I want to do that?”

She flinched. “You don’t have to look at me like that. I was just trying to be nice.”

“
Nice
? Well, it’s insulting. To both of us.” What was she thinking?

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she mumbled, turning away from him and grabbing her power drink off the mattress. She took a long gulp. “Thanks for getting these, they are really good.”

“Are we going to just have shitty, normal conversations from now on? Because that’s not something I’m really interested in doing with you.”

She covered her mouth to keep her drink down. Then she started crying. Sobbing.

Mitch kept his feet planted where they were, even though his quads were twitching to go to her. He ran both hands through his hair and concentrated on the window.
Nice drapes. Blue. Little swirls.
The weeping continued. He tapped his foot on the hardwood.
Block the light. Energy efficient. Of course, the plywood behind them helps with that too. Oh God.
Her breathing was coming in little gasps.
Don’t look. Don’t look at her. Focus on something else.

He scanned the room, making very sure that he never faced her direction.
Let her cry it out. She’ll be fine. Why is she crying? Did I do something wrong? A drink! Get a drink. Big, very big drink and wait for her to stop crying. Damn it!
“Why are you crying?”

Her eyes were red and leaking everywhere, as if she’d been caught in the rain with her face toward the sky and hadn’t been able to look down. She wiped her cheeks with the edge of the tank top, flashing a flat belly and the bottom curve of her breast, reminding him of what they’d done earlier.

“Christ.” He was like a Pavlovian-fucking-dog. He moved behind the chair so she wouldn’t see the twitching of his cock. Having a mood detector that made itself visible in the least opportune times was the worst part of being a man—even when that man’s mind was in the foulest of moods.

“I think I should go,” she whimpered.

“You can’t. Not until your cage is delivered. Then we’ll—”

“You bought me a cage?” For some reason, she looked disappointed.

“Isn’t that what every woman wants? I know most would prefer jewelry, but I thought this was more practical. I suppose I can have some bling installed on it, if you want.”

She shook her head, her tears slowing. But not stopping. What did she want from him? “I’ll pay you back.”

“Consider it a gift.”

After a brief sagging of her shoulders, she stood up straight and put her hands on her hips. “When will it come?”

“Not sure. I had Jolie order it before our little squabble. But it’s being delivered and installed here. I couldn’t tell Jolie about you. She was confused enough that I wanted another one. Unless you absolutely can’t handle it, it should stay here. I think the bars on the windows brought enough attention to you already.” He sneered, knowing she didn’t deserve the sarcasm in his tone, but unable to stop it. “What would your neighbors think?”

“You’re right, my apartment is probably the wrong spot for it. Maybe I can find a warehouse space or . . .”

“Why do you want to leave so badly?” He sat down in the armchair and poured himself a drink. Maybe he should bring his entire liquor cabinet up here. Then he’d never have to move. He could have the booze delivered too. Stay inside locked up for one night, stay shit-faced until the next transformation. Great idea. Just great.

“I think I’ve taken up more than my share of your time.”

Is that what she thought it was—his time? His fucking time? “Let’s get this over with.” He wanted out. He wanted to get away from her before he turned into a weak, sobbing puddle on the floor.

She sank down onto the mattress and looked at her hands. After taking a deep breath, she leaned back and turned to face him, bringing her legs up into a fetal position. “I’m sorry, Mitch.”

His stomach tightened so hard, he had to lean his elbows on his knees. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”
Please close your eyes before I break down. Please God, close them quick.

She rolled over, putting her back to him. Her shoulders shook, but no sound came out. Or maybe his system had started to break down—first his hearing, then sight perhaps, smell next, as each sense was taken away. He hoped it was that.

Eventually her breathing evened out and the fatigue brought on by the last few days got the best of her. Mitch didn’t move closer, didn’t try to look at her face, tried not to stare at her body. Tried to get a grip and be a man. Shit, he was acting like a teenage girl after her first love broke up with her in a text message. Pathetic.

He didn’t know what would happen when he saw Chastity. Sure, he’d desire her—that was kind of a given. Would it be better to flush Eden out of his system? Remove her scent by covering it up with someone else’s? Maybe. But Chastity wasn’t the one to try it with. It would be like wiping the water out of his eyes while he was drowning.

How long had it been? An hour? Two? Still no Chastity. Much less Scotch in the bottle, but no more Chastity.
What the hell?

He spent the rest of the night watching her through the bars, never getting closer. Reveling in the fact that the pain from Hyde was finally overtaking the pain from losing Eden, he almost welcomed the bastard home.

Eden jolted awake and looked for Mitch.

He was still sitting in the chair, dark circles under eyes that looked as if they’d seen hell and didn’t yet know they’d returned.