“He lives with me.” Getty wasn’t sure why he wanted to clarify that. Maybe because at the age of twenty-eight, it sounded like a loser move to still be living with a parent.
When Donnchadh spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. “You took off before we had a chance to talk.”
“I didn’t think we had anything to talk about.” Getty hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, but it was the truth.
“Oh, sweetheart, we have plenty to talk about,” Donnchadh said, so close to Getty’s ear that Getty shivered. “After we eat, we need to take a walk.”
He looked to where his father was seated. His back was to Getty, but Bimbo was looking right at him. He wasn’t sure why she was smirking at him.
“I have work I need to get done.” Getty turned back around. “Maybe some other time?”
Donnchadh made a noise in the back of his throat. “At least give me your phone number.”
Getty could do that. He just wasn’t sure what Donnchadh had to talk to him about. They’d had sex. No strings attached. What else was there to say?
Chapter Three
“We need to step up our patrols in the human realm,” Panahasi said to his warriors. “The hellhounds are getting bolder and, in some cases, gathering in large numbers.”
It had been a growing problem for months now, and Panahasi was clueless to why this was happening.
“Like becoming mayor of a small town,” Donnchadh snarled. “There were at least five hellhounds in Fever’s Edge.”
And Donnchadh had nearly lost his life the night the demon warriors had gone there to clean house. What worried Panahasi was that one of the hellhounds had had a chemical weapon in his mouth when he’d bitten Donnchadh, counteracting Phoenyx’s ability to heal.
That meant the hellhounds were a greater threat now. “I want you guys to split into pairs. Patrol Brac Village, Pride Pack Valley, Desire, and anywhere else they’ve been seen.”
“I’d like to patrol Maple Grove,” Donnchadh said.
“I know three showed up there,” Panahasi said. “But that was because they’d followed Maverick Brac. Have any more infiltrated that town?”
“No, but why wait until they have?” Donnchadh asked. “I’ll take Cadeym with me.”
“How do you know I want to go there?” Cadeym asked. “I might want to go to Desire.”
Donnchadh shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll take whoever wants to go with me.”
There was more to Donnchadh’s request than he was letting on. Panahasi would talk to the warrior once they were alone. He didn’t like any unknowns. “You guys can go,” he said. “Donnchadh, a word?”
“I’ll go with him,” Cadeym said. “I’ll wait for him in the hallway.”
When it was just Donnchadh and Panahasi, he asked, “What’s with your interest in Maple Grove?”
“My mate’s there. I just found out last night.”
“Congrats.” Panahasi smiled.
Donnchadh shrugged. He did that a lot when he didn’t want to talk about something. “If I can pin him down. He keeps giving me the cold shoulder.”
Panahasi knew all too well about resistant mates. “Human?”
Donnchadh nodded.
“Give him time,” Panahasi said. “Take Cadeym and go to Maple Grove. But if any of the warriors need your help—”
“I’ll be there.” Donnchadh walked to the door, and Panahasi wondered how resistant the human would be. Of all the warriors, Donnchadh had had the harshest life before Panahasi had pulled him out of Zakerym, one of the nastiest cities in the demon realm, even worse than Remtin.
He liked to play things cool, but under that smooth act was a man who trusted very little and loved even less. He prayed the human was just what Donnchadh needed.
* * * *
For two days Getty stayed in his room typing away on his laptop, getting his work done, almost forgetting Donnchadh existed. He’d tried, at least, and sometimes failed.
He was starting to feel as if he lived in a cave. No sunlight, no one to talk to—because he actively avoided his dad and Bimbo. He’d even turned his phone off.
Getty had disconnected from the world, and now he was feeling antsy. Any other time he would’ve gone for daily walks to clear his head and to remember a world existed outside his own bedroom, but he was so afraid of running into Donnchadh or his dad—who kept giving him funny looks ever since they’d seen each other in the diner.
He felt like he was losing his mind. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about that tall, dark drink of water? Why couldn’t he sleep without Donnchadh invading his dreams? That one-night stand was like an itch Getty couldn’t scratch, and it was frustrating as hell.
After reading the same line of code five times, he knew he needed a break. He was also still pissed that, after coming home from the diner, he’d found forty bucks missing out of his top drawer. He’d confronted his father and Bimbo, but both had denied going into his bedroom.
Something had to give, or he just might go postal.
This time he made sure he locked his bedroom door before he left the house. Even though it was past midnight, he knew there was a possibility that the two were still awake, and he didn’t want the thief to strike again.
Wasn’t it enough that he was paying all the bills, buying groceries, and giving his father money here and there? What more did they expect from him? Bimbo wasn’t even a good houseguest. She didn’t do dishes—because she was afraid of messing up her nails—never vacuumed—because she said dust made her sneeze—and didn’t even do laundry.
What in the hell did his father see in her? The sex couldn’t be that great, and Getty definitely didn’t want to think about his dad having sex.
A walk around the block should help. After all, Maple Grove was a safe little town where crime rarely happened. The walk would also give Getty the opportunity to think about Pete’s advice.
Renting an apartment where he didn’t have to deal with his father or his dad’s girlfriend. Better yet, he could rent them an apartment and get them out of his hair.
Getty wasn’t ungrateful. Of course he appreciated the hard work and sacrifices his father had made raising him. But it had been Getty’s mother who’d done most of the sacrificing while his father made excuses of why he couldn’t work or lost himself in a bottle.
Lost in thought, Getty didn’t realize he’d walked close to the downtown area of Maple Grove. There were still cars on the street, and he heard noises from Tilted, the local tavern. The parking lot there was practically full, which gave Getty a false sense of safety.
As he continued to walk, he noticed a shadowy figure leaning against a tree. Getty kept his eyes straight ahead. The guy was probably some drunk from the tavern, and Getty didn’t want to give the stranger an excuse to strike up a conversation, especially since the guy wasn’t that great looking.
And he still had Donnchadh on the brain. It was aggravating as hell to think about someone so much. Someone he’d slept with one time—albeit an amazing night of sex—and he wished he could purge Donnchadh from his mind.
It had been one sexual encounter. There was no love lost between them. It wasn’t as though someone like Donnchadh would even consider dating someone like him. They had nothing in common.