Not yours, Malik intoned, darkly pleased.
“There you are, you crazy fuck,” he muttered under his breath, tensing. “Don’t you have some kittens to drown or something?”
No response. Just a lingering touch of cold fingers brushing down his cheek, his neck, then squeezing his shoulder in warning, digging in to grind painfully into muscle and bone before releasing him. Kalen sucked in a breath at the realization that the touch had been absolutely physical. Despite the wards Kalen had placed on the Alpha Pack compound, the Unseelie could actually hurt him from a distance, if he chose. Or harm one of his friends. Goddamn him.
But not Mackenzie. Ever. He’d made sure of that.
Shaken, he took a seat across from Hammer, the team’s quiet giant, and tried to relax. The big, bald man simply uttered a polite, “Hey, whatzup?” and went on shoveling in his dinner like he’d never get another meal.
Kalen’s muscles began to uncoil. Unlike some of the others, Hammer never forced conversation, pointed out Kalen’s failings, taunted him, or poked into his biz, and for those things alone he liked the guy. Since the man didn’t really seem to be waiting for an answer, Kalen didn’t give one. Instead, his gaze fell on the dish of lasagna in the center of the table and he willed down sudden nausea.
He loved lasagna. Usually. But today the lumpy red sauce looked like blood, the wavy noodles and ricotta cheese like brains and gray matter. Just like what his head would’ve resembled if Nick hadn’t moved the muzzle of the gun. Swallowing down bile, he scooped a square onto his plate and grabbed a bread stick from the basket beside the main dish.
The first bite of the gooey ensemble went down with difficulty, but he gagged on the second. Putting his fork down, he pushed his plate away and resigned himself to nibbling on the bread.
“You okay?”
He looked up to see Hammer studying him intensely, chewing his food. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“That fuckin’ creep screwin’ around in your head again?”
“Not at the moment. I’m just wound a little tight.”
“Understandable.” Hammer didn’t look like he much bought the simple explanation, but he nodded anyway. “Don’t hesitate to ask for help, man. Do not try to deal with this on your own. We’re a team. Remember that.”
“And here I was just thinking how you never get into my business,” he tried to joke.
“This doesn’t count. What hurts one of us hurts all of us.”
Like he’d needed the reminder. “I know,” he said, his appetite now completely gone. He tossed the remains of the bread stick onto his plate. “Between the Pack and Malik, I’m not likely to forget, either.”
“Hey, it ain’t just you—we’re all vulnerable to outside threats. That’s why we work, train, and live as a unit. That’s why we’re in a remote building that’s protected like a fuckin’ fortress.”
“And what if all that’s not enough? What then?”
The other man eyed him in silence for a long moment. “It has to be.”
But it wasn’t. “I found out Malik can get to any of us, anytime he wants. Despite the wards I put on this place.” Shame swamped him anew as he made his admission.
“What? How?” A twinge of alarm showed on Hammer’s face before it disappeared.
“He touched me a few minutes ago.” When the other man sat up straight and glanced around sharply, Kalen explained. “No, he’s not here in body. But he projected some type of astral form of himself to me long enough to let me know he could get me whenever he wanted. Or anyone else, too.”
“A warning,” Hammer said in a low, pissed-off tone.
“Yeah.”
“It’s a bluff. Has to be.”
“How so?”
“Think about it. If Malik could actually do significant physical harm to you or anyone here, he would’ve done it already.”
“Maybe,” Kalen conceded. The idea gave him a bit of hope.
“And if he could, wouldn’t he just go straight for Sariel, perhaps snatch you as a bonus? I’m thinking it’s smoke up our asses, man. If the motherfucker was all that strong, he wouldn’t need you, and he sure wouldn’t be so bent on murdering his own son.”
“Makes sense.” God, he hoped Hammer was right.
“Something else just occurred to me.” The big man rested his elbows on the table and eyed Kalen. “Can he hear us talking? Can he hear me, right now?”
“Shit,” he breathed, stunned by the question. Scouring his brain for past contact with the Unseelie, the creature’s taunts, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. He only seems to react to my thoughts or when I speak to him directly, or he’ll project himself into my head and mess with me out of the blue. He likes to prey on my emotions, but I’ve never gleaned any hint of him listening in on my actual conversations with others. If he could do that, I’m sure he’d be driving me crazy with it.”
“You mean, sort of like when you’re in the room with somebody who’s on the phone, you can only hear their end of the conversation?”
“Exactly. For whatever reason, it seems Malik can only tune in to me.”
“Interesting. That’s something helpful, anyway. But while that’s good, you’ll need to work on being careful about your thoughts, or blocking them altogether. Imagine a wall or some crap between your mind and his. Whatever helps.”
“I’ll try.” He didn’t hold out much hope of it working, but it was worth a shot. “Is Nick having any luck tracking down ‘Evan Kerrigan’?” That the Unseelie was walking among the unsuspecting public, posing as a wealthy entrepreneur, was a source of real fear for the team. Involving innocent humans in their battles was always a frightening prospect, to be avoided at all costs.
“Not yet. He and his contacts have to tread carefully so they don’t raise his suspicions.”
“I have a feeling he won’t hide forever,” Kalen speculated grimly. “If we don’t get him under surveillance before he comes out to play, it’s gonna be bad shit.”
Hammer snorted. “A handful of us against an Unseelie king and his army of giant, rabid bats? No fuckin’ problem—we got it handled.”
Those “giant, rabid bats” being the Sluagh—fallen Seelie who’d given themselves to evil and lived to serve Malik. God, they were all going to get massacred. Unless Kalen could pull off a miracle.