Page 132 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
Dev nodded vigorously, his earlier hesitation apparently forgotten. “Rory’s right. We still need to rescue Carrie, and all the others. If we leave now, who knows what will happen to them?”
The handcuff clinked as Dev leaned forward with renewed intensity. “I know I’m scared. But those people—whatever they’re doing—they can’t be allowed to continue.”
I stared at both of them, wondering how I’d managed to find myself surrounded by people who seemed constitutionally incapable of taking the sensible option.
“Right,” Dev said, stretching out. “Before we plan our next move, could I possibly have some food, if you’d be so kind as to feed your prisoner? And maybe a quick shower? I feel absolutely disgusting.”
I stared at the metal cuff securing him to the banister. The reality was starting to sink in—I couldn’t keep him chained there indefinitely. Rory wasn’t going to allow it.
“One of you could stand guard outside the bathroom,” Dev suggested with a wry grin aimed at Rory. “Maybe arm yourself with a kitchen knife in case I turn into a demon again.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said quickly.
“God, everything aches. And it feels like there’s a clump of mud or something stuck to my scalp.” His fingers moved to the fleshy bit at the base of his skull pressing experimentally.
He winced sharply, jerking his hand away.
“What is it?” Rory was already moving, crossing the space between them in three quick strides.
I watched as Rory’s hands moved gently through Dev’s hair, parting the dark strands with careful fingers. Would Rory mention our bond to him at anypoint? The thought twisted in my stomach. Probably he was waiting until they were alone. Or perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he’d be too embarrassed—or perhaps he wouldn’t want Dev knowing if there was a chance he wanted to get back together. They’d spent almost a year together, whereas we’d only had this very strange week. There was no comparison.
Well, if that’s what Rory wants, oh well. Probably for the best.
Who was I kidding? I wasn’t sure if it was this wolf bond thing amplifying my own organic thoughts or not, but possessive fury bubbled up inside me at the thought of them together.
Christ, what was wrong with me? I’d never been one for obsessing over other people like this. And I was in the middle of a case, for crying out loud.
“Maxwell,” Rory’s concerned voice cut through my thoughts. “Come see this.”
“The mud?”
“This isn’t mud.”
I closed the space between us, peering over Rory’s shoulder. Just above his neck, a tiny portion of Dev’s hair had been shaved away—replaced with a neat line of surgical stitches, no bigger than a five-pence piece.
“Dev, there’s stitches here,” Rory told him. “It looks like you might have had surgery.”
“It’s a small area,” I said. “It’s hard to say for sure what they would even be doing. But…” I gestured at the deliberate line of sutures. “This does suggest they opened him up.”
Rory and I looked at each other. And I knew without telepathy that we were thinking the same thought.
Someone had inserted something in Dev’s brain.
20
Rory
“They must know by now that Devraj somehow escaped,” Seb said.
“Unless it’s a trap.” Kit’s voice crackled through my phone’s speaker. “And they’ve released him deliberately to lure Terrier to them.”
I’d given Seb and Kit the full rundown while Maxwell took guard duty downstairs.
“Teddy was reading Dev’s thoughts. He’s being honest.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t a trap, Terrier! He just might not know it!”
Seb’s voice cut through my brother’s agitation. “I’m also concerned that he might have a tracker implanted on—orin—him. I suggest you burn the clothes.”
