“Just give me time,” he repeated, and after a heavy look, Magic slipped out of the security office, shutting the door behind him.
Gash released his breath in a hearty whoosh, sagging in his chair and pressing his palm to the tight ache in the center of his chest. It was getting worse, the pain.
His jag-lion was ripping him up for what had happened tonight, for the way things had gone down since he’d arrived here. For not giving him a mate. For not protecting her good enough. The cat thought he could do a much better job and wanted out, wanted the chance to prove it.
Not fucking happening.
The cat would claim Bailey on the spot, with or without her approval. The cat thought he knew what was best for her, but he was wrong.
Gash knew her.
She’d joined a clan whose main caveat up until a few months ago was that they refused to mate. She hadn’t done it for nothing. She’d done it for protection from a forced mating, why else?
Luckily, Gash had a way of calming the animal.
Leaning forward, he clicked the mouse over a saved and encrypted file, quickly typing in the passcode: mylife. A video from the security camera he’d installed in the kitchen when they’d had a thieving problem popped up on the main monitor screen. It was one he’d cut and saved so he could review it over and over.
It was of Bailey as she stood, talking to Clara one evening. Her hip was propped against the stainless steel counter, her arms crossed casually under her ample chest while she nodded, completely engrossed in her friend’s story. She wore a plain black t-shirt with a pocket on the front. It looked like a man’s and he remembered being so fucking jealous the first time he’d seen it, so sure it had once belonged to a lover. But then he noticed she had many of them, and it was just part of her daily uniform, which was always covered by a navy blue chef’s jacket.
The cat inside grumbled a weak purr, semi-appeased by the sight of his mate smiling as she chatted. Her smile did so much for him. Seeing her happy was the ultimate victory.
Gash tucked the file away, back behind its protective encryption. He needed to see her in real-time. See how she was doing after everything that went down tonight.
He swallowed the sour taste of trepidation down his throat. If she wasn’t okay… damn, if she wasn’t okay…
He’d go to her. He’d comfort her. Find a way to do it without his animal getting in the way, because she deserved someone to lean on even if just for a little while. Even if it couldn’t be permanent.
Several clicks later, he found her where she seemed most comfortable. The kitchen.
Wearing her pretty red sundress from the party earlier. Dark, corkscrew hair pulled up in a knot, showcasing the three braids along one side of her head. A stark white apron covered her front as she stood at the counter furiously chopping carrots.
Gash watched her from behind the camera. She couldn’t see him, wouldn’t know. No one would. It was safe. Right now, he could just watch her and take in every movement and tiny quirk, and store it away to recall later.
He zoomed in on her face and let his finger trail along her cheek. A small smile she probably wasn’t even trying for curved her full lips as she went about her work.
Inside, he calmed even more, a fragile peace settling over him as his breath evened.
His mate was so beautiful. God, he never imagined his female would be so perfect. More than ever, he wished he was good enough for her. Wished he didn’t have such a fucked up past. Wished he could’ve been born to this clan somehow instead of the one he’d called family for too long. Maybe then, he could have his Bailey without fearing for her safety.
The animal inside him let off a harsh growl, a warning. But before Gash could discern what it was, Bailey’s face crumpled on the screen, pinching as she hunched over the counter, both hands bracing her weight as if she could hardly stay upright.
Gash sat straighter, pulling the camera angle out so he could see the whole room. But she was alone in the kitchen. There was no threat. The video had no sound but he could tell she was sobbing and it tore at his heart.
Damn it, no. He couldn’t see her cry again. The first time had ripped him up inside. Felt like fire licking his bones. Because he’d caused it. But he’d caused it this time too, hadn’t he? His fucking history had her scared, with no one to ease her. It was a goddamn injustice. His Bailey was too good and sweet to cry over him.
He stood so abruptly, his chair swiveled back and hit the opposite wall with a bang. But he didn’t move yet. His heavy fists planted on the desk as he stared at the monitor, breath heaving, struggling with what to do.
Go to her, and help?
Stay, and watch? Maintain his distance no matter how much it hurt.