The Sleeper's Harp (The Arcane Artifacts, #1)

Chapter 10 - A New Roommate

Eleanor made a choking sound. "With...with you?"

"You heard me. Hurry up." Her mouth opened—"Look, Sugar, I don't want you here longer than necessary. You've seen enough."

She stared at him, unblinking. He didn't back down. Fuck that. She could glare all she wanted.

Over his dead body was he going leave her here. He ran a hand over the shaved side of his scalp. Fucking hell. What the fuck was wrong with him? This was not how things were supposed to happen.

He cataloged a few of his good friends. Perhaps she could stay with one of them. He knew a couple of people who could probably keep her safe—

No. Just, fucking, no. He was not about to trust anyone else with her safety. Not when someone clearly wanted to harm her. He thought he knew who it was, too. That fucking piece of shit from last night. She'd said his name. Luke. That's who had done this. He'd bet money on it.

God, damn it. He should have gone after him—could have prevented this if he had. But he hadn't been able to leave her alone last night.

Eleanor blew out a breath. "Okay." Her voice was barely a whisper. He deflated, glad this wasn't about to become a battle—

A yowl screeched. He went tense, spinning on his heel. Eleanore dashed forward, pushing past him. "Oh my, God. Teddy?!" She reached for the white and gray cat being carried from Peter's apartment. "Stop. That's—give him to me," she insisted.

The WBI employee eyed Bastian a moment, as if asking for guidance. He lifted his eyebrows, better listen to the woman, and the investigator relented.

The cat tumbled into Eleanor's arms, immediately wedging its head beneath her chin. He gawked at her. What the fuck? She closed his leather jacket around the frightened creature.

Oh, hell fucking no. Now he'd get it back covered in cat fur. Great.

"You poor thing. Poor baby," she cooed, nuzzling the cat. Her eyes filled with tears and squeezed them shut. "I'm going to take care of you from now on, okay? Everything's going to be okay," she whispered, bouncing the damn thing like it was a baby.

He grumbled, forcing himself to focus on the sight of her cuddling it. If she wanted something to cuddle, he was standing right—no. He clenched his teeth. "Sugar, we are not taking a cat home."

She rounded on him, expression tightening. "Oh yes, we are! Teddy's coming with us. Otherwise, I'm not going."

"Mother fucking fuck," he muttered.

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, all five foot eight inches of her. Her fierce expression silenced him from further protest. "Fine. Go get your shit. We're leaving."

"I'll need to get Teddy's stuff too, his litter box and whatnot."

His head fell back, gaze towards the ceiling. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. This fucking female. She went from cute to irritating at the drop of a hat. "Get whatever you need," he bit out, straightening up, willing patience into his tone. "I need to talk to a few more people before we go. You've got ten minutes."

***

Ten minutes later, Teddy was in his cat carrier. Bastian held the carrier in one hand, a duffle bag of cat things thrown over his shoulder—fucking cat things!—while guiding Eleanor by the elbow through the gathered crowd. She wheeled a massive suitcase behind her in one hand and carried an empty litter box in the other.

"Don't talk to anyone," he warned, tipping his head low to her ear. The scent of his shampoo swirled around him. His stomach swooped. It smelled good on her. He'd been doing that a lot lately, inching close to speak with her, to smell her, which had only been necessary half the time.