Dig him out?Lamont shook his head. That would take too long. He did think that if Ewen was alone in…wherever he was…then Lamont could just zap to him and translocate him out. No one would see him, and at least Ewen would be safe.
I need to take a look at this place first. Lamont knew that was the sensible thing to do, but if he didn’t see an obvious way in… He was just going to wing it.
“One step at a time,” Lamont muttered, then let his magic take him. At least when he landed, he’d be in the right vicinity.
Chapter Four
The bathroom breaks definitely didn’t seem to fit a schedule, or so it seemed. It was likely more of a case of some guy upstairs saying, “someone should probably go downstairs and get that scum to the bathroom before he pees himself. We don’t need the stink.” Then, in Ewen’s mind, someone would draw the short straw and make their way down the stairs. Ewen couldn’t say if that was true or not, but sitting alone for hours on end meant his imagination was running wild.
He was reduced to tracking time by the ache in his bladder and the shifting patterns of light that filtered through the door at the top of the stairs anytime anyone came down them. He thought he’d been sitting in the same damn chair for ten days, although it could be eleven. Ewen had dozed off a couple of times. Despite his whole body aching, except for those parts that had gone completely numb, his eyes could only stay open for so long. In truth, he had no idea how long he’d been stuck where he was, and he was well past the point of caring.
Bread and chunks of mutton arrived in the same erratic pattern as bathroom privileges. Nothing more than food scraps that were so dried out they scratched at Ewen’s throat going down. He was always given just enough water to make sure he didn’t die from dehydration, but it was a close thing. His body felt hollow, completely emptied out. The constant gnawing hunger had faded to a dull ache, replaced by a floaty sensation that worried him more than the pain had.
Getting weaker.His fox knew it too, whimpering in the back of his mind, getting increasingly desperate.
The woman had visited twice more since that first interrogation. Yesterday - or was it the day before? - She’d slammed her hand on the metal table hard enough to make Ewen flinch.
“Names.” She’d leaned close enough that Ewen smelled her perfume, something floral and expensive that clashed with the mold and his body odor. “Give me names, Mr. Cross, and this ends. We want the source. We want to know who you’ve shared your work with. Was it the man from the restaurant? Lamont. Does he have them?”
“I told you.” Ewen’s voice came out scratchy. “Don’t know him.”
“Liar.” She’d straightened, smoothing down her blouse. “We have contacts everywhere in Cairo. You spoke to him for three minutes. You gave him something.”
“My business card.” That wasn’t a lie. “I thought we could catch up the next time he was in New York. Maybe grab a coffee.”
Her pale blue eyes narrowed.
You’ll give yourself wrinkles.
“You’re protecting him.”
“You think I’d stay stuck in this chair protecting someone I don’t know?”
“You’ll get out of this chair when you give me your source.”
A likely story. Do you mean get out of the chair when I fall on the floor dead thanks to the man who will probably cut my zip ties and my throat all in one go?Ewen kept his mouth shut. Protecting sources wasn’t just journalistic ethics - it was his personal mantra. It was the core of his being that allowed sources to trust him - the only thing he had left that reminded him that his work, his life, still mattered for something.
She’d left soon after, taking her attitude and her perfume smell with her. Scar-eyebrow had come in later with half a pita and four mouthfuls of water. The bread tasted like cardboard soaked in diesel fuel, but Ewen ate every crumb.
His fox whined near constantly now. The animal was suffering from more than captivity and the inability to shift, though both wore at Ewen’s control like sandpaper against his skin. It took a few days… hours…whatever…for Ewen to realize he was likely suffering from mating sickness. He’d heard that could happen from other shifters when he was younger - whispered stories about what happened when one half of a mated pair rejected or abandoned the other.
The issue was that Lamont hadn’t rejected him as such. He clearly didn’t even know what they were to each other. In the meantime, Ewen’s fox had taken in the scent of the man and was now suffering because of it.
It’s worse. His fox was miserable.He doesn’t want us enough to even find us.
They didn’t know that for sure, but Ewen could see why his fox would think that. Ewen could imagine Lamont being a busy person – much like he was when he wasn’t tied to a chair. Perhaps he always looked at people like they were special, perhaps the concern was Lamont trying to stop himself from farting. He’d clearly just finished dinner.
In the meantime, the bond was pulling at Ewen’s chest like a fishhook lodged behind his sternum, tearing at his insides. His poor animal side kept reaching for something that wasn’t there, searching for a connection that should have snapped into place the moment their eyes met at Pier888. Instead, Lamont had watched two men drag Ewen away and had done absolutely nothing.
He clearly doesn’t know.It wasn’t like he could go bouncing up to a random man – even a fellow journalist – in the entrance of a restaurant and say, “Hey, I’m Ewen. I’ve read your stories. Did you know we’re mates?”
It would’ve helped if Ewen knew what type of paranormal Lamont was. For him it was simple. Shifters recognized their mates through scent. It was instinctual, bone-deep, and undeniable. The fact that Lamont hadn’t reacted meant one of two things - either Lamont wasn’t a shifter but a different paranormal type who didn’t rely on scent for mate recognition, or he was and simply didn’t care.
If he’s a shifter, then he’ll be getting sick, too.That didn’t make Ewen feel any better. No matter what he thought about the stunning man, any option made Ewen’s chest ache in ways that had nothing to do with hunger.It was just my luck to meet a mate who wasn’t blessed with a decent nose.
His fox, already weakened by captivity, was fading faster than he should be. Ewen could feel the sickness spreading through both halves of himself, human and fox tangled together in misery.
We have to escape. The thought circled like water down a drain.Have to try something.