Wylder’s chin was up, gorgeous turquoise eyes hard with determination.
“Wyld—” Sigurd started before Wylder held a hand up.
“No. You’ve all hidden this from me for thirty years. My mother died closing that door, and now these people are coming after me, trying to open it again. I’m not going to sit idly by when I could be doing something about it.”
“So you want to play right into their hands instead?” Silva couldn’t let this happen. He needed Wylder safe and hidden away.
“In case you haven’t noticed”—Wylder spread his arms wide, motioning to the overturned table and the black singe marring the concrete outside the open door—“I’m already in it. We don’t even know for sure that they know about me.”
“Wylder.” It was the first time Silva had said his mate’s name. It felt good on his tongue.
“No—” Wylder started, but Sigurd stepped closer, lifting his hand and cutting him off.
“I don’t like it either, Silva”—a surge of gratitude for his friend went through him—“but…it’s as much his fight as anyone’s. Moreso, perhaps.” Sigurd lowered his voice. “Only the four of us know how the door works. As long as they don’t know who he is, he’ll be as safe with you as he would be anywhere.”
The appreciation he’d been ready to express turned to ash in his mouth. Sigurd didn’t realize that not everything was as it had been when Silva arrived that morning. Didn’t know what Silva had discovered when he went to wake Wylder. If he did, he wouldn’t be asking Silva to agree to this.
“Let’s table this for now. I’ll call Kerak so we can get a plan together.” Lenette glanced between them all, meeting Silva’s eyes last with a knowing look.
Chapter
Two
Wylder
Wylder didn’t even know Silva, not really, but he could tell Silva was pissed. They’d relocated to the Paranormal Council building and gathered in a basement conference room with no windows and runes carved into the doorframe.
Most of them were sitting around the table, debating their course of action and how to handle the threat, but not Silva. No. He hadn’t said a word since they left the house, and now he was leaning against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest with a blank look on his face.
Fine, Wylder thought. Let him be angry. Wylder wasn’t backing down.
“We must find out how much they know,” Kerak was saying when Wylder tuned back in. He’d seen the Demon King before, but never in such close proximity. When Kerak had first walked in, the invincible force of his presence pressed against Wylder’s chest until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. It had only lasteda moment, but Wylder understood why people—paranormals included—were terrified of him.
Derek nodded. Kerak had insisted his Hellhound Alpha be included in the meeting. None of the others objected, so Wylder listened as they brought Derek up to speed. “I can handle that.”
“Good.” Kerak let out a deep breath.
Lenette narrowed her eyes. “Feeling alright, Kerak?”
For a moment, he only looked at her, dark gaze burning with a power Wylder couldn’t truly wrap his mind around. Eventually, he let out another breath. “It’s Reid. He’s…unwell, and it weighs on me.”
Lenette, Sigurd, and Silva all straightened like they’d been shocked.
Lenette spoke first. “Unwell? How?”
“We don’t know, but please, let’s stay on task. Reid’s health is the reason I wanted Derek here. He and the Hellhounds are at your disposal. My focus and energy must be with my mate.”
“Of course,” Sigurd said.
Wylder tried to keep from looking at Silva, but it was impossible. He glanced in Silva’s direction, hoping he’d be focused on Kerak like everyone else, but his silver gaze met Wylder’s without hesitation.
“Take care of your mate, your Highness,” Silva said, never looking away from Wylder. “We’ll handle this.”
After a few more minutes of discussion, they adjourned. Kerak was gone so quickly that Wylder’s half-human eyes couldn’t track the movement. “Holy shit,” he mumbled to himself as hepushed in the chair he’d been sitting in and started for the door. He’d barely walked through it, the others a fair distance in front of him, when Silva grabbed his arm. Searing warmth radiated up from Silva’s bare skin against his, making his breath catch.
Behind him, Silva made a similar noise a second before he yanked Wylder to the side and pressed him against the wall.
For a moment, all Wylder could focus on was the unyielding stone against his back. He met Silva’s gaze, so close to his, and his whole focus shifted to the equally determined Fae in front of him.