Page 2 of Fury of Affliction
The purple monstrosity.
The eyesore.
The thing fucking up the aesthetic in the Hub according to Daimler and everyone else who called Black Diamond home.
Fighting to find his center, Sloan drew a deep breath and kept walking. Toward sanity. Toward certainty. Toward his super computer and the one place guaranteed to quiet the chaotic clang inside his head.
Magic slithering through his veins, he stopped on the Hub’s threshold. Prickles ghosted down his spine. Cool air stirred. His night vision sparked, lighting up dark corners, giving him the lay of the land.
Nothing and nobody. All quiet, for a freaking change.
Surrounded by the buzz of electricity, cocooned in stillness, Sloan reached for calm. He closed his eyes, then took another deep breath. The silence hit him like a body shot. He absorbed the blow. Gladly. With relish. Aware the solitude wouldn’t last long.
It never did inside the lair, but after too many nights of non-stop action, he needed respite from the chatter. From all the good-natured threats his brothers tossed around like livehand grenades every time the pack of lunatics invaded the Hub, kicked back and stayed awhile.
With a sigh, Sloan flicked his wrist. The file folder he carried sailed toward the com-center. Red cardstock hit the target, spilling documents across the desktop as he moved deeper into the room. His keyboard shimmied sideways. Motion sensors activated. The wall-mounted monitors flipped on as his system powered up.
Computer code scrolled across multiple screens.
Gaze moving over the information, he shoved the gaming chair Daimler deemed good enough for him to sit his ass in out of the way. Rubber wheels hissed across smooth concrete. Black leather with red racing strips slammed into the conference table. The stupid thing skittered sideways, then spun into the corner as he palmed the back of his own chair. The one he refused to give up. The one hecouldn’tgive up.
Beat-to-shit from loads of wear and tear, the wide bucket seat spun in his direction. Worn white in spots, purple leather flashed in the lowlight. Rusty metal hinges squawked.
Sloan shook his head.
He hadn’t meant for it to become athing. Why everyone kept giving him shit about it was a question he wanted to ignore. Usuallyignored. Excelled atignoring. An excellent strategy given his packmates threw shade better than a pack of professional hecklers, so…
Yeah.
Absolutely.
Ignoring the idiotic opinions tossed his way on a regular basis worked better than the alternative—allowing his packmates to get under his skin.
He’d perfected the skill of not-giving-a-shit-what-anyone-thought over the years. Or so, he’d believed…until his abilityto deflect began to unravel three weeks ago. The day he met Theodora, and she preceded to rock his world.
Without effort, his mate cut through his defenses. Bonding with his dragon half. Forcing him out of self-imposed isolation. Becoming the light in his darkness the instant he touched her, and she accepted him as her male.
Sloan’s mouth curved.
Goddess, his female. She was so much more than he expected. And after witnessing his packmates claim their chosen females, he’d expected a lot. Theodora made a mockery of his expectations. Outspoken and wise. Brilliant and beautiful. Loving and patient. She was exceptional in every way, turning him inside out without even trying. A blessing. A dream come true. A gift Sloan knew he didn’t deserve, but accepted without hesitation.
Selfish, maybe, but he didn’t care.
Theodora grounded him in ways he found impossible to quantify. Which meant he shouldn’t be in the Hub. Not right now. A smart male knew where to go when he needed calm and understanding—straight into the arms of his mate. No delay. And yet, not wanting to burden her, he shied away, protecting her from the truth, shielding her from the fallout.
Frowning at his computer, Sloan shook his head. It was madness. Pure ego fueled by fear. A hard turn away from vulnerability toward control. Or at least, the illusion of it.
Theodora wanted him to let go, to trust her enough to turn and face his past. She longed to help him find peace, which made his exit from the bed chamber he shared with her idiotic. It was worse than self-serving. It was complete cowardice. He frowned. Not that it mattered. Labeling what drove him into the gym while everyone else slept wouldn’t fix the problem. Nothing would except, maybe…
Sloan sighed.
What in the hell was he doing?
He needed to shift course, return to the greenhouse and the bed he shared with his female. Should, even now, be holding her while she dreamed, instead of staring at computer screens, struggling to stay even on his own.
Old habits, however, died hard.
And some battles a male must fight on his own.