The Cambion's Hoard

Wallace stretched and wiggled out of my grasp. I pouted; he’d been nice and warm. I reached over and scratched beside his tail. He pressed into my hand but, a moment later, vanished with a pop.

I reached over and was disappointed by the time. I’d only been asleep for an hour. Classes and work were wreaking havoc on my sleep schedule. I flopped back and forth for a few minutes and gave in to getting up.

I could hear the boys arguing again when I opened the bedroom door. It was getting old. Tucking my arms under my boobs, I hurried down the stairs.

“Fuck you, Biggs. I don’t have to explain anything. It is done. It is over. It has been for weeks. Be happy because you finally have him all to yourself!”

Thatcher stood on one side of the counter and Biggs on the other. Henson was at the end but closer to Biggs. When Thatcher heard my footsteps, he looked in my direction. His eyes narrowed and then slowly slid down my body. My body reacted to the heat of his stare.

“Did you sleep well?” He leaned on the counter and then stretched away from him. He leaned into the crook of his arms and put his hands on the back of his head.

“I was until you guys started fighting. I was curled up with Wallace and was warm. Were you telling them?” I crossed the kitchen to them and stood next to Thatch.

He shook his head. We’d decided to tell them what was going on once they had woken up. “No, they were both being pissy because they heard you.”

I blushed. I’d never been loud before. Yet, part of me liked that they were jealous of Thatch. I tucked an arm around Thatcher’s. “Don’t you think we should, considering?”

Thatcher kissed my cheek. It was long and warm. When he let me go, he looked at his brother. “I broke up with Henson because she’s, my mate. When she slapped me that first day it triggered the bond. You can be pissed about it, but I didn’t do it on purpose. She’s mine. He’s yours. That’s that.”

The next moments happened so fast but also took an eternity. Biggs leaped over the counter and slammed Thatcher to the floor. He sat on Thatch’s chest and started punching him in the face. Smoke and cinder flooded out of Biggs mouth and nose. Scales rippled over his body. They lit up beneath the fire in the air.

“Stop!” I barely recognized my voice.

I tried to lunge for them, but Henson grabbed me. “Don’t they’ll kill you!”

I screamed. The emotions of the mate bond were unbearable. It was mixed with anger, fear, pain, and jealousy. The jealousy sobered me faster than the darkest coffee. Why was Thatcher jealous? He and I were together, going to be together. Unless?

“Biggs, am I your mate?” He stilled at my words, fist in the air. Thatch’s shirt was clutched tightly in his fist.

I wiggled free of Henson’s grasp and went to them. Grabbing his wrist, I pulled Biggs free from Thatcher’s shirt. “Please, Biggs, you’re hurting us. All of us.”

Biggs looked back at Henson, and the scales faded away. He pulled away, got up, and wrapped Henson into his arms. They clung to each other like they were all that mattered.

I turned back to Thatch and let out a little cry. His nose and jaw were out of place and crooked. Smoke forced bubbles of blood to pop from his nose. I put my hand on his chest and felt for a heartbeat. I let out a sigh.

“Wallace! Wallace!” I heard the little gremlin pop in beside me.

I reached a hand out and put it on his back. Then, touching Thatch’s neck, I found his pulse to steady my own. “Wallace, please, please take us to Patti.”

Wallace meowed, and we blinked out of our dimension.