In For The Kill (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Four

I sit with my head in my hands, the sun hot on my back. The sound of cars passing by below rings in my ears. I lost him. I had him right within my grasp, in my very hands, and I immediately lost him. It doesn't matter that I can still feel him, that I know without any conscious effort exactly what direction he's in.

Again, I let him go. The man who snuck his way into the palace. The man who killed my Alpha King, who I felt killing me. I had him, and for the second time, I let him escape.

I lean back on my arms, face tilted up towards the sky. If my cousins were following me, they'd definitely see how unqualified I am. It wouldn't matter who my blood relatives are or how direct of a descendent I am from the founders, I'd be dead before sunrise. My treasonous name wiped from all records.

It grates on my pride to admit it, but my target was right. I shouldn't have taken on this hunt. I shouldn't have lied to my parents. I should have stayed in the palace running damage control like the rest of my minor branch. Sure, the chance of someone else finding out who exactly he is to me would have been significantly higher, but in the face of my own repeated failures even that seems worth the risk.

Groaning under my breath, I allow my attention to drift back over the roof's edge.

The same cluster of dirt-coated kids waits at the end of the alley directly opposite me. They're small with prominent cheekbones and ribs that stand out against the thin, ragged shirts they wear. They're civilians. Or rather, they're supposed to be. I've never been followed by children before, much less lied to by them.

Just a handful of blocks back, I'd approached them. His scent - or rather the lack of one - had woven through their ranks, clinging stubbornly to the cement walkway and bricked walls. Civilians are resourceful, helpful even. They respect the Family and are eager to offer insight for our hunts. I'd assumed these kids would be the same. Despite the consistent, dulled tugging, I'd asked them something simple, basic. Something that should have been easy enough. "Which way did he go?" And they had pointed, not directly away from him, but more than enough degrees off to be on purpose.

I scoff under my breath, faintly recalling how they'd offered to show me the way, and when I'd refused, they'd gathered in that tight huddle, watching my every move.

A murdered King, spying kids, and a soulmate that shouldn't even exist. If I could, I'd laugh. What an absurd day. And to think it started with something as "simple" as a dance.

On the bright side, this exposed to the sun, my black clothes are practically melting to my skin, demanding my attention periodically when my thoughts wander too far or take on too much weight. Even with the faint burning sensation across my shoulders and thighs, it's nowhere near enough to dampen my awareness of him.

He's not far. I would only have to run a couple of miles. I'm sure the closer I get, the easier it'd be to pinpoint where exactly I'm being led. But I don't have the will to move. I don't want to be any nearer or farther than this. This is safe, comfortable even. This close, I can tell what general direction he is, but I don't feel him, not as keenly at least. I can think and control myself just fine over here. There's no need to get into that confusing haze where I can't tell which of us is reacting, which one is begging the other to reach out.

I wince, squeezing my eyes shut against the memory of being so lost in his presence, and turn my face from the sunlight. I can't be closer. Not right now.

I stand and glance over the watchful group below. Either they're just kids and curious of what a guard is doing out alone, or they're not. I don't want to think about the possibility of my target working with any amount of organized activity though. Murder is enough. I won't allow myself to dwell on the possibility of this being more than I'd thought possible.