Their Kitten: A Dark MFM Romance

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know where Tristan was last night. I look up from my phone when he walks in, watching him silently as he comes in the living room and sits on the adjacent couch.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask. I glance down at his hand and notice the light bruising on his knuckles. He follows my line of sight and sighs deeply.

“I didn’t hurt Kitten if that’s what you think,” he mumbles.

“Then who did you hurt?” I ask with a raised brow.

“Her fucking landlord.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “I walked in to him trying to rape her.”

“What?!” I exclaim. “Where is she now?”

“At home. Where else?”

“Why the fuck would you leave her there by herself?” I scoff and shake my head. “What makes you think her landlord won’t circle back the moment he saw you leave?”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t try that again,” Tristan replies, his voice sharp.

I shake my head. “I had a feeling he was going to try something. When I first got to her place yesterday, he had her cornered in front of her door. I should’ve had her get a hotel room then.”

“Well, I fucked him up when I saw him yesterday and left him a bloody mess.” Tristan cracks his knuckles. “She can’t stay there.”

“I’ll get her a hotel room,” I say. “At least until she can secure a better place.”

Tristan gives me a look that gives me pause. “Are you sure you want to do that?” He shrugs. “We still don’t know who she is or why she’s hiding it. Why are we going all out for a person who can’t even be honest with us?”

I fight the urge to correct him, feeling bad that I still haven’t told him the truth. Telling Tristan the truth would probably crush him, especially because I know how much he loved her when we were kids.

Tristan and I sit on the side of the pool while Cleo continues to swim, both of us unable to take our eyes off of her. It’s insane how much light she’s brought to our family, fitting in as if she’s always belonged with us. She moves gracefully through the water, her long dark hair flowing behind her. Watching her swim always reminds me of a beautiful mermaid.

“Close your mouth before something flies in it,” I joke, and he responds by shoving me and chuckling.

“Shut up,” he says. We watch her a while longer. “Is it weird to like her?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?” When he doesn’t say anything for a long while, I start to piece together what he’s saying. “You mean…like beyond her being our sister?”

“I mean, she’s not our blood sister or anything.” He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s probably stupid. But I do like her. A lot.”

I nod my understanding. I like her, too. She makes me feel something different, something that feels a little more personal and closer than sibling love, but I know we can’t act on it. To the world, she’s our sister. But underneath all of that is budding love that none of us are ready to confront. I tuck Tristan’s secret into the back of my mind and continue to watch Cleo swim, knowing there’s a good chance she’ll eventually break both of our hearts when she goes off to love someone else.

And to this day, I wish I hadn’t been right about that.

While she didn’t fall in love with someone else, she did leave us. It devastated Tristan and hurt me in ways that I didn’t know still affected me until she came back. I can’t begin to imagine Tristan’s reaction when he learns that the woman we’ve been harassing for the past week is the one woman that tore his heart out all those years ago. Instead, I try to steer the conversation back to helping her.

“If that mattered, you wouldn’t have bloodied her landlord’s face to defend her,” I say. “Like I said, I’m getting her a hotel room. I don’t trust that guy not to try something else or to send someone else to do something to her.”

“Whatever,” Tristan says with a nonchalant shrug. “I just want to know who she is and why she’s being so secretive about it so I can move on with my life.”

“Does that really matter anymore?” I ask. “It doesn’t seem to stop you from fucking her.”

He gives me a cheeky grin. “Who said I can’t have fun while I wait for information?”

I roll my eyes but don’t bother to respond to him. I walk away and grab my keys on the way out the door. If he won’t do anything else to make sure she’s safe, then I guess that means she can only depend on me.

My mind operates on autopilot as I drive to Cleo’s apartment. I speed through red lights, hoping that nothing else has happened by the time I get there. Tristan’s words replay in my mind as I get closer to her neighborhood, my stomach flipping at the thought of that disgusting fuck touching or hurting her. I’m not even sure what I’ll walk in on when I actually get to her apartment. But I keep an open mind and press the gas to get me there faster, just in case.

When I get to the apartment building, her landlord is holding a bag of ice to his eye as he sits in front of a fan. I fight the urge to smirk when he glances at me with his good eye and quickly looks away. Maybe Tristan did teach him a good enough lesson. Bastard.

I rush up the stairs to her apartment and use my key to get in, only to find her standing in the middle of her living room. She looks okay, even though she looks frightened by yet another man in her apartment without her permission. My eyes soften as I look at her.

“You okay, Cleo?” I ask with a sigh.

She rushes into my arms, her body trembling a little. “I’m okay,” she says softly, but I can hear that she’s far from fine. I pull away from her and hold her arms, meeting her sad gaze.

“I need you to go pack a bag or two. I’m taking you to a hotel until we can get you a new apartment,” I state. “I don’t trust that landlord of yours to try anything else stupid.”

“He was upset because I’m behind on rent.” Shame colors her cheeks as she drops her gaze to the ratty carpet below our feet.

“I don’t care if you scratched his car or killed his dog. He had no right to put his hands on you.” I sigh deeply. “Look, just go pack some stuff so we can find you somewhere else suitable to stay.”

“I…I can’t afford to leave yet,” she stammers nervously.

Her words don’t make any sense to me, as I never said anything about her having to pay for anything. “What?”

“I haven’t gotten my money yet,” she confesses. “I went to talk to Lucian about it yesterday, and he says it takes time for that amount to be transferred.”

I shake my head. “I don’t care about that. I’ll handle it until you get your stuff situated. Go pack your bags so we can get out of this hellhole.”

And I definitely don’t have to tell her twice.