Dark Bonds (Shadow Locke Shifters #2)

13. Leo

Chapter 13

Leo

The bass thumps through me, each beat syncing with my pulse. I can’t help but grin as I take in the scene—spilled beer, sweaty bodies, and the electric charge of possibility in the air. It’s your typical college rager, but tonight, I have other plans. I scan the crowd, searching for one person in particular—Matteo. Just thinking his name sends a shiver down my spine. We’ve been apart for way too long, and I’m itching for some alone time.

It’s been an eternity since we’ve had a moment alone, and need claws at me like a ravenous beast demanding to be fed. We spent our entire break up north, caught in the suffocating embrace of family obligations. Now, all I crave is the taste of his lips and the heat of his skin. Maybe I can also convince him to apply for a pack house to convince Frankie to accept us both.

A guy can dream, even if those dreams are stained with shadow and sin.

The beat drops, the crowd roars, and I finally spot him. Matteo leans against the wall with a predatory smirk on his lips as his eyes scan the room. Our gazes lock across the surging mass of bodies, and electricity shoots through me, sharp and dangerous. I fight my way through the sweaty throng, my mission pulsing in my veins like a drug I can’t resist.

A familiar wave of nervousness washes over me as I close the distance between us. The music thumps, the crowd screams, but all I see is Matteo. His smirk deepens into a full-blown smile as I reach him, and I swear my heart skips a beat, tripping over itself in its eagerness to please him.

As I approach, I finally get a good look at him. His tight black T-shirt hugs every muscle, and his jeans cling to him like a second skin. My shadow shifter perks up, growling in approval. Mine.

“Hey, handsome,” I purr, sidling up to him and slipping my hand into his, relishing the heat of his skin against mine.

“You clean up well,” he says with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at my emerald green button-up and black trousers. “Trading in your usual for something more… formal?”

Heat creeps into my cheeks as I chuckle nervously, hating how easily he can reduce me to a fumbling mess. “Yeah, well… thought I’d try something different for once.” The truth is, I’d torn through my entire closet, desperate to find anything that might make me worthy of his gaze. My stomach does a backflip when he leans in close, his breath tickling my ear. Damn, the effect this guy has on me.

“It suits you,” he says before his hands snag my hips, pulling me close with a possessiveness that makes my breath catch. “Took you long enough.” His words are a dark promise that send shivers down my spine.

“I was held up, rough crowd at the soda station,” I quip, brushing my lips against his earlobe, tasting the salt on his skin.

He laughs, the vibration against my neck sending jolts of electricity through my body. “Well, I’m glad you made it. I was starting to think you’d stood me up.”

“Not a chance,” I say firmly, tugging him by his shirt collar, needing him closer. “Come on, let’s find someplace quieter.” He nods in agreement, and we slip away from the chaos of the field, two shadows merging into one.

We weave through the crowd until we find a tree large enough to shield us from prying eyes. The moment we round the trunk, Matteo’s lips are on mine, hungry and desperate. We crash together like we’re making up for lost time. It’s all lips, teeth, and tongue and exactly what I’ve been craving for months.

My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as our tongues dance in a familiar yet electric tango. His hands roam over my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I can feel the heat radiating off him, even in the cool night air, and I want to burn with him.

My heart pounds in my chest, both from the adrenaline of being out in the open and the overwhelming desire for more. I’ve missed this—missed him—with an intensity that frightens me. We’re both panting when we finally break apart, breathless and flushed, desire burning in our eyes.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” Matteo whispers, his lips mere centimeters from mine.

“Me too,” I manage to say, my voice hoarse with longing. “It’s been too long.”

He nods in agreement, his eyes swirling with unspoken words and dark promises I long to hear. “Yeah, it has.” He brushes a stray hair from my forehead, his touch sending shivers down my spine, igniting a fire low in my belly.

Just as our lips are about to meet again, a sharp exchange cuts through the music like a knife. I whip my head around, my playful mood dissolving faster than fog in sunlight as it’s replaced by a cold dread that settles in my gut.

“Stupid bitch,” someone spits, venom dripping from the words. Amanda and Chloe. Like a bad penny, they are always turning up where they are not wanted, leaving chaos in their wake. I glance at Matteo, a silent conversation passing between us.

This isn’t good. You could cut the tension with a knife. Everyone’s on edge, like we’re one wrong word away from a full-on brawl.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Matteo we should find somewhere more secluded when I hear Frankie’s voice, barely audible over the bass.

“Let’s go get our girl.” Matteo bites my lip hard enough to draw blood before he takes off, leaving me to trail behind him with the taste of copper on my tongue.

Oh hell no. I want to get to her first, so I dart past him, my heart pounding with fear and anticipation. I arrive just in time to see a shield snap out of Frankie, black as night and pulsing with power.

“Whoa.” I’m so stunned, all I can do is stand there, rooted to the spot. Gathered between the rugby field and the tower dorm, Frankie and Tori face off against Amanda and Chloe, the air thick with hostility. The shield lingers for a long moment before it dissipates, leaving behind a charged silence.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those, and my girl created it. Hell yeah. Fuck, that’s hot.

“Are you girls alright?” Matteo asks, his gaze flitting between Frankie and Tori, who’s slowly pulling herself off the ground, her eyes wide with shock.

“We… We’re fine,” Frankie stammers. She doesn’t look fine. In fact, she looks like she might pass out at any moment, her face pale and drawn.

A deep, composed voice cuts through the air, steady and authoritative. It sends a shiver down my spine, a mixture of fear and respect. “Everyone, let’s take a step back. Frankie, Tori, come with us. We’ll sort this out,” Bishop says, his dark eyes assessing the situation with a coldness that makes me shiver.

Oh man, why does he have to show up and be the party pooper? Even as I think it, I know we need him. This situation is spiraling out of control faster than we can handle.

I step toward my girl, but naturally, I need to make sure these two bullies know I don’t want them. “Hey now, Chloe,” I say, “if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked. No need to go all feline fury on my friends.” I give them a wink for good measure before stepping close to Frankie, positioning myself between her and potential danger.

Amanda and Chloe, clearly flustered, mutter something under their breath and disappear to probably torture someone else, but I know this isn’t over. In our world, nothing ever is.

Matteo just shares a look with Bishop, a silent conversation I’m not a part of. A pang of jealousy, sharp and unexpected, rips through me as I watch Matteo lean in and whisper something in Bishop’s ear. My fists clench at my sides, and I force myself to look away, hating the darkness that rises within me at the sight.

“We were just coming to find you two,” Matteo says, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his concern.

We were trying to have a moment, but that’s good too . The bitterness in my thoughts surprises me, and I push it down, focusing on what matters—Frankie.

“What was that?” I ask, stepping closer. I am inching my way toward Frankie, drawn to her like a moth to flame, even knowing I might get burned.

Frankie looks around, her eyes unseeing, lost in some internal struggle. Yeah, something isn’t okay with her. “I… I don’t know. I just… felt a surge of energy and then…” Her voice trails off, and her usually haunted eyes appear more sunken in, like she saw something that shook her to her core.

“It was a shield,” Matteo says quietly, his gaze thoughtful. “A powerful one. You protected yourselves without even realizing it.”

“What does it mean?” Frankie whispers, and I see her waver a little, her strength failing her.

“Easy there,” I tell her, reaching out to steady her, my heart in my throat.

The color drains from Frankie’s face, leaving it ashen white. Her eyes flutter closed, and a tremor runs through her body. Before I can react, her knees buckle, and she crumples to the ground. My heart lurches, and a strangled cry escapes my lips as I lunge forward and catch her just before she hits the ground, sweeping her up into my arms. Her head lolls against my shoulder, her eyes closed and face as pale as death.

“We need to get her somewhere safe,” I say urgently, looking up at Matteo and Bishop. They exchange a glance before Bishop nods. “Nurse?”

We have an infirmary. But I don’t know if anyone is in there. And something tells me this is beyond the scope of normal medical care.

“Bring her this way,” he says, already turning on his heel and striding off without checking if we’re following. Matteo falls into step beside me as I hurry after Bishop. Frankie is a limp weight in my arms and terrifyingly still.

“The infirmary.” Tori jogs to keep up with our long-legged strides. I want to leave her behind, but Frankie wouldn’t forgive me for that, and right now, Frankie’s wishes are all that matter.

“No.” Bishop doesn’t even spare her a glance as he answers, his tone brooking no argument.

“Matteo,” I call. “Tori.”

He doubles back and scoops up Tori, Bishop barely waiting for us to catch up. The urgency in the air is thick enough to choke on.

We wind through campus, the music from the party fading into the distance, replaced by an eerie silence. Bishop takes us to this ancient-looking dorm, sneaking us in through a side door. The place is dead silent, our footsteps echoing like we’re in some creepy haunted house movie as we climb the stairs.

At the end of a long corridor, Bishop unlocks a heavy wooden door engraved with strange symbols that seem to writhe and shift in the low light. Inside is a cozy study with walls lined with books, a crackling fireplace, and worn leather furniture. I gently lay Frankie on the sofa, brushing her dark hair back from her face. She looks small and fragile, her chest barely rising with each shallow breath. My heart clenches at the sight, fear and love warring within me.

“What happened to her?” I ask Bishop as he closes the door behind us. The air feels heavy with some unseen energy that raises the hair on my arms and makes my shadow shifter restless beneath my skin.

“Manifesting that shield took more power than she realized,” Bishop says, crossing his arms as he gazes down at Frankie’s unconscious form, his expression unreadable.

I kneel next to Frankie, taking her cold hand in mine. Her skin’s so cold it makes me flinch. God, she feels like she’s been dunked in ice water. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, their frantic fluttering making it hard to breathe.

“Will she be okay?” I ask Bishop, hating how vulnerable I sound.

He thinks for a moment before replying, his words measured and careful. “I believe so. She just needs to rest and regain her strength.”

I nod, not taking my eyes off Frankie’s face. She looks vulnerable like this, so unlike the fierce, haunted girl I’ve come to love. I brush my fingers over her cheek, wishing I could take away whatever pain she’s feeling.

Tori perches on the edge of a leather armchair, gnawing on her lip. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was like this glowing wall appeared out of nowhere, but it was black like our shadows, and it glowed.” I can see her trying to rationalize the impossible.

Hell, I can barely make sense of it myself. The world as we know it is changing, and Frankie is at the center of it all.

Matteo stands near the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel. “Frankie’s powers are clearly growing stronger, but it seems she doesn’t have full control of them yet.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Bishop agrees gravely. “Which is why she must start training with me immediately. Her abilities have tremendous potential, but power without discipline is dangerous.” His words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

I frown, not liking the sound of that. The idea of Frankie training with Bishop and spending more time with him… it sets my teeth on edge. “When was the last time a shadow shifter produced a shield?” I continue to run my thumb over her cheek, needing to reassure myself that she’s still here, still breathing.

No one answers me, and I turn around. Bishop, Matteo, and Tori exchange glances before looking back at me. It’s Bishop who shakes his head, his expression grim.

“What does no mean?” I nearly squeak, fear clawing at my throat.

“I’m calling Dorian.” Tori whips out her phone, one that Bishop nearly dives for. “No.” She swats his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Tori.” Bishop tries to appeal to her, but that is one ex he is not going to get any sympathy from. The tension between them is thick enough to cut with a knife, years of hurt and betrayal simmering just beneath the surface.

“Oh hell no.” She puts the phone on speaker, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

“What?” Dorian’s pretentious tone weaves out of the speaker, dripping with disdain even through the tinny sound of the phone.

“It’s amazing to hear your voice,” Tori snaps, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Have you ever seen a shadow shifter produce a shield?”

Dorian is quiet for a long while. Too damn long. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment. “Where is Frankie?” he finally asks, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion.

“Dorian, just answer the question,” Bishop demands, his patience clearly wearing thin.

It won’t work on the dragon. I can hear him shuffling around and the sound of fabric rustling before a door slams.

“On my way.” The phone clicks, leaving us in stunned silence.

“Great, now he is on his way.” Bishop tugs at the strands of his black hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “He probably has a tracker on your phone.”

I gently brush a strand of hair away from Frankie’s face, ignoring them as she lies unconscious on the sofa. Her breathing is slow and shallow, her skin cold to the touch. I’m worried about her, even though Bishop assured me she just needs rest, but in our world, nothing is ever that simple.

Every few seconds, my fingers brush her cheek, desperate for any sign of life or hint of warmth. Her face is a pale mask, beautiful even in unconsciousness, but haunting in its stillness. The room shrinks around us, the air thick and heavy with tension, unspoken fears, and desires. All I can do is wait for her to wake and pray she won’t remember collapsing in front of everyone.

The door suddenly bursts open, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the tense silence. Dorian strides in, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud, dark and ominous. His eyes immediately zero in on Frankie’s limp form, and something flashes in their depths—concern, possessiveness, or hunger? He crosses the room with quick strides and crouches down beside her, placing a hand on her forehead. I fight the urge to slap his hand away and shield Frankie from his touch.

“What happened?” he demands, his voice sharp as a blade.

“Well, that was fast,” I grumble, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone. I quickly explain the shadow shield Frankie manifested and how it seemed to drain her energy completely. Dorian’s frown deepens as I talk, and his eyebrows draw together, creating a crease that I long to smooth away—or deepen.

“I’ve never seen or heard of a shadow shifter being able to create a shield before,” he says grimly. “Her powers are developing in unpredictable ways.” He tilts his head to the side, as if listening to some distant call that only he can hear.

“What is it?” Tori pops up and begins to pace, her nervous energy bubbling out of her like a cauldron about to boil over.

“It’s something I heard a long time ago about light shifters.” He frowns, his eyes distant with memory. “But Frankie is a shadow shifter.” The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of impossibility.

“Spit it out,” Bishop demands, his patience wearing thin.

“They can shield.” Dorian runs a thumb across his bottom lip, the gesture oddly sensual in the tense atmosphere. He turns his piercing gaze on Bishop, and I can feel the crackle of power between them. “You need to start training her immediately. Guide her in controlling and mastering her abilities before they overtake her.”

He doesn’t say, “Before they destroy her,” but we all hear it.

Bishop nods, his face a mask of determination. “I intended to start tomorrow. For now, she needs rest.”

Dorian stands, raking a hand through his dark hair. His energy sparks with frustration and worry, filling the room with a charge that makes my skin prickle. “Watch over her closely,” he says tersely. “Call me if anything changes.”

“Wait.” Bishop grabs his bicep, his grip tight enough to whiten his knuckles. He looks at me and Matteo, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “I’m applying for a pack dorm.”

For a second, everyone’s frozen, like Bishop just dropped a live grenade in the middle of the room, then all hell breaks loose.

“What?” Tori explodes, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. Frankie stirs in her sleep, a small whimper escaping her lips. “You can’t.” Her face burns red with fury and betrayal.

“I can and I will,” Bishop argues, his voice low and dangerous.

“No, I won’t allow you to.” Tori goes toe to toe with Bishop, her small frame vibrating with rage. It’s clear the two of them have years of hurt and resentment to work out. “It’s up to the female to create the pack. It’s up to Frankie to decide if she wants to apply for a pack house, not you four. I won’t allow you to take that decision from her. If she wants to live in a pack dorm with you lot, then she needs to make that happen.”

I turn around, my heart racing. “Tori, shh.” She glares at me, her eyes flashing with a hatred that makes me take a step back. I shut the fuck up before she tries to kill me, knowing that in this moment, she might.

“Frankie is powerful. She needs mates to balance that power,” Bishop argues, his tone maddeningly calm.

Tori’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh, spare me the BS, Bishop,” she snaps, her voice rising. “What makes you think she’d ever choose you? Once a cheater, always a cheater, or did you conveniently forget how you two started?”

The words hit like a physical blow, and I see Bishop flinch. Burn . The room feels like a powder keg, just waiting for someone to light the fuse.

“Tori.” Bishop holds up his hands in a placating gesture that does nothing to calm the storm. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Get the fuck out.” Tori points at the warded door, her finger shaking with rage.

“This is my personal office. You can’t kick me out.” Bishop tosses his hands in the air, frustration evident in every line of his body. “If you would just listen?—”

“Watch me.” Tori pushes him backwards, her small hands connecting with his chest with enough force to make him stumble. “And no, you have to earn my attention.”

“You can’t just ignore me, Tori.” Bishop tries to reason with her, his voice taking on a pleading edge that makes my stomach churn.

“We don’t need you,” she growls, and the words carry the weight of years of pain. “We can handle this without you.”

Handling it apparently involves her bestie fainting in the middle of a party. Frankie needs protection, whether she likes it or not. The thought rises unbidden, sharp and possessive.

I watch the standoff between Tori and Bishop warily, caught between my desire to protect Frankie and my fear of overstepping. Neither is backing down, both determined to have their way. Frankie stirs in her sleep again, mumbling something I can’t understand. I move closer to soothe her, brushing the hair from her face. She settles once more, though her skin remains cold and pale, a reminder of how fragile she is.

I know Tori wants to protect Frankie’s independence, but Bishop has a point too. Frankie’s powers are expanding rapidly, and she needs help learning control. Perhaps there’s a compromise here, a middle ground where Frankie gets support without sacrificing her autonomy, but with Tori and Bishop at each other’s throats, reason can’t get a word in edgewise.

Matteo steps forward, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “This argument solves nothing,” he says steadily, his voice a balm to my frayed nerves. “What matters now is helping Frankie. We can decide the rest when she wakes.”

Tori snorts derisively. “Stay out of this, Matteo. You don’t get a say in Frankie’s life.”

Matteo’s jaw tightens at the dismissal, a muscle jumping in his cheek. I wince in sympathy—none of us want to be sidelined, but Matteo and I especially have no grounds to interfere. We’re outsiders looking in on a world we desperately want to be part of.

“Frankie needs to decide her path forward,” Dorian interjects, his voice firm with authority. “We will present all options when she wakes, then respect her choice.” He looks pointedly at Bishop and Tori. “Agreed?”

Clearly they don’t agree. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on, filled with unspoken threats and promises.

Tori crosses her arms and glares at Bishop, her eyes burning with hatred. “Fine, but I’m staying right here until Frankie wakes up.”

Bishop’s jaw clenches, but he gives a terse nod. “We’ll see what she has to say.” The words are a challenge, a promise of battles to come.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and go find a healer?” Tori snaps at Bishop, her words sharp enough to draw blood.

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch. I swear I can see sparks flying between Tori and Bishop. Dorian pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he’s aged ten years in the last ten minutes.

“Enough.” Dorian’s voice cuts through the chaos like a whip. “Bishop, find some mattresses. We’re staying here tonight.” His tone brooks no argument.

I open my mouth, ready with a quip to lighten the mood, but the words die on my lips. The gravity of the situation hits me like a sucker punch. This isn’t just some petty drama. Frankie’s life could be at stake, and here I am, feeling more useless than ever.

As everyone scrambles to follow Dorian’s orders, I stay rooted to the spot, my hand never leaving Frankie’s. The air feels charged with an energy I can’t quite name. Something’s coming. I can feel it in my bones.

We all end up on the floor in the weirdly warded room while tension crackles all around us. I lie next to Frankie, one hand resting on her arm, feeling the slow, steady beat of her heart. It’s the only thing keeping me grounded as the others bicker and argue around us.

I close my eyes, breathing in Frankie’s scent and letting it calm me. Whatever comes next, whatever battles we face, I know one thing for certain—I’ll do anything to keep her safe and by my side, even if it means fighting against the very people I’ve come to call friends.

In all this mess of shadows and power plays, one thing’s crystal clear—Frankie matters most. Everything else is just noise.