Wrath: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 2 (2 page)

Clay checked my temperature and vitals, forced a little more pain medication down my protesting throat, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Where did Bahlin go?”

“Go? He left the room earlier but I had no idea he’d left the apartment.”

“He waited for me in the hallway and asked me to stay here for a couple of hours while he ran some errands.”

Ah
, I thought,
the infamous “errands.”
Bahlin spent more and more time running these unspecified errands every day. If I didn’t know better, I’d imagine he was having some illicit affair. But the guy couldn’t stand to be touched anymore, and wouldn’t accept even easy and familiar affection. Instead I assumed he was driving aimlessly, finding whatever reasons he could to be out of the apartment and away from me. As Glaaca, or leader of the weyr, no one questioned him.

Bahlin had issued a leadership challenge before the decisively terminal fight with his father and had been elevated to the leadership position of Glaaca by default. Dragons have some strange rules, but this was one I could get behind because now no one could challenge Bahlin for the position of Glaaca for twelve months. I was afraid if anyone challenged him at this point, he’d simply let them have the weyr. Not so big a deal, except most weyr coups were not staged as passive takeovers.

I sat up in bed, groaning softly at the heavy discomfort in my belly. My bruises had started to fade to that sickly greenish-yellow around the edges, though I wouldn’t have called it a visual improvement. The hex mark over my heart was still black and blistered, and no amount of healing energy had been able to resolve it. I gently shifted my legs off the side of the bed and let them hang while I got my bearings. I was a little dizzy, probably a little dehydrated, and definitely a lot confused. Clay approached me and held out his hands.

“Bathroom break?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He helped me up and I shuffled to the bathroom, holding onto his forearms fiercely in an effort to stay vertical. We made it to the bathroom, and Clay pulled my pants down before helping me sit on the toilet. I blushed slightly. Humiliation has neither boundaries nor limits for the physically sick or broken.

“I’ll be right outside,” Clay murmured, pulling the door shut behind him.

I sat there, not so much for relief as for the few private minutes I could steal.

What’s going on with Bahlin?
I wondered. Obviously he’d killed his father and sister, and now he felt guilty about everything. But why would that drive him out of the flat? There was only one answer, and it wasn’t “why” but rather “who”: me.
And you’re supposedly some super sleuth?
I snorted then bit my lip at the pain caused by clenching my abdominal muscles.

It wasn’t so farfetched to assume Bahlin might regret choosing me over his family. That would leave him stuck in an engagement he probably didn’t want to honor. My heart sank and I shuddered, moaning softly at the pain in my stomach. I nearly choked on the lump of emotion caught in the back of my throat. If this was true, it complicated things. Regardless, I didn’t like feeling stuck here, in Bahlin’s apartment, with nowhere else to go.

What about the room at the hotel?
I wondered, letting the thought coalesce.

Okay, I could go to the hotel. There was my out. I’d just put a little space between us and see how things played out. But first I had to get my pants back up.

Clay helped me back to the bedroom, then went to grab me a bottle of water from the kitchen. I began to slowly gather some of my belongings that were scattered like the leaves of fall around the room: bits here and there, no real logic to their placement, they’d just stayed where they’d landed. I found a pair of socks on the nightstand, a book on the chair, jeans on top of the dresser, and a bra at the foot of the bed. I’m such a slob.

I stuffed my meager belongings into the trusty messenger bag that had followed me all over England and Scotland, and I shuffled back to the bedroom door.

“Hey,” Clay exclaimed when he saw me in the doorway. “You’re not supposed to be up. What gives?”

“I need to get out of here, Clay. Now.”

He scanned the room, his eyes shifting to the familiar icy blue that Bahlin’s turned pre-shift. He scented the air. “There’s no one here. What’s the rush?”

“Just trust me on this. I want you to take me to the Pemberton and get me back to my room.”

“Sure. But you know I’ve got to ask, Maddy. Why?”

I looked at me feet, unsure how much of my and Bahlin’s angst to reveal. “It’s really private, okay? I’ll consider it an enormous personal favor if you just get me there.”

He snapped a mock salute and said, “Aye aye, ma’am.”

Despite it all, I couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at one corner of my mouth, and he grinned in return. His attempt to cheer me was appreciated but far short of what—or who—I really needed.

He grabbed my meager belongings and offered me his arm for support. Clinging to him, I ignored the beads of sweat popping out at my hairline. I wasn’t going to let pain get the better of me. After all, big girls don’t cry.

Chapter Two

The trip by car was a bitch. Every bump seemed to make my liver wobble, and I thought my spleen was going to rupture from the tightening and releasing of the seatbelt. It was miserable.

Pulling up under the
port cochère
, I recognized the valet and smiled at him. He did a double-take at my present condition but said nothing about the cuts and bruises decorating my topography. I made it through the lobby with the predictable stares and behind-the-hand whispers, grateful to reach the bench in the elevator car. Rapid movement caught my eye as I turned, and I swore I saw a familiar face in the crowd—long hair, androgynous build, pixie-like face. Definitely fae, but he—or she—was gone too fast for me to be sure I recognized him. We rode up to the twenty-second floor and Clay helped me into the room. I still thought it was too lavish, with its electric fireplace, bedroom-bathroom combo located behind leaded glass French doors that separated it from the living area and the million-dollar view of Big Ben and the Thames, but Bahlin had insisted. I wasn’t proud I had, predictably, caved to his wishes.

Stripping to my T-shirt and underwear with Clay’s help, I crawled into bed and was grateful for the man’s medical indifference to my state of undress.

He settled the covers carefully around me. “Need anything else for the moment?”

“No, I—” The phone rang, interrupting me.

Clay reached over and answered, and his side of the conversation was made up of mostly grunts and “uh-huhs” and finally a “see you in a minute.”

“Who was that?”

Clay looked at me, face studiously blank. “You have a delivery at the front desk. Are you expecting anything?”

The skin on the back of my neck crawled, and I shook my head slightly in the negative. I was back to what was becoming my standby line: “No one knows I’m here.”

“Obviously
someone
knows.” Clay pulled a Walther PPK semi-automatic handgun out of the waistband of his jeans and checked the chamber. “It’s loaded,” he said, handing the gun over butt first. “Don’t hesitate to shoot if anyone other than me comes through that door.”

I had a flashback to my time in the fae’s sithen when Bahlin had offered almost the exact same advice. My lips twitched with a smile. “Aye, aye,” I said, giving him the same answer he’d given me.

“Smart ass,” he mumbled, turning away, but not before I caught the grin on his face.

Clay’s departure marked the first time I’d truly been alone in days, bathroom breaks notwithstanding. I closed my eyes and reveled in the small sounds that infect silence so gently it’s never really truly quiet: the drip of the faucet, the clicking of the thermostat, the hum of the heater, the distant sounds of traffic, the murmur of voices in the hallway. None of the sounds was threatening, and they kept me from feeling lonely.

My traitorous mind shifted back to Bahlin. I was both angry and hurt. The distance between us seemed self-explanatory now, and I felt incredibly foolish for not having seen it earlier. I didn’t know how to help him heal, and it felt like our disconnect could become a permanent thing if I pushed him at all. I hated feeling so ineffectual.

The electronic lock
hummed,
and I shifted slightly so the gun was hidden in the bedding, only to relax after Clay called out. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when he walked around the corner carrying what had to be two dozen red roses in a cut crystal vase.

“You weren’t expecting these?” he asked skeptically.

“I have no idea who they’re from, so there’s no way I could have expected them, Clay.”

He set the vase down on the dresser and pulled the card out from the small holder nestled deep in the arrangement. He looked at it carefully before walking it over to me.

I took it from him and opened the sealed envelope, carefully extracting the card. The little I’d learned of magic had made me leery of such unexpected events. A lock of hair fell out of the envelope. I lifted it and thought with a sickening feeling that it was the same color as my own hair. The card read:

My dearest Maddy,

A typical mundane’s casket blanket has 144 roses. Here are your first 24. Be sure to lock your windows, love. You’re beautiful when you sleep.

I dropped the card and began feeling all over my head. It only took a second to find the small area at my temple where my hair was shorter than normal. He’d cut my hair as I slept.
Holy shit.

Clay watched me carefully, taking in the signs of panic undoubtedly crossing my face. “Want to tell me who sent the flowers?”

I held the card out to him with a steady hand. Bully for me. I leaned back against the pillows and shut my eyes, my breath raspy and my heart tripping double-time in my chest.

Clay read the card and grasped my chin, turning it to look at the small area of shorn hair. Letting out a low string of curses, he dropped the card on the bed and grabbed the hair from my open palm. He sniffed it, eyes closed, before turning to put it in the discarded envelope.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you and Bahlin, but I have to call him, Maddy.”

“No!”

“Yes. No discussion.”

“Screw you, cinder breath. I’m not dragging him into this just because you feel the need to play pigeon. No.”

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began dialing. “If you can stop me, crip, bring it on. Otherwise? Sit back and shut up.”

What the hell had happened to my mild-mannered nurse?

“Listen, you sorry son of a—”

“Bahlin? We’ve got a situation.” He turned away from my squinty-eyed glare and listened to the response. I could hear yelling. “No, man, I know I shouldn’t have let her weasel me into taking her out.” More yelling. “We’re at your hotel—” Silence. Clay flipped his phone shut and turned to me, eyes flashing that otherworldly blue. “If you get my ass kicked over this, woman, you and I are going to have problems.”

I just laughed. “What are you going to do to me that hasn’t already been done in the last three weeks?”

He grimaced.

“Come on, Clay. You like me and you know it.”

He shrugged. “So? That’s not news. This,” he said, waving a hand toward the flowers, “is. He’s pissed, Maddy.”

I was certain it would only get worse when he saw the card and the flowers. And the shorn lock of hair? I didn’t even want to think about it. But no matter how angry Bahlin was, I didn’t think he’d wish death on me. That was a little extreme. “He’ll get over it,” I said, distance between me and the enraged dragon enhancing my bravery.

“Tough talk for someone who can’t take a piss on her own.” He smirked, and I flipped him off.

Asshat.
What’s worse was he was right.

Bahlin showed up a half hour later, the door slamming open without warning. I jumped and groaned at the pain brought on by the reactionary movement. Clay flew to his feet ready to defend me until he figured out who it was. Then I was on my own.

“Glaaca,” he said, making a slight bow. “Should I stay?”

“Wait in the hall, Clay,” Bahlin growled, his voice deeper than normal. This was more life than he’d shown since the big fight.

Clay went outside and pulled the door shut behind him with a decided
click
as the latch and lock reset.

“What’s the meaning of you leaving the apartment?” Bahlin demanded, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing back and forth at the end of the bed. The flowers on the dresser stood like a bright red beacon, and he stopped in front of them, brow furrowed as he took them in.

I chewed over the words to say, to explain why I’d left, but he took my silence as something else entirely.

“You’ve no answer for me, Maddy? All right then. Care to tell me who’s sending you flowers?”

I sighed, hand slipping to cradle my side at the discomfort. “It’s not what it looks like, Bahlin. I left because, well, I thought it might make it easier.”

“Easier to what?” He gestured at the flowers and shook his head, a miserable smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Move on?”