Chapter Twenty-One
I woke to the sound of a shower turning off. It took me a moment to remember the happenings of last night, or even where I was. Perhaps that was because I was no longer where I had fallen asleep. I now rested on the edge of Nik's large bed, his thick covers draped over my body. The door to the bathroom opened, bathing me in warm light and revealing Nikolai wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His face darkened with the heat of a blush. I'd never seen him get embarrassed before.
“Um… sorry… I thought you were still asleep and I forgot to grab a change of clothing.” He headed to the dresser, limping slightly. He grabbed a pair of boxers and jeans before returning to the bathroom. I didn't know how to respond to his chagrin.
The images of last night's attack came back in vivid color, distracting me from the man in the bathroom. I remembered it all: the feeling of satisfaction as I drove the table leg into my attacker's chest—I was astonishingly happy that he had been attacking me before I killed him—the fear when I saw my friends hurt after fighting for me, and the relief when it was all over. A moment later, Nik returned with the clothing on, but I took no notice of him; I was too deep in thought.
“Something on your mind?” he asked, sitting on the foot of the bed.
“How in the world did we survive that?”
Nik smirked. “You were a cunning warrior.”
“Ha! Don't lie to me. I flailed around. It took me three tries to get his heart.”
“All right, not exactly cunning, but lucky.”
I smiled. “Yes, very lucky.”
“It helped that he had orders to take you alive. He couldn't inflict much damage or he would have been killed by Richard. Wrangling a vamp is harder than killing one, so that gave you an advantage. And once Isaac saw that he had two of you to face—one of which he wasn't allowed to hurt—he bowed out, leaving Richard alone. This, of course, caused him to run. No doubt Isaac heard an earful about that.”
I smiled at the thought. “Lucky,” I repeated before climbing out of the large bed. I glanced at the place on the floor where I remembered falling asleep.
“I moved you when I woke up. You could have joined me on the bed. I wouldn't have noticed.”
I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and wondered why I was so embarrassed. It's not like Nik would have been up to trying anything. Nevertheless, the idea of sharing a bed with him made my stomach give a little flip.
“Bathroom’s all yours. I'll get you something else to wear,” Nik said in what appeared to be an effort to change the subject. I was grateful.
I could only imagine what he might have that would fit me. Apparently nothing. Nik produced a pair of basketball shorts—with a drawstring—and a T-shirt he considered too small. I grimaced but willingly took the clothing. It was better than my blood-stained outfit.
After showering and dressing, I found the men sitting on the couches drinking their breakfast. They had already cleared away the rubble from the fight and cleaned up the dried blood. The only signs that there had been a fight were the two holes in the drywall and the lack of a kitchen table. I joined them on the couch and took the blood bag offered me while trying not to stare at the livid scar on Josh’s throat—the only remaining scar on his once battered body. His face was bright with excitement.
“So what's the plan?” Josh asked as he tossed his bloody bag onto the coffee table.
“Well,” Nik began as he gathered up Josh’s bag before it could leak onto the rich wood. I noticed the faint shadow of a small shoe print on the table where I had stood. “We can either go digging into Ashley's past or we can go after the loot.”
“Ooh, choices, choices, choices,” I said, my sarcasm firmly back in place. To my surprise, they both laughed. For some reason, despite the epic battle we'd waged yesterday morning, the numerous somber discussions, and me trying to commit suicide; everyone's mood was lifted to an almost euphoric level. I glanced at both of them. “Let's deal with the treasure hunt. I don't really fancy a deep inspection into my backstory. But, at some point soon, could one of you teach me some basic fighting skills. I'm sensing it might be worthwhile… all things considered.”
“How ‘bout you just stay out of the fights, eh, light weight?” Nik suggested as he pinched the toes on the barefoot I had resting on his coffee table.
“How ‘bout you keep us from getting into fights, and I won’t need the skills to defend myself,” I countered, ignoring the fact that it was really my fault. I stood up, not wanting him in a position to mess with my feet again.
“Are you saying yesterday’s fight was my fault?”
Dammit, that’s not what I had meant, but I didn’t want to admit it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Josh slip away.
“And if I am?” I asked to give myself more time to think. “The facts are one, we do battle.” I ticked it off on my finger. “Two, you can’t always protect me.”
“I can certainly try.”
I felt a sense of relief. I had diverted him from my own stupid mouth and the things that come out of it.
“But that’s not the point. You think there is something I could have done to keep that fight from happening.” It wasn’t a question.
Double dammit. I hadn’t distracted him as well as I had thought. My frustration with the situation was keeping me from thinking clearly. The smart thing to do would have been to apologize and drop the subject. I’m not always smart.
“Yes!” I roared. “Couldn’t you have just shut the door in his face or something? Josh got really hurt.”
“Oh… so you’re worried about Josh now, eh?”
“Yeah. He’s younger than you. He doesn’t heal as fast.”
“Don’t repeat to me the things I’ve taught you.”
“Then act like you know it!”
“There was nothing I could have done to stop the fight,” he snarled through his teeth.
“Whatever,” I growled back. “Now, are you going to teach me how to fight?”
Nik didn’t even take a moment to think; he simply swung and punched me in the face. The blow flattened me. I landed on my back, the breath completely knocked out of my chest from the hard landing. My eyes blinked of their own accord, chasing away the tears that had sprouted.
“Here endeth the lesson,” said Nik in a surprisingly accurate imitation of Sean Connery.
I blinked again, too shocked to respond quickly. “Seriously?” I finally snapped, my voice coming back in full force.
Nik nodded.
“Real helpful, jackass.”
Evidently, my voice carried. I heard Josh's door open as I climbed to my feet. I glared at him as he sipped on another blood bag.
“He pull ‘The Untouchables’ on you?”
I nodded but stopped when a drunk percussionist took up residence behind the shiner quickly forming around my eye.
“Next time you won't let me hit you,” grumbled Nik.
I was about to take a swing at him myself when Josh changed the subject.
“So, now that the lesson is clearly over, are we going to get moving?”
“Could we stop by my place?” I asked as I straightened the oversized T-shirt I was wearing.
On the way to my apartment, Nik dropped Josh off at Bayview Thriftway.
“You know what to get.” Josh nodded. We zoomed away. As we neared the street, I spotted the last thing I ever wanted to see. Chloe and Jordan were in the parking lot, leaning against his car and flirting. I felt a hefty twinge of pain and regret. I'd never gone this long without seeing or talking to them. When was the last time I'd seen them? Tuesday night? Maybe it hadn't been that long, but it felt like a lifetime.
Would they want to see me now, now that I was a murderer?
Thankfully, Nik drove quickly and they didn't notice me staring at them. Though I missed them, I didn't want to talk to them. Not until I knew they would be safe in my company. It was a strange feeling—wanting yet dreading. I tried to picture our reunion and the image wasn�
�t reassuring. Despite my best effort, the image always ended in blood and death.
Was this to be my life from now on? No. I wouldn't let that happen.
We arrived at my house and sped up the stairs. Nik went straight to the desk chair and sat down. I wondered if his ankle was bothering him still. Muffler flicked his tail at me and moved to Nik's lap. I dumped a fresh mound of food into his half empty bowl, hoping to make up for my absence.
“How nice of you to visit,” the cat murmured.
“I'm sorry, Muffler.”
I walked over to where Nik was sitting and started to stroke the gray cat. Muffler allowed me three strokes before moving to the desk, just out of my reach. I'd been rejected by my own cat—a new low. With a sigh, I moved to my dresser and pulled out one of the last clean T-shirts. Pretty soon I was going to have to tell the mystical world to take a day off. I needed to do laundry.
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