“Perhaps.” Trish threw her a critical glare. “But you’ve always had to learn the hard way, haven’t you? You’ll see.”
“Do you realize how annoying it is when you do that?” Jacquelyn asked.
“Eat your soup,” Trish answered. “Then go find Micah.”
Jacquelyn yanked open the door to Micah’s motor home, deciding that making an entrance would be the best way to get across just how pissed off she was. But when she stepped up into the cramped space, her breath hitched in her chest.
She walked to the back of the vehicle, approaching Micah’s lifeless form with frightened caution. “Shit, Micah. What did you do?” She eased herself down next to him. Fingers at his throat, she searched for a pulse and her own skipped a beat until she found a slow, shallow rhythm. She relaxed, her body flooding with a rush of adrenaline, spurred by relief, and her fingers trembled against his clammy skin.
“Micah!” She shook him hard. “Micah! Get. Up. Now.”
A raspy moan escaped his mouth and his eyelids twitched. “Micah!” She gave his face a little slap. “Micah!” Again, a little harder. “Wake the hell up!”
One lid cracked and Micah stirred, scrubbing a hand over the stubble on his head. “Mrphm, wha—tmmm—is…”
“Jesus,” Jacquelyn breathed. “What the hell is wrong with you? Stealing Trish’s truck? Running off? Not good, dude.” She shoved at his broad shoulders, surprised at how difficult it was to move him. “Come on, Micah. We need to get you up and coherent.”
“Worried…” Micah spoke like his mouth was full of cotton. “I—dreammmm,” his voice trailed off lazily. “Went to your house and… just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Fuck my life. Not that she’d ever give credence to any of Trish’s propaganda, but—Perhaps Jacquelyn should have heeded Trish’s words. She’d often wondered why a territory only had one Waerd and one Bearer at a time. Trish had always told her that Bearers and Waerds were two halves of a whole. Did Micah feel like only half of a person? Incomplete and floating like flotsam tossed in an angry sea.
“It’s okay, Micah.” Jacquelyn leaned close to his face. The urge to reach out, to caress his cheek the way he had hers the first time they met, became almost unbearable and she tucked her hands between her legs. “It was only a dream. Look. I’m right here, and I’m fine. So there’s no need for you to worry. But we’ve got to get you up.”
“Uh-uh,” Micah murmured. “Just—want—sleep.”
“Sorry, buddy.” Jacquelyn straddled his lap. She took a steadying breath, ignored the heat seeping from his thighs through her jeans. “But that’s not going to happen.”
With her arms wrapped around his chest, she dug her knees into the mattress and pulled. “Come, on…” she groaned. “Sit—up!” He was solid, that was for sure. His muscular body much bulkier and harder to maneuver than she’d expected. Jacquelyn couldn’t help but congratulate herself for accomplishing the feat of lifting him to a sitting position. Not an easy task, moving dead weight. Especially when the guy had a foot and a half and a hundred pounds on her. “There!” she panted. “Baby steps, right?”
His eyes, slits of deep brown, met hers. Their noses were almost touching, they were so close. She felt his breath on her face and then the heat of his embrace as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. Jacquelyn stiffened, unsure and hyper aware of every muscle on his body.
“What time is it?” His voice was muffled by her skin and still slurring a little.
“Five.”
“In the morning?”
“No. Five in the evening.”
“Shit.”
Jacquelyn laughed. “Yeah.”
She stayed still, her palms cupping his solid shoulders, while his arms pinned her against him. It felt so natural, sitting like this in his lap, letting him hold her. She could sit like this for hours, just feeling the soft thrum of his heart against her chest. Micah knew. He’d seen Finn’s truck parked in her driveway in the middle of night. He wasn’t stupid, of course he’d assumed they’d slept together. She shouldn’t feel guilty or ashamed. Nothing had happened, and it’s not like she’d expressed to Micah that she had any sort of romantic interest in him. But shame blazed a bitter path through her gut just the same. Goddamned Finn and his games.
They sat for a moment longer and Jacquelyn remained still, enjoying the warm tickle of his breath against her skin. Her own eyes felt heavy and she closed them, only to feel him pull away.
“Sorry.” He swayed in her embrace. “I feel wrecked. Just need an anchor for a minute or two while I get my bearings. Is Trish pissed?”
“Not really.” Jacquelyn shrugged as she helped to steady him. “I’d say, more concerned than pissed.”
“She’s going to wish I hadn’t stuck around.” Micah relaxed, slowly pulling his arms from around her torso. The warmth of his presence fled, and Jacquelyn felt strangely empty and cold. She wanted to pull him back to her and fold him in her arms and legs. Jesus, get your shit together, Jax. “Do you have any water here?” She eased herself off of his lap. “You need to flush, big time.”
He pointed to the little fridge and Jacquelyn peered inside, grabbing three plastic bottles of water. She cracked the seal on one and handed it to him, tipping it up toward his mouth. “Drink. We need to get that shit out of your system.”
Micah guzzled the first bottle in a matter of seconds, not even pausing to take a breath. She took the empty bottle from his hand, replacing it with a new one and he sipped it this time. “I’m thirsty as hell.”
“I don’t doubt it. You’ve been out for—what—fifteen, sixteen hours?”
“At least,” he grumbled between swallows. “I feel like shit.”
“Good.” Jacquelyn shot him a disapproving glare as she rifled through the bed-side drawer. “You deserve it.”
She took five prescription bottles from the drawer and walked to the sink, checking the labels before setting them down. One by one, she unscrewed the caps, and without looking at Micah, dumped the contents of each bottle. Turning on the tap, she watched as the pills swirled in the water, dissolving and floating down the drain.
Jacquelyn turned to Micah and fixed a stern expression on her face. “You’re done with these, you got that? No trips to the clinic or the hospital, either. If I find out that you’re trying to get your hands on any more pills, I’m going to kick your ass. You hear me?”
Micah looked away, his mouth a hard line.
“I’m not kidding, Micah. You’re better than this. And I need you.”
His head jerked up, his expression said, Sure you do.
“Look,” Jacquelyn said with a sigh as she sat beside him. “I know you think you know what’s going on, but what you saw last night…”
“Was none of my business,” Micah interjected.
“I need your help finding these Furies,” Jacquelyn said, unwilling to delve into any details about her and Finn’s relationship right now, or why she didn’t trust him to have her back. “I’ve got to have you one-hundred percent. And that’s not going to happen if you’re high. Or knocked out. Your mind has to be crystal clear. Okay?”
Micah nodded and his expression softened.
“You scared the shit out of me, you know.” Jacquelyn left his side. She peeled the labels from the prescription bottles, folding them and shoving them in her pocket. She pitched the empty containers in the trash. “Don’t do it again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Micah said as he finished off water number two.
“Here.” She traded his empty for a full bottle.
“I’m going to be living in the bathroom for the rest of the night.” His eyes didn’t look so glassy and his voice no longer slurred.
“That’s the idea.” Jacquelyn pointed at the new bottle. “Now, hurry up and suck it down. I don’t want to be here all night.”
Chapter 24
MICAH SCOOTED OVER to the passenger seat of Trish’s truck while Jacquelyn parked her car in the garage. H
e wasn’t in any condition to be driving and was amazed he’d made it the short distance from the RV Park to Jacquelyn’s house. His head felt at least three sizes too big, and a steady pounding echoed in his ears. But Jacquelyn had refused him the comfort of even Tylenol, saying he’d had enough numbing for one day.
Back to Trish’s like a kid going to the babysitter’s. He couldn’t be left alone for a second. Great. Not that he didn’t deserve to be treated like a kid. He stole Trish’s truck, ran off in the middle of the night, and like a spoiled child, swallowed a bottle of pills when the girl he had a crush on had chosen another guy. It’s like he wasn’t an adult at all, but the star of some angsty teen drama.
Jacquelyn climbed in the Dodge and moved the seat up close to the steering wheel. “Ready?”
“Let’s go,” Micah said, leaning his seat back to a semi-reclining position. He closed his eyes, not interested in conversation. The tires hummed on the pavement and he focused on the sound, his head still fuzzy from the Ativan. He’d taken a few more pills than he’d thought, maybe five or six by his estimation, not to mention the two Trazadone. According to Jacquelyn, he was damn lucky to be upright and conscious and he believed her. What an idiot he’d been, but never again. She dumped every last pill down the drain and he was glad for it. He’d never be that guy again. He was done running away.
“What the hell…” Jacquelyn’s curiosity interrupted his thoughts. Micah brought his seat upright, staring out into the dark gray twilight.
A flash of white, almost too quick for his eyes to track, dashed across the road and into the trees. Jacquelyn slowed the truck and pulled into a turn-out on the side of the highway. “You don’t by any chance still have my .357, do you?”
“Under the seat,” Micah replied. “What was that?”
“Not sure, but I have a hunch. You up for a walk?”
“Yeah,” Micah said. “I am.” He stretched his neck from side to side, drew a cleansing breath to further clear the cobwebs from his mind. “I feel something.”
“I bet you do.” Jacquelyn fished under the driver’s seat, retrieving the .357 which she tucked in her waistband at her back. “Come on.”
Micah stepped down from the truck and pulled a black hoodie over his head. The nights had become considerably cooler in the passing days and a chill raced down his spine. The soft glow of moonlight could be seen creeping higher on the horizon. It filtered through the trees where Jacquelyn led the way, her gait cautious as she sidestepped bushes and fallen logs with ease. Micah couldn’t help but watch in awe. Jacquelyn negotiated the dark landscape like she had night vision goggles or some shit. She stopped as if to listen and held up her hand. Micah cocked his head, searching for any sound to indicate the location of their quarry. Through the stillness, Micah detected a strange warmth, like love blossoming in his chest. His jaw dropped and Jacquelyn quirked an inquisitive brow, mouthing the word, “Where?”
Micah pointed toward an embankment that dropped off into a tree-lined meadow. The sensation of joy intensified and he increased his speed, almost running toward the clearing. He’d never felt anything so pure. He took in their surroundings, the moon shining down on them like a giant spotlight. Trees, both pine and aspen lined the meadow, the wind rustling the leaves like bits of tissue paper. The scent of cool water wafted to his nostrils, further helping to clear his damned drug addled brain. There must have been a spring or a creek further down the tree line. Large and small shadows quivered in the moonlight, like frightened creatures. Though what anything should fear in the presence of such warm emotion was beyond his comprehension.
“Hey!” Jacquelyn hissed. “You never go running out into the open like that! We have no idea what’s out here.”
“It’s not bad,” Micah said with wonder, his narrow gaze scanning the trees. “There’s not a trace of evil in what I’m feeling right now.” He looked to the sky, laughter bubbling up through his throat. The sound echoed around them. “It’s amazing!”
A rustling in the brush to their left drew their attention, and Jacquelyn pulled the .357, sighting it toward the commotion. “Don’t move, Micah.”
He heard her, knew the warning inherent in her tone. But he could do nothing to stop his feet from moving. One step and then another, faster he walked toward the trees, blocking the path of Jacquelyn’s shot. He felt compelled to do so, to protect whatever creature lingered under cover, filling his soul with riotous joy. A smile tugged at his mouth as he suppressed another bout of laughter and he peered into the darkness.
“Shit.” Jacquelyn called from behind him. “Micah, move out of the fucking way!”
But he couldn’t. He clutched his chest, wishing he could spread the warm sensation to every tiny part of his body, rub it in. Roll in it. This was bliss.
“Micah.” Jacquelyn came up behind him, her breath labored. “What do you think—”
“Merry meet, hunter,” a lilting voice called out from the woods.
“Show yourself,” Jacquelyn said in response.
Micah stared into the trees, his jaw slack as a soft white orb meandered through the branches casting a silvery glow. His mother had told him stories of willo’ the wisps, shimmering balls of light, the embodiment of wandering spirits. The orb floated to the clearing and hovered just a few feet from Micah before exploding in a bright flash. He shielded his eyes and waited for the burst to subside, when it did he found himself face to face with a woman in a flowing white robe.
“I’d like to say, when it rains it pours, but this is a fucking deluge,” Jacquelyn griped.
Micah turned to Jacquelyn, his eyes slow to move from the mysterious woman. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, is there some sort of supernatural convention in town that I don’t know about? The entire county is crawling with supernatural squatters.”
But the woman before him swathed in white couldn’t possibly be one of them. Not when she made him feel so—good. “No, she’s something else.”
“Hardly,” Jacquelyn scoffed. “Our girl here is a Dryad. And you’d best watch your ass, Micah.”
Dryad? He wracked his brain, searching for a myth to go with the name. Micah turned back to the woman, and she pulled the cowl from her head. White hair in long flowing waves drifted on the breeze. Her pale skin reminded him of the smooth bark of a birch tree. And her eyes, electric blue and icy crinkled at the corners when she smiled at him.
“Shall I sing you a song, Bearer?” she asked in a voice as smooth as churned butter.
“Not if you want to keep your vocal chords,” Jacquelyn snapped.
“You’re no fun.” The Dryad stuck her tongue out like an errant child.
“A Dryad is a tree spirit, Micah.” Jacquelyn came to stand beside him. She held the .357 with intent, aiming it at the woman’s head. “She’ll use her pretty voice to tempt the soul right out of you if you let her.”
“Calm yourself, hunter.” The Dryad inched closer to Micah but he didn’t bother to move. The sense of euphoria intensified, stealing his breath and making him a bit dizzy. “I have no intention of taking your pet tonight. Though I must admit,” she ran a long white finger down the center of Micah’s chest, “that he is a tasty-looking morsel. Yum.”
Jacquelyn stepped between them and pushed Micah back. He took a couple of stumbling steps away but craned his neck to see around Jacquelyn’s shoulder. The Dryad flashed him a model-worthy smile and winked. “Mmm, I could have some fun with you.” Her voice was a sensual purr as she looked him up and down.
If he didn’t know any better, Micah would have sworn he was still lying in the bed of his RV, drugged out of his mind and dreaming. As if rays of moonlight shown down on her, an inner glow gave the Dryad the illusion of an angel come to earth. Her white robes and hair rode the wind currents, fanning out behind her like wings. “What’s your name?”
The Dryad’s laughter, like the sound of wind chimes, caused a ripple of pleasure to dance across his skin and Micah shuddered. “My name is not for you, Micah,
” she said.
Jacquelyn pivoted away from the Dryad’s appraising stare and grabbed Micah’s wrist with her free hand, giving his arm a hearty tug. With as much effort as it took to pluck a giant magnet from a refrigerator, he pulled his gaze from the Dryad and fixed Jacquelyn with an unfocused gaze. “Sorry,” he said. “Must be the Ativan still. I’m a little light headed or something.”
“It’s not you, Micah. It’s her.” Jacquelyn pushed into him, forcing him steadily away from the Dryad. “I need you to flex those emotional muscles of yours. You need to put a wall up, block her out so she can’t make you feel anything. Do you think you can do that for me?”
Whether or not he could seemed immaterial. Micah wasn’t sure he wanted to block her out. He hadn’t felt so good in months, years, maybe. His heart floated free inside his chest, and all of his worries evaporated under the Dryad’s heated stare. Jacquelyn nudged him, the slightest of movements, and he remembered what she’d told him about the untrustworthy nature of supernatural creatures. His trust had to lie in Jacquelyn, and, beautiful or not, this Dryad had her on edge.
Using every bit of concentration he could muster, he focused on keeping her out. Like a reverse funnel cloud, he pushed against whatever influence she’d snuck over him and instead sent his own emotional feelers outward toward her. He didn’t exactly sense malice in her. Rage and lust didn’t live within her the way it did in the Furies. But she had a singular purpose and he felt it from the Dryad in an icy wave: protection. She was there to keep watch over something and was willing to kill or worse to do it.
“What are you so threatened by?” Micah asked over the top of Jacquelyn’s head.
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