Wrath: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 2

by Denise Tompkins

  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?”

  “Move on,” I repeated stupidly. “Look, Bay—” He never gave me a chance to finish my thought.

  “So you’ll admit this—leaving the apartment, the flowers—is about moving on.” He turned to glare at me. “With all that’s happened, this is probably for the best.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “With all that’s happened what’s for the best?” I croaked out, confusion settling over me like a veil.

  “Seeing as it’s obvious you aren’t clear on how you feel about me, and now I’m in a similar situation after all that’s happened, I think it’s best that we call off the engagement.” He looked pained but resolute. He turned and stalked toward the door. “It’s over, Maddy.”

  I just sat there for a long moment. Huh? “Bahlin, wait.” The implication of his words sank in slowly. I tried to stand and just barely made it, but I couldn’t get my bearings to go after him, to force him to listen to me. “Don’t leave me alone!” I yelled, ignoring the pleading in my voice.

  He never slowed down and he never looked back. Yanking the door open, he said something to Clay before disappearing.

  The other dragon hadn’t even made it back inside the room before my scream of frustration tore through the air. Grabbing for the bed, I pulled the covers to the floor as I collapsed. I lay there, the nylon carpet rejecting my tears so they formed a small pool at my temple. Clay tried to get me up off the floor, but I swung out at him, clipping his jaw.

  “Leave,” I croaked, gathering the fallen sheet below my chin. “Just leave.”

  He backed out through the bedroom doors, pulling them closed behind him. As they were about to latch he said, “I’ll be right here, Maddy. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I lay there for hours, unaware of anything but those small sounds of silence which were no longer comforting but instead were just ambient noise. I counted the stripes on the bed skirt, let my fingers trace the knobby hem of the sheet and contemplated the presence of dust bunnies under the bed. I tried to think of anything except Bahlin. Sadly I wasn’t even remotely successful. Despite my initial distrust of fairytales and the concept of one true love, Bahlin had spent all of our time together coercing me into believing in happily-ever-after despite life’s long odds and the damnable prophecy. But his efforts appeared to have been pointless. It was ironic that, for all he espoused believing in us, he was the one to walk away from the commitment.

  Maybe you were you just in love with the idea of being in love, Niteclif. Otherwise how could you claim to truly love each other and then both accept it’s over so easily? There were no easy answers.

  I pulled more covers off the bed and burrowed into them there on the floor, propping my head on my folded arm. There was no noise from the living area but I suspected Clay was still there. He’d only pulled the French doors shut to let me have a private rage then cry. He was a good man and an even better friend.

  The sun had begun to set before he opened the doors and came in with more pain medication. I shook my head, but he continued toward me.

  “You’ve got to take it, Maddy.” He held the bottle out like a shield.

  “No one’s paying you anymore, so you don’t have to stay,” I croaked, my throat raw.

  “This isn’t about payment, sweets. It’s about right and wrong. You need someone with you right now.” Setting the bottle on the bedside table, Clay gently scooped me up, covers and all, and deposited me back on the bed.

  I pushed myself to sitting, and Clay adjusted the multitude of pillows behind my back.

  “But, Clay—”

  “If it bothers you that badly, I’ll tell you Bahlin’s still paying me.”

  “What? Why? I don’t need his pity,” I snapped, my eyes daring him to argue with me.

  “It’s nothing to do with pity, Maddy. It’s because you’re the Niteclif.”

  Okay. That was an infallible argument. “Oh yeah. The High Council.” It figured it wasn’t personal. This was business. Had the whole relationship been a farce? Just business?

  He got what he wanted from you, Niteclif—power. What did you get?

  Clay interrupted my thought process just before it got really ugly. “Look, Maddy, if you repeat what I’m about to say, I’ll deny it then fry you like a crisp first opportunity I get.” He stared me down and I nodded slowly. “Bahlin loves you, and he’s made a huge mistake today. I think he believes that by punishing himself he’s atoning for, particularly, the sin of patricide.”

  “That makes no sense. He’d challenged his dad for the position of Glaaca and would have killed him anyway.”

  “Not necessarily.” Clay handed me the bottle and, without thinking, I took a swig, grimacing at the sickly sweet, artificial cherry flavor of the syrup. “He could have let his dad live and just forced him out of the weyr. Winner’s choice.”

  “Wouldn’t that have been just as bad?”

  “Sure, but it allows room for reconciliation, doesn’t it? He could have, probably would have, reintroduced his da to the weyr at some point. Whereas death is just death, and there’s no undoing it.” Clay sighed, set the bottle on the nightstand and motioned for me to scoot over.

  I did, curious, and could only gape at him when he stripped to his plaid boxers and slid under the covers with me.

  “Don’t look so shocked, Maddy. I’m tired, this is the only bed, and I’m not leaving you alone any more than I’m sleeping in my jeans. I promise you, though, that I’ll keep my hands to myself. You look a bit, uh, haggard today.” He snuggled down under the covers and closed his eyes.

  The pull of the narcotics was stronger than my disbelief at Clay’s actions, so I lay down beside him and turned on my side, giving him my back.

  “Rest well, Maddy,” he said softly just as I felt him begin to gently stroke my head.

  Sleep pulled me under so quickly there wasn’t time to answer.

  I woke up comfortably warm. The sunlight shone softly through the window, a kaleidoscope of rainbow patterns shining through the cut glass of the French doors. I could see small patches of blue sky beyond the curtains that had remained open through the night. Realizing I’d slept all night, I did a mental celebratory shimmy. I snuggled under the covers, and a strong arm tightened around me.

  Bahlin.

  But he didn’t smell right.

  Uh oh. Not Bahlin.

  I rolled my eyes up and found Clay still sleeping. At some point we’d wound ourselves together like lovers. I put my hand on his ribs and pushed back a little, and he slowly opened his soft brown eyes, looking down at me. He closed the distance I’d created and dipped his head in one swift motion. Our lips met, his soft and persistent as they moved slowly back and forth over mine, coaxing. He nipped at my lower lip and I pulled farther back, confused but not angry.

  What the hell was it with me? I’d spent my entire life in relative anonymity but once I entered the supernatural world, everyone wanted a piece? Gaah.

  “Clay, you need to back off, buddy,” I murmured into his lips. He didn’t stop. “I mean it, Clay.”

  He tilted his head back, his dark eyes assessing my intent.

  “Don’t try me on this, Clay. Move back. Now.”

  I could tell the moment Clay fully came awake and realized what he’d been doing because surprise darted across his face like a fast-moving comet. He’d started to move away when he was ripped out of bed, arms and legs flailing for purchase.

  “The lady said to move the fuck back,” Hellion said, throwing Clay to the floor. Hellion stood beside the bed, his face
mottled with rage, his flat black eyes like unpolished chips of obsidian beneath sculpted brows. This ruggedly handsome face had scared me shitless more than once, and today was sadly no different. He was still huge, still well muscled and still scary, but somehow with his rage turned on someone else he seemed less menacing despite the two-dozen roses decorating my dresser. What settled uncomfortably over me was that same inexplicable feeling of familiarity I had every time I looked at him.

  “Wait. You openly threaten me less than a month ago and you’re here to kill me, but you’re going to protect my honor before acting on that threat?” Disbelief colored my tone. The only weapon I had at hand was sarcasm, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to wield it. Of course, swinging it about with wild abandon probably wasn’t wise.

  Clay jumped up, his eyes flashing as he turned to face Hellion. He leaned forward on the balls of his feet, muscles trembling and fists clenched, his fury tightly—but barely—controlled. “Leave the woman alone,” he hissed, his voice guttural and deep.

  Hellion wandered casually over to the flowers, effectively putting distance between himself and Clay before dismissing the younger man. “You won’t shift in the room. It’s too small to contain your dragon form. And you can’t take me hand-to-hand, no matter what you think, so stand down, boy.” Clay glowered as Hellion turned to me. “Actually, I came to see if the news reports were true and our newest Niteclif was, indeed, dead by near decapitation.” He let his eyes roam over me with open insolence. “Obviously, the newsmen have reported in haste. At least you’re alive to enjoy your gift. Do you like them?” He reached out with his massive hand and snatched up a rose, crushing it and letting the destroyed petals fall to the floor before turning to me for my answer.

  “Frankly? It’s damned creepy. Look, is there something I can do for you? You had the perfect opportunity to kill both of us but you didn’t. Why are you here?” I challenged. Okay, it was admittedly more like I asked him firmly. After all, it’s hard to really challenge anyone while you’re so bruised you look like an eggplant and you’re sitting in bed wearing nothing more than a T-shirt and underwear.