Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Warwick slammed the lid back down when a knock tapped on the door. Killian and Sloane reached for their weapons.
“Calm the fuck down.” Warwick strode to the door, opening it up to a redheaded girl on the other side.
“Rosie!” At the sight of my friend, I ran for the door, crashing into her.
She chuckled as she tried to hug me with all the stuff she was holding.
“Oh, luv. I’m so glad you are back and safe.
” She squeezed me. Both of us pulled back, smiling at each other.
“He has been absolutely dreadful since he returned here after Samhain.” Her blue eyes darted to the man in question.
“Seriously, he’s no longer allowed here without you. So good to see you.”
Warwick huffed and grumbled something under his breath, strolling back to the bar and pouring more into my glass before downing it.
“Good to see you too.” I took some of the items she was carrying, moving out of her way. She strolled in, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Killian’s head jerk, pulling my attention.
He watched her intently, his brows furrowing.
Rosie set down the food, her eyes sliding to him, aware of his stare.
“Madam thought you would need clothes and food, but let me know if there is anything else I can get you,” she said. Her eyes kept darting to Killian as he continued to stare boldly at her.
Rosie was stunning, the perfect mix of softness, beauty, and wit, but his look wasn’t of lust, but one of perplexity.
“This is more than kind. Thank you,” I responded, an awkwardness winding through the room.
She smiled, about to turn for the door.
“I know you from somewhere.” Killian’s voice stopped her.
“Pardon?” I could see her gaze comb over him, wondering if he had ever been a customer, but we all knew, no matter how many men she had been with, you would never forget him. Ever. Killian left his mark.
“Yes.” His mouth parted with disbelief. “You are Nina Petrov.”
Rosie lurched at her name, her breath stuttering, her eyes widening.
“You were that young leading actress.” Killian shook his head, making the connection. “I used to go to many performances at the theater before they shut down.”
Rosie’s head lifted, trying to hide her emotions, but even I could see her stumbling, trying to find solid ground as once again her old life and new life collided together.
“Well.” Her fake British accent thickened. “I hope you enjoyed them.”
Killian snorted. “No, they were awful. Merely a bunch of preening, flouncing, overacting performances. But they made me laugh.”
“They were dramas,” she muttered, low and controlled.
“There was a difference?”
Her entire body jolted, inhaling as if he kicked her in the stomach. Her lids narrowed on him, fire raging behind her eyes.
“It’s a good thing I can still use those overacting techniques now in my work.
” She cleared her throat, not bowing down to the fae lord.
“Something you clearly have a lot of personal experience with, my lord.” She dipped into a curtsy, then whisked around and stomped out the door, leaving all of us with our mouths open.
Did she just outright insult the fae lord?
Killian’s tan skin turned a deeper color, his physique vibrating with anger, his jaw locking.
He took a step, appearing he was about to fly through the door after her.
No matter if they were fae or human, you cut a man below the belt, suggesting they couldn’t please a woman, and they went ballistic.
But you slight a fae lord, that was a whole other level of brazen.
Possibly stupid and deadly.
“Killian.” I stepped in his path, blocking him, his rage still on the door where she exited. “Leave it.”
He rolled his jaw, his eyes finally lowering to mine, seething. “No one, especially a human whore, talks to me like that.”
My hands pushed on his chest, my threat clear. “You touch her, and you deal with me.”
“And what can you do, Brexley?” He sneered down his nose at me, my name plunging through me, forcing me to suck in. “You can’t stop me. You can’t do anything anymore. Your power is gone. The nectar is useless.”
“Whoa, back the hell up.” Ash started to come for Killian, but Warwick beat him to it.
With a roar, Kilian’s body flew back into the sofa, his body tumbling over it into a side table, cracking his head against it.
In a blink, chaos erupted.
Killian leapt to his feet, charging into Warwick, both of them falling into the sea of blankets and mattresses, kicking and punching like two kids on the playground. Ash dove for Sloane, their fists cracking against each other.
I rubbed at my head with a heavy sigh. Another version of this might have been hot, a bunch of hunky men rolling around together, but all I saw were egos and tantrums.
“Stop.” I folded my arms, yelling. No one heard me or took notice. Walking to the far wall, I pulled off an item from a hook, twisting around to the fighting men. The sound of the whip cracked in the air like a gun, halting them.
“I. SAID. STOP!” The demand echoed through the silent room as I cracked the whip again.
Each head turned to me, bloody, bruised, and blinking at me with a strange, stunned expression.
“Stop acting like children and be the ruthless fae you’re supposed to be.
Our world is on the cusp of collapse. Istvan is beating us at our own game, and right now, all you guys can do is fight each other, doing exactly what he wants.
“Sarkis is weak. The fae are kingless and unsteady, while HDF has been gaining power and alliances all over the eastern bloc. He is distributing weapons and perfecting the fae pills for a full takeover. Ash and I have seen their progress. And it’s much further along than anyone anticipated.
And could you imagine what would happen if he got his hands on the nectar?
” I gestured to the box, taking a deep breath.
“We are exhausted right now. How about we get some rest, and tomorrow we start making a plan to fight back before we lose everything.” I glared at each one. “Do you understand me?”
They stared.
“I asked, Do. You. Understand. Me?”
“Yes.” They all muttered under their breaths like sullen teenagers.
Warwick shoved off Killian, fury riding his shoulders as he stalked to the bar. He downed a huge portion of the bottle, not even bothering with the glass. Ash joined him. Slowly, Sloane and Killian followed, grabbing other bottles of alcohol.
My lids shut briefly as I set down the crop, my bones feeling the toll of the night. My stomach was empty, but the alcohol edged off the hunger. I needed a bath to wash all the dried blood off my body. Most of it was not my own.
Grabbing a few items Rosie brought in, I headed to the bathroom.
It was nothing special, a sink, toilet, and bathtub, though the tub was big enough to fit several people in it.
I didn’t even want to think about what happened in here or what still stained the blankets on the beds.
I lost that level of decorum a long time ago.
Taking my time and allowing myself a moment of selfishness to soak and scrub my body and hair, I let myself drift for a moment in the quickly cooling water.
It was a prickle of my senses, a hum deep inside that was probably my training kicking in. The awareness I had of my surroundings.
I wasn’t alone.
My lids flew open, already sensing the silent figure leaning against the wall. His stormy eyes watched me intently, as if he could still trail them over my skin with his invisible touch.
Leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed, he must have been there for a while. His hair was loose around his face, and he had a cut under his eye, his jaw bruised.
Even without the fully powered wolf knocking around inside him, the man was feral and wild. A danger to any living thing.
Our eyes stayed on each other, words and emotions screaming through the silent room, but they didn’t soak in, didn’t graze my mind, nor touch my soul, though it still felt like he was there. A ghost haunting me. A phantom limb that was cut off, but I could still feel it.
His gaze raked down me, slow and deliberate, not caring how boldly his eyes took in my naked body. The tub was hard to fill because of its size, leaving the water well below my breasts.
Heat filled my veins, making my skin very aware of every patch his focus trailed over. He didn’t move. Hunting me silently, ready to sink his teeth in for the kill.
I was not prey. Not anymore.
Standing up, the water sluiced off my long, wet hair reaching my back, though nothing covered up my sex, my breasts, or my scars. It was all there for him to feast on. No inhibition or insecurity of my less than curvy frame. What I had been through, I owned, and I took it on as my armor.
Warwick’s nose flared, his eyes growing darker, but he still didn’t move or speak. His muscles flexed and coiled under his skin.
Anger. Death. Revenge. It was all this man understood. It was his religion. His conviction.
“Go away, Warwick.” I stepped out of the tub, reaching for the towel hanging next to him. “I don’t have the energy to deal with you.”
His hand shot up, wrapping around my wrist, stopping me from taking the towel. He breathed through his nose, running his tongue over his lips.
“Let go.” My glare leveled with his, my own rage spiking up my vertebrae.
He didn’t recede, a nerve dancing along his cheek.
“I said let go.” I ripped my arm from his grasp.
Grabbing the towel, I wrapped it around myself.
“You made yourself perfectly clear about what you wanted. You got it. I have nothing more to say to you.”
I opened the door, but his palm hit the wood, slamming it shut. His body moved close behind mine, so close I could feel the heat of him, his breath against the back of my neck, his arm over my head, making sure the door stayed shut. He enveloped me—drowning me in his presence.
“Move. Your. Hand,” I demanded, forcing every word through like a cheese grater.