Chapter 14
Punch Her Stupid Mouth
“Amelia?” Karson’s voice was soft. “Are you well?”
I gasped in a breath, blinking to see the entire room staring at me.
“I …” I tried to speak, but my chest was clogged in the memory I’d buried.
“Where did you go?” Karson asked.
He was sitting next to me, the scent of honey and cinnamon filling my nose.
I wanted to lean in, rest my head on his chest, have him hold me and whisper that everything would be alright.
But the way he’d leapt away from me earlier tugged in my chest and I didn’t risk moving.
I was breathing quite well now at least, if panting was considered effective breathing.
I took a deep breath to slow my heart rate and swallowed.
I didn’t want to tell them all about that night, a night so personal, so racked with grief and guilt.
Didn’t want to be seen as weak, broken. Not in front of Monique; she’d revel in my distress.
Then I’d have to punch her in her stupid mouth.
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Somewhere I didn’t want to be.”
Karson and Mary exchanged a concerned gaze. “Sarah?’ Karson asked gently.
I forced a smile and lied. “She’s the gift that just keeps on giving, but it’s alright because I won.”
“If Ethan and Karson hadn’t turned up, you’d be dead. I don’t call that winning,” Monique quipped.
Anger burbled through the despair. “Tell me, Monique, where were you again?” It’s a low blow, one I regretted the moment it fell out of my mouth, and it struck hard.
Michael grimaced, not at my words so much but in anticipation of Monique’s response.
Monique’s dark eyes grew colder than a lake at night. “Had you not made the car stop, had you fucking listened to me, we wouldn’t have been in that circumstance in the first place.”
“How was I to know Sarah would stage a car accident?”
“Had you both listened,” Karson responded in a low growl, “neither of you would have been in danger.”
“She said it herself,” I replied. “She was going to come to the house. She would have found a way to get to us regardless.”
“What is done, is done,” Mary said, collecting my dirty plate. “There’s no point arguing about it all. The focus right now needs to be rest for you all to recover, so if she is stupid enough to come to Portland, you’re all ready for her.”
“We should be working as a team,” Michael agreed. “Not arguing over a past we cannot change. That serves no purpose but to distract us from our present circumstances.”
“Good for you, Brene Brown.” Josh stepped aside as Mary passed him through the door, his dimple flashing as he gave a crooked grin. Rain dripped down the black raincoat he wore. “I can see you with your own television show.”
“Josh.” Karson’s voice switched to annoyance. “Why are you sneaking around, and what is it you want?”
“I’m not sneaking. I jumped through the top window, spoke to Georgie briefly, and walked down the stairs like the normal person I no longer am.”
I stifled a chuckle. Karson’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look amused, though I guess being stabbed and exhausted made humor take a back seat.
“I wanted to ask if you needed everyone tonight. The troops are wet, a little cranky, and if you’re staying home, we figured we might as well get some rest.”
“I think that’s a solid idea,” Michael answered before Karson could deny him. “Everyone is a little on edge right now. A night off is well warranted.”
To my surprise, Karson didn’t argue. “Fine, leave three to scan the wooded area as a precaution, and the rest can go.”
Relief lit Josh’s eyes. “Who do you want to stay?”
Karson sighed with a mix of frustration and annoyance. “I don’t care. Draw straws, play rock, paper, scissors, for all it matters to me.”
“Perhaps whoever stays tonight can have the next two nights off instead,” Michael suggested when he took in the reluctance on Josh’s face to tell the vampires three had to stay.
“Great idea, and to choose who stays, maybe we could play bullseye with knives or—”
“Joshua, leave before I change my mind,” Karson snapped.
“Right, sorry.” He gave a salute.
“Tell me why you changed that boy?” Monique asked, scowling at his retreating back. “If you needed warriors, he is not it.”
Karson leaned back and spread his arm on the couch behind me. “I have my reasons.”
“Yes.” Monique rose. “And some of them are stupid.” Her eyes hooked on me for a second.
“The moment I let you lecture me about stupid choices, Monique, is the moment I can no longer draw air,” Karson responded dismissively. “Now I suggest you feed and get some sleep before I change my mind about letting you stay home as well.”
Monique’s eyes glinted with annoyance, before she too saluted him and she left the room.
“I think I too shall rest for a few hours before I go out.” Michael stood, stretching his shoulders back. “Good night.”
“How many vampires do you have out there usually at night?” I asked when it was just the two of us alone.
“A dozen or so.” His thumb brushed my shoulder, sending a fluttery warmth through my veins.
A dozen seemed like a lot and somehow not enough against Sarah.
“I highly doubt Sarah would be stupid enough to try to harm you again now that her diabolical plan has failed. My guess is she’s somewhere far away, wondering how to get herself out of the mess she’s in. ”
“Then why the guards, why keep us here?”
“Because Sarah may very well be intelligent, but never underestimate the power anger and revenge can have over common sense.”
“We can’t be stuck in this house forever, Karson.”
He was up and striding over to the whiskey cabinet and pouring himself a drink, before I even noticed he’d risen. The space his touch left felt empty, cold.
“It won’t be forever, Amelia.” He spoke over his shoulder. “I just need you to trust me and have a little more patience.”
He had been alive way longer than I had, and he was skilled in the art of war, in the art of vampires. I knew very little outside of what I had witnessed, and I did trust him.
“It’ll be tough being stuck here with you, but I’ll try.”
His lips curved up in the corners as he moved to stand in front of the warm glow of the fireplace. Even deathly pale, even with dark rims under his eyes, he was striking. “Patience is not one of your strongest points.”
“That makes two of us.”
His smile lit up the room, and yet my heart felt as if it were gasping for his love.
Did he mean it when he told me he loved me?
It was an easy lie when someone was taking their last breath.
I knew what I wanted, his face to be the last thing I saw every night and the first thing I saw every morning.
My fingers wanted to thread through his hair, to pull him flush against me.
My lips wanted to taste his. My body wanted to shelter against his warmth.
It seemed utterly cruel to need someone so badly, and he was standing so close and yet all I could do was stare.
I picked at a chip in my painted nails. “Why do you care about me?”
He blinked as if the question had caught him off guard, and he hesitated to respond. I could see him churning it over in his head—almost as if he didn’t know himself. Almost as if he didn’t care.
“Or if not,” I hated how weak, how desperate I sounded, “why are you keeping me safe?”
His brow flickered. “Where is this coming from?”
He had more important issues, I couldn’t be a priority for him. I knew that, but still, all the broken pieces left behind by everyone who should care and didn’t scraped against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
He studied my face, and I felt a tingle against my scalp and deeper to my brain. He was trying to read my mind. I stood up and paced to the window, staring at my reflection bouncing against the pane, pale, ghost like.
“I don’t know, maybe because my world is a little fucked up right now, Georgie is tense around me, Monique hates me, and the man who told me he …
” I swallowed, unable to bring myself to say loved, “cared about me, hasn’t touched me since that night, and he also despises witches, and I’m just wondering why he cares if I die or not.
” I took a deep, shuddering breath and turned back to face him.
He was silent for a long moment, his eyes warm and steady and confused. “I care because you are important to me.”
“Because I’m one of the witches prophesied to help save the waters?” I didn’t know why I kept pushing to find out how he felt. Because the answer could destroy me. Maybe because a brutal, fast heartbreak was better than the torture of the slow death of hope.
“No.” His gaze darkened to something ravaged, angry. “You will not be putting yourself in danger.”
I didn’t want to fight to protect the waters either. I didn’t want to kill anyone. The thought of stepping into battle made me feel sick.
But I lifted my chin. “It’s my purpose.”
“I know you heard the conversation I had with Caron. Your purpose is what you choose it to be, not what a bunch a haggard broom-riding witches tell you it is.” He threw back his whiskey and placed the empty glass on the mantle.
“I don’t think they ride brooms. It would be impractical lugging them around.” My attempt at humor fell flat. Normally his eyes would sparkle, or his lips would curve a little in the corner; everything was taking a toll on him. Instead, I saw exhaustion, I saw anger, and I saw guilt.
“None of this is your fault, you know,” I said gently.
His jaw tightened as he dragged his eyes—his tormented eyes—away, and didn’t respond.