Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SERAFINA
“ W hat do you mean, he’s not answering?” Foster’s voice is sharp even as he rubs soothingly at my shoulder where I hover over V’s still form.
The big man’s frame takes up most of the bed we’ve laid him on at Xander’s place, and he’s so damn still that I keep leaning forward to ensure I can feel the puff of his breath against my cheek.
Even when he’s stalking someone, I don’t think I’ve ever seen V this still and silent. The psycho leans towards scary and showy, not stealthy and quiet. V’s the kind to stab you while dressed in drag and singing show tunes, not stalk you in the shadows and slink away. He wants you to see your death coming, to face him head on, and to watch the life drain out of your eyes.
There’s none of that strength, or insanity, on his face now. His lips are cracked despite me gently patting them with a damp washcloth, and his breathing is harsh, forcing his shoulders and chest to move in a jagged pattern rather than with ease. Even the scar on his face looks starker now against his pale skin, the normal rugged tan he sported washed out.
What the fuck is happening to him?
Is this because he was in Faerie? Did he not take the liquid he was supposed to? Or is it something else? Does it have anything to do with the murders?
“I’ll kill you for scaring me, Vagina,” I remind him, even as I smooth his hair back with gentle fingers, letting the warmth of him reassure me. “You aren’t allowed to do this.”
Foster snarls, chucking his phone so it lands on the table beside us with a clatter. His fingers dig deeply into his hair as he takes one long breath and then blows it out slowly, the action studied and practiced as if he’s done it thousands of times.
“Gage isn’t answering his cell. Neither is Devyn.” Foster clears his throat, watching my hand smooth down V’s cheek and scrape over the stubble that decorates his jaw. “Xander and Kian are looking for them both, but so far, they aren’t having any luck.”
Nausea curls in my stomach, oily and icy, as I continue to soothingly stroke an unconscious V. If I don’t stop touching him, he can’t disappear.
At the same time, though…
If we don’t find Gage, who knows what kind of trouble my fae prince could end up in? We can’t exactly take V to a regular fae hospital, not with him being the heir. The political weight of that would be shocking, especially because V was considered impervious.
Not that I won’t do it if I have no other option.
At the end of the day, V’s life is more important than politics.
Yet, if this was a coordinated attack from the murderer…
V would be a sitting duck in the hospital. Even with me and the rest of my mates standing guard, there’s no telling what could happen to my dark angel if he’s pulled into surgery or when a healer is checking him over or even when he’s simply lying in bed asleep. The killer has already proven himself—or herself—capable of pulling off the impossible.
Can I risk bringing him to a public fae hospital?
Do I contact his mother and see if she can find him a plethora of private healers?
I tried healing him myself, tried tapping into the part of me that’s bonded to Gage, but nothing worked. I didn’t feel the telltale sizzle of power beneath my skin like I did when I healed Devyn that one time. I don’t know if it’s because I need Gage nearby or if my ability to draw on my mates’ magic only works sporadically.
How can I have all of these abilities but not know how to use a single one of them when it matters most? Changing my appearance isn’t going to help matters currently.
“My parents aren’t answering either,” I admit, glancing at my cell phone again and chewing on my lower lip.
If everyone’s missing, clearly, our time in the Fae Realm has resulted in drama here that we aren’t up to date on.
Are they all like V? Seizing, in pain, unconscious…
I push the dark thought away, making myself breathe deeply in a mimicry of Foster’s calming technique. If anyone knows how to calm himself, it will be my hair-trigger fire starter.
“You should go look for him.” Tristan’s voice is rough, and though quiet, it echoes in the stillness of the room.
Foster and I both turn to see him in the doorway wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist.
“I can keep an eye on the prince. Foster, you’ll know places that Gage likes to get away, and his mom likes you. She may tell you something.” Tristan’s eyes move to me, and though he tries to smile, it doesn’t quite reach them. “Sera, you’ll know where your family might be. Honestly, they’d probably stab any of us. Well, stab if we’re lucky. Decapitate or worse if we’re unlucky.” He winces, ruffling his hair. “Me especially.”
Yeah…he still hasn’t exactly made up with my family after my brother found him with his hand down my pants.
It doesn’t seem to matter that I emphasized, over and over again until I could recite it in my sleep, that it’s my body and I’ll do with it what—and whom—I want. Caleb, Madd, and my dad all see me as a weak, fragile, little girl who should absolutely never have sex or know anything about it.
Even my mother grew tired of it and seemed to go out of her way to talk about her own sex life around my brothers. Granted, I wasn’t super thrilled about that either—it isn’t like anyone wants to think about their parents having sex—but I appreciate the solidarity of women being able to own their bodies and choices.
Plus, it provided a distraction from her kitchen experimentations that I was likely to expire from at some point. My mother is certainly proof that eating healthy can kill you.
“He probably won’t be happy if he wakes up,” I warn Tristan, even as I push to my feet.
Part of me is screaming for me to stay. To hold V’s hand, monitor his breathing, to be by his side just in case…
I swallow back the end of that thought. Sure, I know how to handle seizures and be there for someone in pain. I’ve done enough of it myself over the years. But it won’t do anything to help heal him.
And if we can’t find Gage, I’m not above kidnapping a healer, forcing him to work on V, then either having Kian wipe his mind or just outright killing him.
My family—my mates—come first.
Always.
I don’t care about the courts or politics or protocols. But the people I love? I’ll do anything for them.
“I’ll video call you,” Tristan assures me, plugging his phone into the charger by the bed. “He’ll calm down for you. Or at least not stab me much.”
His laugh is a little hollow, but his shoulders are back, and it seems to give him strength and purpose to be caring for one of the other members of our group.
Brother mates?
Mates-in-law?
I really need to figure out the actual wording for my mates’ relationship to each other. I didn’t think to ask them what being my mate would make them to each other. It certainly isn’t something that came up, and I have a feeling that most of my mates are straight as can be.
My eyes flick to V at the thought, knowing he’s an exception to that, though I can’t see him ever touching anyone but me. The pushy, possessive bastard.
“Keep me updated?” I don’t try to hide the pleading in my voice, and Tristan pulls me into a tight hug, nuzzling against me in a way that makes me want to melt against him and hide from the world.
We’ve just been hit by one thing after the next, and all I want is to just enjoy my friends, my mates, my magic, and live a little bit.
“Always. He’s strong. You know that. He’ll pull through just to be stubborn.” He pulls back, pressing a light kiss to my lips and then another to my forehead. “Find Gage and your family. Kick their asses for worrying us, and we’ll heal V right up. And then never let him live it down.”
I squeeze his hand before leaning over V and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, though he remains sound asleep, his sharp mind hidden away as his body tries to process whatever is happening to him.
I turn to Foster even as I check my blades, patting them one by one. “Let’s go.”
And heaven help anyone who gets in my way.