Chapter 23 #2
I stumbled for the door. Careened out into the hallway. Somehow, I stumbled through the maze and into the enormous entry, with the waterfall misting the air and the atrium open to the sky above.
Shocked faces went by in a blur.
Then suddenly, I was staggering against a hard chest.
Powerful arms swept me up, cradling me easily. I breathed in the scent of his soap and skin, of smoke and pine, even stronger than the smell of vomit and coppery blood that clung to me.
Fieran.
I knew him before the blur in my vision resolved into his face.
“Who did this to you?” he asked fiercely.
I meant to answer him, but the world was so dark and wobbly and speaking seemed so exhausting. As much as I didn’t want to die without blaming Maura, I found my head on his shoulder, my eyes drifting closed.
Fuck. I shouldn’t rest my head on his shoulder. I hated him. But not enough to lift my head. It felt so heavy, my neck weak and wobbly.
“You’re going to be all right, Cara. I’m taking you to the healer.”
The world sped past us, he was moving so quickly, and I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t puke again.
“Healer!” he called, and there was a note of desperation in his voice that didn’t make sense.
We burst through a pair of doors, and then he was laying me down on a table. He kept his arm under my head, cradling me, his body bent low, close to mine.
“Help her,” he ordered, his voice rough and commanding.
The next moments came to me in bits and pieces as I floated in and out and just above sleep.
“Nasty head injury…they heal differently, even with the potion. We should keep her close…she needs to sleep, but she should be observed…”
I shivered and found myself wrapped in his arms.
“We can’t treat her while you hold her.”
“I think you can.”
Then I was moving again, being carried away. “She doesn’t need to stay here. I’ll take care of her myself.”
His throat was against my face as he held me.
Memories washed over me in the vague haze of my mind.
For a moment, I was small again, falling asleep in one place and waking in my own bed, never questioning being carried home.
Contentment, warmth, safety. It felt as if I’d fallen through time to something I hadn’t felt in years.
Being protected. Being cared for.
“Who did this to you?” he demanded, stroking my hair back from my face. His palm was calloused and warm, and his gaze softened when I turned my face into his hand. “Why wasn’t Maura with you?”
He thought I’d been set upon by shifters or Fae?
“Maura,” I murmured.
“Did they take her?”
He looked wild with worry. From what she’d said, it had seemed as if she loved him and wouldn’t admit it; maybe he loved her too. “Cara. Tell me who hurt you. I’ll make them pay.”
I tried to tell him, but I was so tired, and I was fading again.
I woke up in an unfamiliar place. The light was dim, as if it had shifted into night while I was asleep. I was on crisp sheets, the fabric cool against my skin. I moved restlessly and realized my legs were bare as fabric slipped against them.
When I moved to sit up, my head pounded, and I let myself fall back against the sheets.
The bed shifted as someone sat beside me, their weight making me slide slightly toward them.
Someone stroked my hair back from my face, their palm warm and heavy and gentle.
For a second, I thought it was my mother; I could’ve been in another time, another place.
Longing for her swelled in my chest, a longing I hadn’t felt since I was little. I almost whispered her name.
I managed to turn my head to see a powerful, dark-haired figure, a regrettably handsome face, sharp eyes.
Fieran.
Thank fuck I hadn’t called him Mam.
“What are you doing?” As I sat up on my elbow, sharp pain stabbed through my head. The world whirled around me, and my stomach heaved as if I’d be sick. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my bed,” he told me. “I wanted to keep an eye on you. Don’t worry, I’ve been sleeping on the floor.”
“I feel like I’m dying.” I rubbed my hand across my face, my hot, aching eyes.
“You’re not. They gave you a sleeping draught, but you’re too stubborn to let it work, apparently. That’s why you feel terrible.”
“I’m going to my own room.” I managed the words, my voice a rasp, but I couldn’t seem to get my body to cooperate.
“Are you?” His amusement was inescapable. “Don’t worry, Cara. You’re safe with me.”
It felt like a barb, an implication that he would never want me in his bed except for this practical reason. Even though I hated him, it stung.
“Sleep,” he told me. “Your head hurts because you’re fighting sleep. When you wake, you’ll be healed.”
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“Because of the nightmares?” He ran his hand over my hair, stroking it back. The weight of his hand on my hair felt strangely comforting.
“Nightmares?”
“You make noises in your sleep.”
“No, I don’t.”
His lips curled.
“I don’t remember them,” I admitted, and his smile died away. “But maybe it’s because of the monsters sleeping in their cages so close to us.”
A shiver ran through me, and I reached for him, remembering how good his body heat had felt when I was shivering in the healers’ quarters. “Hold me.”
He hesitated, and in the dim light and my confusion, I couldn’t read his face at all.
“I don’t want you,” I grumbled, putting my hand on his shoulder to push him away. Except my fingers tightened in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him close. “I want your warmth.”
“I could get you another blanket instead of my detestable self.” But even as he said the words, he moved closer. He slid his arm under my head, gently sliding and positioning our bodies until my head was on his shoulder, and his arm was wrapped carefully around my waist.
He was dreadful, but he was comfortable.
I breathed in that woodsmoke-and-greenery scent. “Why are you looking after me?”
“I want you to feel guilty in the morning for not trusting me.”
“I’m not going to trust you in the morning.” My hand was draped over his taut stomach, and his muscles tensed and rippled under my palm every time he shifted. I should probably move, but I was too tired.
Instead, I draped my leg over his, snuggling down, trying to get more comfortable. My hand accidentally brushed lower, and he stiffened. “Why, really, Fear?”
“Oh, I’m the one who’ll feel guilty in the morning.” He took my hand off his lean lower torso, and wove his fingers through mine. “And every day afterward.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve better than to be dragged into all my schemes.” He raised our joined hands in front of my face.
“Do you know you won’t remember much of this, if any, when you wake?
I’ve taken that same sleeping draught many times.
Dairen has either played some truly terrible tricks on me or lied about it, and I will never know. ”
“Are you playing a trick on me?” The words came out soft, slurred.
“Yes. But I might be playing an even uglier trick on myself.” He laid our joined hands back down on his chest.
“Everything you say is nonsense, Fear.”
He laughed, his chest rising and falling. It felt nice being this close to him, hearing him laugh.
“The sleeping draught must really ruin you,” I murmured. “Tomorrow…I’m going to hate you again.”
“Oh, I know,” he said. “And I’ll deserve it. But tonight, while those walls of yours aren’t quite so steady, I want to ask you something. You have to promise me you’ll forget, because if the queen knows my plans, she’ll destroy them. She’ll destroy you.”
“I’m going to remember,” I said rebelliously. Then, “But tell me anyway.”
The slurring in my voice might have convinced him. I tried to commit every moment to memory, afraid I’d lose this conversation the way he expected.
“If I could save your sister’s magic…but it meant I’d have to manipulate you, would you let me? I need the queen to believe a lie. She can glamour a mortal like you to tell her the truth, so I need you to believe that lie.”
“What’s the lie?”
“Maybe you could let her believe that we’re falling in love. Let her think that’s why I keep you so close.” His hand traced slow circles over my back. “Let her think I’m using you to make Ander jealous.”
“Ander’s not jealous. You’re jealous of Ander.”
He grinned. “You don’t want Ander. You want me.”
“I don’t.” I nuzzled my face into his throat before I noticed what I was doing. His hand went to the back of my head, stroking my hair; his fingers running through the strands and massaging my scalp felt soothing.
“When she realizes I’ve brought you here for another reason, we can make her think that I found a way to make a dragon-marked mortal. That you are a gift from the rebellion. We shifters can offer the mortals as great a prize as do the Fae.”
“You didn’t make me,” I grumbled. The conversation was too confusing for my pounding head.
I just wanted to go to sleep, and I rolled over further, my thigh sliding over his.
My bare leg brushed against his erect cock, through the fabric of his pants, and he made a faint groan that he bit off savagely.
But there was always one burning thought that was the only thing that cut through the mist. “If we convince her of those lies…do you really think you can save Lidi’s magic?”
“If we can convince her of those lies, I think you’ll save Lidi’s magic.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“But I’ll lie to you and manipulate you, and you’ll hate me.”
“But not forever.”
His hand in my hair stilled. “No, not forever.”
“Then lie to me,” I murmured, and he went on teasing his fingers through my hair as I finally let go and drifted down.