CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Drak
I was an absolute wreck.
I didn’t want to see my aunt—the Dowager Queen Mother—and I should have just left the room when I saw her sitting in that chair. Of course, the demons at the prison wouldn’t listen when I said I didn’t want to see her. They didn’t care. They also probably wouldn’t have let us in if I didn’t tell them who I was, so they just assumed I wanted to see her.
Much like Maxar’s mother, my aunt hadn’t changed in the years she’d spent locked away from the world. She probed me for information about Howar, and as badly as I wanted to keep it all from her, obligation and duty prevailed. I told her about Howar’s young daughter, Princess Fiorella. She wanted to know who from the family remained alive, who had perished, and who was in power of the Realm.
But something in her eyes and the way she asked who was in power of the Realm gave me pause. There was a glint of defiance there. A flicker of knowledge and a secret that she desperately wanted to unleash, then bask in the pain and suffering it created. I held off telling her anything of importance for as long as I could. She continued to press though, asking of the monarchy, and the state of the Realm. Finally, I bit the carrot she dangled .
“King Donovar is dead,” I simply said.
“I am aware. Who is in power now?”
Did she somehow know about my mate being the rightful heir? Did news travel this far into the bowels of Hell? Even though I’d only been here once before, I was fairly certain they kept the flow of information about the Realm and Earth to Helltower pretty minimal. It was one of the ways they avoided the potential of insurrection.
“What have you heard?” I asked.
“Why are you answering a question with a question, nephew?” She lifted one dark brow, pinning me with her sharp blue gaze. “I still outrank you. Answer me.”
“I think my freedom, and your lack of it, negate any ranking here, Aunt Quintella. You are, after all, the Dowager Queen. Not regent, not consort, not reigning.”
Her nostrils flared and fire lit up in her eyes. “I have heard rumors that a usurper, a mongrel, is trying to lay claim to the throne. To Lerris’s rightful place as king. Did you know that Donovar was slumming it?”
“I didn’t make a habit of keeping up with the late king’s dalliances. My job on your son’s security detail and in his court keeps me rather busy.” All I got in response to that was a slight brow lift. “Who told you about this anyway?”
Her eyes formed thin slits and a menacing grin curled her mouth. “I hear she’s your mate.”
Heat lanced through me. “Who told you this?” I demanded, urgency filling my tone even though I tried to keep my volume to a whisper.
Believing she had the upper hand—because maybe she did—her smile grew. “Why, Lerris, of course. He came to visit me just yesterday. I must say, two visits in a week, such a treat.” Her gaze slid to Omaera, who stood with her arm around Maxar. “Is that her? Is that the little mutt? Lerris said she had three Fated Mates, which I’m not sure I believe. However, the fact that you, a demon, a mage, and a shifter all arrived … and that is the putrid cocktail Lerris described …” Excitement filled her gaze. “How utterly delicious. I shall wait for the announcement of her death. I hope it is long and painful. ”
That’s when I stood up so abruptly my chair flew backward and tipped over. The desire to launch myself across the table and embed my fangs into my aunt’s neck had never been more consuming. Only, my fangs wouldn’t drop here. I was no more than an immortal human behind these walls.
I glared down at my aunt, and she glared back. One corner of her mouth tipped up into a half-smirk. I needed to get out of there. I couldn’t be in a room with that woman for another moment. I spun on my heel and stalked across the room, pounded on the door, and headed for the corridor. I only knew the rest were behind me because I heard their footsteps. None of us spoke though.
I led the charge toward the door, through the pitch black, narrow hallway of before. Even though we were deep underground, it was still incredibly hot. The longer I stayed in Hell, the harder it was. And now that Omaera had mate-bonded with the mage, the Mate’s Ache in my body was stronger than ever. I couldn’t even a be a room away from her. I hadn’t slept well since she mate-bonded the mage, and our days were spent with her learning how to torture, using me as a guinea pig.
Despite the absolute misery that being in Helltower was, because of the borromium and our lack of magic, the Mate’s Ache was also gone. The tightness around my chest ceased to exist and I could breathe. My stomach didn’t ache, and my head wasn’t cloudy. For the first time since the lightning strike, I felt like my old self. I didn’t have the pull to Omaera like I normally did. At least not the magical one.
And even though I hated being inside that hideous cage for the damned, it was reassuring to know that it wasn’t just the magic that made me want her. My heart still beat for her. My body still burned for her. The blood in my veins still pumped for her, and only her.
Now we were on our way back to Kenvin’s and she was staring me down, threatening to unlock the box of secrets in my mind.
There was very little I could deny my mate. Which made me appreciative she wasn’t pushing for me to tell her about the Mate’s Ache. If she knew about it, it might change the course of our bonding. I wanted her to want me for me, and with nothing else pushing her to commit to me for life. I could handle the agony. I’d endured worse. Her threat made me smile though. My breath rose and fell rapidly. I knew I needed to tell them. “Lerris has been to see Quintella,” I finally said, my jaw so tight it throbbed.
Maxar jerked the wheel hard, sending us all swaying sharply to the left.
“When?” Omaera whispered once the mage straightened us out again.
I swallowed. “Yesterday.”
Omaera’s gaze flew to Zandren quickly, then back to me. “What did he tell her? What did she say? Where is he staying? Where is he now?”
I shook my head. I didn’t ask my aunt those questions, but I already knew she wouldn’t have told me—or at least, wouldn’t have told me the truth—if I did ask. She was pure chaos and would get too much sick satisfaction sending us off with the wrong information. “He told her about you. About us. ” I met Maxar’s eyes in the rearview mirror, then glanced at Zandren. “About all of us.”
“Okay, so what does that mean?” Omaera asked. “What could Lerris gain traveling all the way to Hell and Helltower Penitentiary to meet with your aunt?”
“She was the one who started the war a hundred and fifty years ago. She’s the Dowager Queen. I’m sure he could gain a lot.”
“And can she do anything with the information about me … about us from behind the prison walls? Does she have any clout? Any way of contacting people?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Maxar slammed his hand into the steering wheel. “Fuck!” His head shook and orange flames danced along his fingers as they gripped the wheel tight. “So is it even safe going back to town? Going back to Kenvin’s? Or should I just start trying to find a fucking portal?”
I couldn’t answer that.
“How would Lerris know where to look for us though? Is he working with Howar? Did Howar tell him where we went?” Omaera asked the questions we were all thinking.
“They have to be,” Zandren mused. “And Howar told him we were coming to Hell to find someone to train Omaera.” His face went ashen. “Is Kenvin safe? ”
My nod was small. “I told Howar we were meeting a female demon. I didn’t give him a name. Kenvin should be fine.”
“Old goat could probably kill Lerris with his pinky finger,” Maxar murmured from the front seat.
“I still want to get back to Kenvin’s though,” Omaera said. “We need to lie low and figure out what to do from here.”
We all agreed, and I was about to open my mouth and suggest we have Kenvin put out some feelers about where Lerris might be when a mighty screech outside and a huge shadow from above darkened the interior of the vehicle, making us all pause. Talons the size of bananas dug into the metal roof of the car just inches from our heads.
“What the hell?” Maxar hollered, swerving the vehicle left and right to shake the bisibra. “I thought they only attacked at night?”
Well, apparently not. Hell was chock-full of paradoxes and irony.
Omaera screamed, and Zandren held on tight to the handle on the ceiling.
The beast above screeched even louder, piercing our ears with its murderous cry. It shook the vehicle until we were balancing on only the right wheels at one point. Maxar continued to whip the wheel around, attempting to dislodge our attacker.
The talons retracted from the ceiling and the heavy beat of wings overhead stirred up red dust everywhere until we were socked in and unable to see anything.
“What now?” Omaera asked just as talons came flying through the glass window on my side, sending shards flying across our laps. Unlike many Earth birds that had scaly legs, this creature had long, thick legs covered in short, wiry hair—almost like a terrier or something. An idea popped into my head, and before I could think too much about the consequences, I dropped my fangs and plunged them into the bisibra’s leg.
Maxar continued to drive like a maniac, whipping the vehicle to and fro as he battled the weight of the animal on the roof.
When I punctured the creature’s skin, its howl was unlike anything I’d ever heard. Loud, high-pitched, and blood-curdling. It made every hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. My stomach roiled and bile coated the back of my throat as its disgusting blood filled my mouth. I injected a heavy dose of paralytic into the animal’s bloodstream, unsure whether it needed more than what I gave Zandren a few days ago or not. I wasn’t looking to kill Zandren when I did it. I didn’t care to spare this monster’s life.
The bisibra howled again and the claws uncurled from the jagged windowsill as its muscles relaxed. I removed my fangs, spat out the blood in my mouth, and let the animal fall from the vehicle, disappearing into the dust.
We emerged out of the dust cloud a second later, now traveling in a straight line.
However, with no landmarks in sight, it was tough to tell if we were driving in the right direction.
After we drove about a mile, Maxar stopped the car and he and Omaera spun around in their seats.
“Everyone okay?” Omaera asked, focusing on me.
I nodded, though the bisibra’s blood lingered on my tongue making me nauseous.
The sky was beginning to darken, and we still had a long way to go. Fear shone back at me in all of their eyes, mirroring what I felt in my chest as well. We were sitting ducks out here with nowhere to hide and no idea which direction was town.
“What’s the plan?” Omaera asked. “We obviously got turned around in that dust cloud. Are we even heading in the right direction? I can’t see the mountains or the prison now, and it’s getting dark.”
“Well, we can’t just sit here,” Maxar said. “We have to move in one direction or another. Sitting here makes us even more vulnerable. If we’re moving, at least we’re more challenging to catch.”
“How much more daylight do you think we have?” Zandren asked, directing his question to Maxar since he was our resident Hell expert, having been here all of two times in his life.
Maxar shrugged and shook his head, the carefree, cockiness that seemed to leak from his pores gone since we left the prison. “A couple of hours, maybe. It’s Hell, man. Who knows?”
That seemed to be the common theme here. Nothing made any sense.
Sweat dripped from my temples onto my lap. We’d stopped driving so the thick, muggy air outside was free to settle upon our skin, trapping the heat.
Omaera rested her hand on Maxar’s arm. “Best get moving, Sparky. With any luck, the mountains will appear soon enough. Then we’ll know we’re headed in the right direction.”
He nodded and put the vehicle back into drive, hitting the accelerator. Even though the air outside was still way too hot, at least it created a breeze that was welcomed against my sweaty, dusty skin. I was careful not to touch the jagged bits of glass sticking out on the windowsill, but leaned a little closer to the door to get more wind on my face.
We drove without any concern for probably another two hours, none of us saying much. Maxar also turned off the lights—which, when the night was fully on us, made driving more precarious than ever.
I was mentally drained, as I’m sure the others were as well, and closed my eyes for just a moment; the air whooshing through the broken window on my face almost pleasant. I was still completely aware of my surroundings and every bump and jiggle of the vehicle, but I wasn’t prepared for the heavy whomp whomp of wings beating overhead, far more terrifying than earlier. There was no screech this time, just the sudden crash of talons against metal as the beast in the sky ripped off my back passenger door, flinging it out into the desert.
Omaera screamed. Maxar, jarred by the uneven weight distribution of the vehicle now that the monstrous bisibra was on the roof, jerked the wheel to and fro, sending us into a tailspin. Zandren gripped the safety bar overhead, and I scrambled to find the bar on my side, but along with the door, the bisibra had also ripped off part of the vehicle.
Claws, much longer than the ones from earlier but still just as viciously sharp, scratched at my arms and body as the animal shrieked and grunted above us. Feathers filled the inside of the vehicle, and I tried to find a leg to bite like I did the other—since this was clearly a different and much bigger version of our previous attacker—but I couldn’t. We had no light, and the thing wouldn’t stop moving.
Pain lanced through me with a hot rush as the bisibra finally made contact, latching on, impaling me with its talons. The seatbelt that held me in was no match for it either. In fact, it was pulling so hard, that if I didn’t reach for the buckle and unfasten myself, I would have been ripped in two.
I was airborne in seconds, clutched into the deadly claws of my captor. But there was more weight than I expected. I glanced down, wincing from the agony of being impaled, and found Omaera holding onto my feet, dangling high above the dark ground below.
“Let go!” I screamed, blood bubbling up in my mouth. The creature must have punctured something bad.
“No! Just give me a second!”
Faint cries from below—Zandren and Maxar, no doubt—echoed as no more than whispers, we were so high up now. The air was slightly cooler this high in the air, but still not pleasant. The mighty monster’s wings beat slow and steady as it evened out its flight path, no longer climbing higher into the sky.
It let out a loud and torturous scream, followed by another, and another. It wriggled and squirmed in the sky, grunting out in pain.
And then we were falling.
At some point in our plummet to the ground, the bisibra relaxed its claws and let go of me, its talons slipping out of my body with a nasty slurping sound.
Omaera cried out in distress, and even though we were all nothing but shadows dropping quickly through the inky sky, I managed to grab her and put myself beneath her in order to break her fall.
We hit the ground with a dull and bone-crunching thud, followed by the harsh crash of the bisibra’s body smacking the compact dirt, just narrowly missing us. It made no noise or movement after that.
Nothing but shadows filled the sky around us. I tried to move, but couldn’t.
“Omaera?” I croaked; her body draped across mine. Panic filled me, giving me the rush of adrenaline I needed. I ignored the pain in my chest and lifted my hand to stroke her head. “Omaera!” I said with more urgency.
She made a soft cooing sound and stirred .
I exhaled in relief, my ribs screaming at me with every labored, wheezy breath. I probably had a collapsed lung.
Frantic, now that she was awake, she pushed herself up and rolled off me. “Drak! Oh god, Drak!” She patted me down all over. “You’re okay. Are you okay? Oh god!”
“Why?” I croaked. “Why did you do that?”
She smacked my shoulder, which was probably the only part of my body that wasn’t in agony. “I’m not going to let you get captured and eaten. Jesus. Use your brain, you dumb vampire.”
The warmth in her tone made me smile just as blood began to bubble out of my mouth.
She sniffed the air. “Shit. Are you bleeding?”
“A little,” I wheezed.
A bizarre whinny not too far off in the distance made us both pause. Then there was a cacophony of whinnies and hoof stomping.
“You heard that too, right?” she asked.
I nodded and grunted to agree.
“Something else that wants to kill and eat us?”
“Probably.” I closed my eyes and focused on sending healing powers to all the broken and damaged parts of my body. I was still healing from her last torture session, and I was losing a lot of blood. I needed to feed. “The scent of my blood is probably luring whatever that is to us. Like chum in the water.”
“We need to find somewhere to hide,” she said. “Can you walk?”
“No.”
“No?”
“The … the bisibra … it impaled me with its claws. I’m pretty sure I have a collapsed lung and most of my ribs are broken.”
“Shit.”
“You go,” I encouraged. “Find somewhere to hide.”
She smacked my shoulder again. “Aren’t you supposed to be ridiculously educated and smart? Is it just the blood loss that’s making you say this stupid shit? Or do you actually think I’m the type of person to abandon you—or anyone—out in the middle of the desert to be dismembered and disemboweled by the creatures of Hell?”
I chuckled, but that only caused more agony and more blood to fill my mouth. “D-don’t … don’t make me laugh.”
“Don’t say stupid shit then. Dumb fucking bat.”
On her knees, she glanced around the darkness. “Hang on. There’s something over there. In the direction of those whinnies. It looks … it looks like a building.”
I couldn’t sit up and look. I had to take her word for it.
Without wasting anymore time, she stood up, stepped behind my head, and reached for the collar of my jacket. Then she started to pull me like I was on a litter, in the direction of this supposed building.
“What are you doing?” I asked, feeling every rock and divot in the ground as she lugged me across it.
“Baking a fucking blueberry pie.” She growled and tugged harder. “What the fuck does it look like? I’m getting us to safety with no help from you, I might add.” She growled and grunted some more but managed to tug me along until we were up against a fence that connected to a brick and mortar out-building which resembled a barn of some sort.
The whinnying volume increased and now there were more animals making the sound, along with fervent hooves smacking the ground.
“Whatever is making that noise is in this building,” I said.
“No shit.” She grunted and pushed me up to sit so I leaned against the building. “But at least we’re in the shadows and those creature’s scents will mask ours.”
That was quick and clever thinking. I didn’t even think of that.
My blood loss was clearly messing with my mind. “Why …” I swallowed and licked my lips, “Why did the bisibra let us go?”
“Because I shredded its stupid mind into a million pieces.”
My eyes went wide, but I had to shut them again almost instantly when a fresh stab of pain made me wince and groan.
“You need to feed,” she said, on her knees beside me and holding out a wrist. “ Come on now. Have a little sip.” I could tell she was trying to lighten the mood with humor, but the tremor to her voice spoke of her sincere worry and fear.
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
I swallowed again. “Last time … you fainted.”
“I’m rolling my eyes in case you can’t tell. Do I need to order you as Your Queen again, you stubborn ass? Threaten to behead you? Because I will.”
I opened my eyes, but it was too dark to see anything but shadows across her face. Her wrist was thrust up against my mouth.
“Eat, goddamn it.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I held her wrist steady and was about to drop my fangs and plunge them in, but she yanked it away. “Wait, isn’t it better and faster to get it from my neck?”
She didn’t even wait for me to respond before she was brushing her tight curls to the side and leaning over me, exposing her neck.
I pulled in a deep inhale, my fangs instantly dropping with the need to taste her. One of her hands was on my shoulder while the other one rested on the top of my thigh, the heat of her seeping into my skin and beginning to mend the parts of me that I didn’t even know were broken.
Without saying anything, I gently pressed my fangs into the soft, smooth skin at the side of her throat, then sealed my lips over the puncture marks and began to drink the lifeblood that she so generously offered me.
Her chest rose and fell in quicker and quicker succession, her breasts right in front of my face. Her pulse raced, causing the blood to flow faster into my mouth. A groan fled the depths of my chest before I could stifle it. She was a drug. My drug.
Her breath caught and for a moment, I paused, thinking I’d hurt her in some way, but when she moaned and her blood began to pump even faster, and her breath was ragged in my ear, I realized she was climaxing. Her fingers bunched on my shoulder and thigh, squeezing as she danced around the crescendo, the scent of her arousal on the air mixing with the incredible taste of her blood was no match for my wounds which needed blood. All that blood flow migrated between my legs until I was aching for her. Seeping for her with desire.
Her hand shifted slightly on my thigh, and she brushed my erection, gasping a little when she realized I was hard.
I could have fed for longer. I could have fed for a lifetime, but I didn’t want to take too much and cause her to pass out. So I swiftly swept my tongue across the puncture marks, sealing them, and lifted my gaze to hers.
There was no light to see the expression on her face, but I didn’t need to. Without saying anything, she stood up and began to tug down her dark-blue exercise pants. I went to work on my zipper and button, releasing my cock. Bereft of her bottoms now, she sunk back to her knees and swung her leg over my lap, straddling me. Carefully, she rested her hands on my shoulders, then rose up, and notched me at her center, the heat of her searing me in the most tantalizing way.
She sunk down half an inch, pressing her forehead to mine.
My hands fell to her hips, the tingles of healing and pleasure making me see stars.
She dropped down another half an inch, the warmth and softness of her banishing every last ache and pain inside of me.
Another half an inch.
And another.
“Whose out there?” came a gruff, booming voice followed by a bright, blinding light.
Boots on gravel shuffled toward us, accompanied by the frantic whinnying of the creatures in the barn behind us. They were going wild now, stomping their hooves and getting excited.
The light pierced my eyes and Omaera hopped off me and up to her feet, scrambling for her pants and tugging them on, just as the figure attached to the voice appeared. It was a big, looming shadow of a man with broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
I carefully tucked myself back into my pants, but didn’t get up. Pain lanced through my brain making me cry out and crumple to my side.
“We come in peace!” Omaera said quickly, rushing to cover me. “Stop trying to tear apart our brains. Please.”
“That one’s not a demon,” the man said, shining his light on me. The pain eased up, but it didn’t disappear.
“No. You’re right. He’s not. He’s a vampire. I’m a demon though. And we come in peace. We mean you no harm. Please, sir, we were just looking for shelter for the night. We come looking for sanctuary.”
The light swung back to Omaera, illuminating her gorgeous face, the green in her eyes glowing like two vibrant emeralds in the late afternoon sun. I’d never truly understood the muses of men who wrote sappy poetry until I met my mate. Now, it all made sense.
“Who are you?” the man asked. It was tough to see him, since he was blinding us, and making sure he was in the shadows. Was he as ugly as the other demons we’d met?
“We’re friends of Kenvin Jol,” Omaera said. “Do you know him?”
The demon grunted. “I know Kenvin.”
“Does being his friend make us your enemy or your friend?” Omaera asked warily. “We were en route back from Helltower when our vehicle was attacked by a bisibra. We were caught; our two companions managed to escape. I was able to penetrate the bisibra’s mind and have it let us go. But the fall and the creature’s claws have very much hurt my … friend, here.”
Ouch. Calling me her friend hurt worse than getting those beast’s talons through my lungs.
“Why were you at Helltower?” the demon asked.
“We had to ask some questions to one of the inmates.”
“You’re not from Hell are you?”
“No, sir. We’re from Earth, but we are here in Hell to meet Kenvin, and we needed to go to Helltower to meet with one of the prisoners.”
“What’s your name?” He shone the light back at me.
I cleared my throat. “Drak Ferrin.”
He grunted, but it wasn’t a grunt of recognition. Then he swung the light back to Omaera. “And you?”
“Omaera Playfair, sir. Please, we’re just looking for a place to hide from danger, and where my friend can heal. We won’t cause you any trouble, I swear.”
There was that word again, “friend.”
“Haven’t met a demon so … polite in a long while,” he said, a hue of amusement in his voice. “Why are you so polite?”
“I …” Omaera glanced down at me, before meeting the man’s gaze again, “I was raised by my aunt, and she taught me that you get more flies with honey than you do vinegar. That kindness gets you further in life than hostility, and you never know what kind of day someone else is having. So until they give you reason to be anything else, be kind.”
The demon grunted again, then finally swung the light to show his face, holding the torch beneath his chin so it was like he was sitting around a campfire about to tell a scary story. He didn’t look nearly as old as he sounded. But the silver in his short-cropped beard made his face almost glow. “You say you’re friends of Kenvin’s?”
“Yes, sir.” Omaera nodded.
The demon’s head bobbed, and he grunted for the umpteenth time. “All right. Come on then. Bisibras are nasty, but you don’t want to be out here when the gorbaths start hunting. Wretched little fuckers. They start feasting on their prey before it’s even dead. At least bisibras have the decency to kill you before they eat you.”
“I-is that’s what in the barn?” Omaera asked. “Gorbaths?”
“Eh?” The demon asked, cocking his head to the side before shining the light on the building behind me. Then he chuckled. “No. Those are magsiths. I’m a magsith farmer. They’re harmless. But I have to put them in the barn for the night, otherwise the bisibras and gorbaths will get ‘em.” He ambled forward, all six-foot-whatever of him, and bent down. Grabbing my arm, he hoisted me up. “Can you walk, vampire? Or do I need to carry you?”
“I can walk,” I said, wincing with every step.
The big demon kept his arm under mine and we walked slow. Omaera had the flashlight now, and up ahead, she shone it on a humble one-story farmhouse. A smaller, daintier figure than the massive demon beside me stood in the open doorway .
“Friends of Kenvin’s,” our host said when we reached the woman standing on the porch, her arms crossed over her chest. She had brown skin—South Asian descent, most likely—and wore a matching shorts and T-shirt pajama set in black. Her hair was in two long, dark braids over her shoulders. “This here’s my mate, Vipelli, but everyone calls her Vip. You can call me Shoy.”
Vip didn’t say anything, but moved aside so Omaera, Shoy, and I could step into the house. Vip closed the door behind us and flicked on a light, revealing a kitchen very similar to Kenvin’s back in town. Nothing fancy, but well-maintained and functional. However, unlike Kenvin’s, which was all different shades of blue, Vip and Shoy’s kitchen was various shades of green.
Shoy led me over to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and set me down. Omaera stepped forward and removed my jacket, then started to work her fingers on the buttons of my shredded and bloody dress shirt. I didn’t have the energy to tell her to stop.
“Shit,” Shoy breathed, leaning back against the counter and crossing his enormous arms over his chest. “Bastard got you good.”
I glanced at the enormous demon and nodded before moving my focus to Omaera. With terror in her eyes, she inspected my injuries. My breathing was far less labored now, but my ribs were still cracked and it hurt to breathe. I was no longer coughing up blood though, which meant my punctured and collapsed lung must have started to heal.
“Why are a demon and a vampire out in the middle of the desert?” Vip asked, her voice softer and smoother than I expected. “And more importantly, how did you end up at our farm?”
Ignoring her for a moment, Omaera kept her attention on me. “Do you need to feed again?”
I probably should have, but I shook my head. I’d already taken enough from her for now. “I just need to rest.”
“I’ll go prepare the guest room,” Shoy said. “We don’t get guests often, so it’s full of random stuff right now.” He squeezed his mate’s shoulder, then took off down a hallway to the left.
Omaera met Vip’s gaze and maybe it was because I was sending all spare energy to my broken body parts that I didn’t understand, but something unspoken passed between the women in that kitchen. A sharpness filled Vip’s eyes, making them widen. Her nostrils flared, and Omaera’s brows lifted just a little.
“Do you have a bathroom or somewhere Drak can go clean up?” Omaera asked Vip. “I’d be happy to answer every burning question you have, but first I’d like him to be comfortable and resting.”
Hesitation, or perhaps it was obstinance, flashed in Vip’s gaze, but it only lasted a second before the demon nodded, uncrossed her arms, and led the way for us to the bathroom which was next door to the bedroom Shoy was making up for me.
“Do you need a hand?” Omaera asked me, once I was set up, sitting on the toilet with the lid down, a warm wet cloth in my hand.
“I should be okay,” I replied. “I’ll call if I need anything.”
I would have sooner she stayed with me, but I already felt more than a burden to her—to the whole group. I just kept getting injured. I was the weakest of us all and I’d never been weak a day in my life. Was this part of the Mate’s Ache? Would I be more resilient, and have my regular strength back once we mated?
Omaera squeezed my shoulder, then took her leave of me in the bathroom. But she stopped on the threshold, wedging herself between the jamb and the partially closed door. “I’m really glad you didn’t die, Fangs.” Her smile was sweet, almost shy. “As much as you annoy me, you’re also starting to grow on me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Like a fungus.”
That made me smirk. “Fungi are an integral part of the ecosystem.”
Her lips twitched, then she sobered and met my gaze full-on. “I’m realizing that now.” Her eyes softened. “I’ll come find you shortly. Rest, mushroom man.” Then she shot me a wink and closed the door behind me, leaving me in the bathroom with broken ribs, a gaping wound in my abdomen, and hope in my heart.