20. Phil #2
Werewolves and pixies didn’t mate. They didn’t even date. I needed to keep that in mind. Attraction to your employer was one thing. Falling in love was another. I had to drill that into my head, find a way to pound it into every crevice I could. I needed to get my heart under control—pronto.
Sedrick didn’t help me with that task when he started to pull the sheet away from me. I gripped it tightly, eyes wide. Holding fast to the sheet, I fought Sedrick’s efforts.
Chuckling low, Sedrick pried my fingers away.
“I need to check your wounds. That’s all I’m doing.
The healer left a cleanser and ointment that needs to be applied twice a day.
I’ve got strict instructions on what to do, and if you think I’m going to go against a brownie’s orders, you’ve got another thing coming. ”
“A brownie? Mr. Buttons’s brother?”
“The one and the same.” Sedrick nodded. “Peaches called Mr. Buttons, and from what I understand, he called his brother, Hue. He arrived not long after I got here. I’m not surprised you don’t remember.
Hue told me you woke long enough to take the pain medication, but you were out like a light again after that. ”
I thought over that, tugging on my bottom lip with my teeth. Healers were expensive. I mentally went through the little bit I’d saved. I’d had visions of pale pink silks in my future. It looked like I’d have to put off a trip to Engels Fine Fabrics for a little while yet.
“What’s got your face twisted up like that?
” Sedrick asked as he untied a bandage on my calf.
His fingers whispered against my skin. Pixies didn’t have hair on their arms and legs like most other species.
Gooseflesh pebbled up and down my milky-white skin.
Sedrick misinterpreted it and asked, “Are you cold? I can turn up the heat if you want.”
“No,” I answered, embarrassed from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head. “I . . . uh, was just wondering if the healer left a bill or if I need to ask Mr. Buttons for his brother’s contact information.”
Sedrick’s head snapped up, and his lip curled. I caught the edge of a fang and shrank back into my pillows. I wasn’t sure what I’d said to upset him and allow his wolf to break through.
“Pay?” Sedrick’s voice was little more than a growl. “Why in the hell would you pay for anything?”
“I . . .” I snapped my mouth shut, unsure what to say or why Sedrick looked so upset.
I was the one that had gotten hurt. From what I understood, Dillon had shifted a few times and healed himself.
Sedrick wouldn’t have needed to call in a healer if not for me.
Why shouldn’t I be the one to foot that bill?
Inhaling deeply, Sedrick closed his eyes.
Seconds felt like minutes, but the amber glow was gone when he opened them again.
“Sorry, Phil.” Sedrick got back to work on my bandages.
“I guess I didn’t make myself clear enough when I told you I’d pay anything to keep you and the children safe.
Hue’s fees are nothing.” Sedrick waved a hand in the air.
“Nothing at all. Even if they were as high as Good Riddance Gnome Exterminators’ emergency fee, I would happily pay it.
” Fingers stilling, Sedrick looked up and caught my gaze.
I couldn’t look away, no matter how much I wanted, not that I wanted all that badly.
“Get that through your head, Phil. I will do everything and anything I can to keep you safe and well.”
I had no words and remained silent while Sedrick cleaned and re-bandaged my wounds.
Strangely, the intimacy was gone, but something else had settled in its place.
Soothing warmth lit me from within, battling the pain in my arms, legs, and wing.
No matter how gentle Sedrick was, it still hurt.
I’d never tell Dillon, but his bite was the most painful.
It was the deepest and would take the longest to heal.
It might be the one wound that scarred, but it would be more than worth the price.
Despite the insanity of it, my heart pounded deep and steady.
A flicker of hope danced within my gut, twisting up my insides and sending off waves of nausea.
I desperately wanted this to be home—with Sedrick, Dillon, and Ruthie.
It felt like home. Deep inside, in that secret place that made me what I was, desperation clung to that fragile slip of hope with tenacious claws.
I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life.
Want and hope were dangerous things. They were more addicting than any drug.
They whispered possibilities and promised happiness.
They could raise your soul to impossible limits and crush it with the force of absolute destruction.
I’d told myself countless times not to get too attached, not to let myself believe this could be something more permanent.
But I could repeat the same mantra a thousand and one times.
It was that one soft whisper that beat out the sane caution.
It was that whisper of hope that was far too tempting to ignore.