8. Cian
Cian
I didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning all night.
All I could think of was Skylar. How it felt to hold her, to kiss her.
I tried to make sense of these strange feelings she brought out in me, but I couldn’t.
More than once, I opened my laptop and checked on her.
Her light was on all night, and she seemed as restless as I was, sitting up in bed, staring blankly, or sitting in the chair with a book she didn’t seem to be reading.
I was tempted to go in and talk to her, but I wasn’t sure what I could say.
I hadn’t expected to feel like this about her. I hadn’t expected to feel anything.
Finally, when I saw her nod off to sleep, I was able to drift off as well.
I woke up to the sound of laughter in the kitchen. Groaning, I rolled out of bed and walked down the hall, frowning at the sight in front of me.
Sean was sitting at the table, sipping coffee, doing something on the computer, and Skylar was at the counter, chopping vegetables.
With a knife.
“What the fuck?” I growled.
They both looked up, and before they could react, I lunged forward and grabbed the big, sharp object away from Skylar.
Skylar huffed and rolled her eyes as Sean regarded me calmly. “Problem, Cian?”
“You gave her a knife? A fucking knife?”
He waved his hand. “I have my gun. It’s faster. She’s not going to do anything.”
“You don’t know that!”
Skylar shook her head. “ She’s right here, fuckwit. Stop talking about me like I’m not in the room.”
I pointed the knife at her. “Stop calling me that! What the hell are you doing anyway?”
She shrugged. “I was tired of playing cards. I wanted soup, and Sean said I could make some.”
I glared at him. “You volunteered to give her a knife? Have you forgotten the window? The door? The air conditioner? MacGyver ring a bell with you?”
He chuckled and took another drink of his coffee. “She asked if she could. I’m watching her. Skylar knows the rules.” He looked at her. “Right, Skylar?”
“No stabbing or threats. No bodily harm to myself. Anything but cooking, and I’m back in my room with no books,” she recited.
He nodded. “See? Give her back the knife, Cian. The soup smells awesome, and I’m starving from shoveling all that fucking snow—while you slept, I might add.”
I didn’t even acknowledge his comment. Instead, I focused on Skylar and glanced down at the knife. “It’ll be worse than just back in your room if you try to hurt us or yourself with this.”
She held out her hand. “I don’t like blood, Cian. That’s your department, remember?”
Grudgingly, I handed her back the knife. Sean did seem to have it under control.
“I made coffee,” she offered.
“Damn good coffee, too,” Sean added.
I sat down with a cup and took a deep swallow. It was good. She had added something to it, and I took another sip, trying to figure it out.
“Cinnamon,” Sean said quietly.
I nodded. I liked it.
Silently, I watched Skylar moving around—she certainly seemed at home in the kitchen.
She chopped and added, stirred and tasted, finally nodding.
Covering the pot, she smiled and made a big production of wiping off the knife and handing it to Sean.
“There. You can breathe again, Cian. I didn’t try to stab either of you or hurt myself. ”
She sat down beside me and, without even asking, refilled my cup, then did the same for herself.
I narrowed my eyes at her. There was something different about her today—almost jaunty.
No. Mischievous. She was up to something. I leaned forward, my lips close to her ear. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Kitten? What plan are you concocting now?”
Her smile faltered. “Nothing,” she insisted. “I wanted to do something. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She flung out her hands. “What could I be up to, Cian? Sean watched me the whole time! I made some soup—just some fucking soup!”
“There you go again with the language.”
“Stop pissing me off, then.”
“It’s fun.”
“Cian, please.” Sean groaned. “Leave her alone. Go have a shower, and then we can eat.”
Skylar nodded. “About half an hour and it’ll be ready.”
I stood. “Fine.” I flipped two fingers between my eyes and Skylar. “But I’m watching you.”
“Watch away, fuckwit,” she muttered as I walked away.
I waited until I was in the shower before I let out my laughter.
S ean and Skylar were sitting at the table, steaming bowls of soup in front of them. Sean grinned at me. “This is awesome,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “And I didn’t have to make it.”
I rolled my eyes but inhaled in appreciation at the bowl Skylar placed in front of me. “Vegetable beef?” I asked, picking up my spoon.
She nodded. “I used up the leftover meat from last night.” She sighed quietly, glancing out the window. “It felt like a soup kind of day. I love soup. I missed cooking when I was on the street.”
Sean and I shared a look. It was the first time she’d ever offered anything personal to either of us. “Feel free to cook anytime, Skylar.” He winked at her and lifted his bowl. “Can I get some more?”
Grinning, she went over to the stove, and I started eating. Sean was right—it was delicious. No wonder he was on his second bowl. Knowing how quickly he ate, I started rushing, spooning the soup into my mouth quickly. I wanted to be sure to get another bowl before he polished it off.
For a few minutes, all you could hear in the room was the sound of spoons scraping pottery and chewing.
The sudden clatter of a spoon hitting the table startled me, and I looked up from my bowl, frowning.
Sean was staring at Skylar, his mouth moving but nothing coming out.
Leaning over, I grabbed his shoulder. “What’s wrong? ”
He shook his head, blinking rapidly. Skylar stood, looking panicked. “What’s wrong with him?”
Sean slumped over, and I lunged forward, grabbing him before he hit the floor. “ Fuck ! I think he’s having a stroke or something!”
I felt his pulse. It was slow but steady. His breathing seemed fine. As I looked up at Skylar, wanting to reassure her, a wave of dizziness hit me. I tried to talk, but the words didn’t come. Shaking my head to clear it, I realized Skylar no longer looked panicked—she looked sad but triumphant.
“Wh-wh-what did you do?” I managed to slur out.
She didn’t reply. The last thing I saw as darkness closed in was her feet hurrying out of the kitchen.
T he room buzzed all around me. I swam to consciousness, confused and blinking.
I looked over at Sean, who was still passed out cold.
Remembering how we’d both gotten on the floor caused a surge of pure rage to course through me.
Groaning, I forced my lethargic muscles to move, checking to make sure Sean was still breathing, and then, with a Herculean effort, pulled myself up to my feet.
I stumbled down the hall, cursing when I saw the front door unlocked and Skylar’s coat missing.
I knew there was no point checking her room.
Skylar was gone.
I slid down the wall, taking in deep breaths to steady myself. I checked my watch, estimating I’d been out for about fifteen minutes—twenty, tops. I pushed up to my feet and grabbed my coat. I had to sit down again to yank on my boots as another wave of dizziness hit me.
Somehow she had drugged us. Where she got her hands on what she needed, I had no idea, but I realized with grim satisfaction I had been right earlier.
She had been up to something. Her entire demeanor had been to lure us into a false sense of security.
I pushed aside the hurt when I realized the fact that kissing me was probably part of her plan as well.
I went back to the kitchen, stopping only to turn Sean on his side.
I didn’t need him swallowing his tongue and dying while I was gone.
I grabbed the keys I wanted from the drawer and stepped outside.
The bitter cold hit me, the air helping to clear my head.
I trudged to the garage, grateful Skylar hadn’t found the keys to the SUV or she’d be long gone.
At least with her on foot, I had a chance of finding her.
I opened the door and uncovered one of the snowmobiles we had stored, glad we kept them in running order.
The knowledge that I would be able to find her fast using the powerful machine was comforting.
Pulling out of the garage, I followed the footprints I could see in the snow, frowning when I realized she had taken off across the wide field.
I scanned the horizon. She couldn’t have gone far in the deep snow and bitter cold.
Where exactly did she think she was going?
We were in the middle of nowhere in a snowstorm.
The thin coat and old boots she’d been wearing when we’d found her offered little protection in this cold.
I had no doubt she would succumb to the elements long before she found safety.
My stomach rolled at the thought of her being in danger this way, and I had to push aside the feeling of fear.
I had to find her.
Revving the engine, I leaned over the handles and took off in search of MacGyver, hoping her own cleverness hadn’t proven too much for her.
Knowing I’d never be able to live with myself if it had.
M inutes later, I caught a flash of something to my right, and I turned the machine in the direction of the speck of color that I saw, praying it was her.
Within seconds, I pulled up beside a small heap of lifeless Skylar.
Her hair was blowing wildly in the wind—the strands standing out against the white snow like the chocolate sauce on the ice cream she’d eaten last night with so much glee.
I noticed a small smattering of blood by her head, and I could see a rock jutting out of the snow.
My heart plummeted as I realized she must have tripped, hitting her head.
I roared her name, but she remained inert.
She was already covered in snow—another five minutes, and I would never have found her.
It took every bit of my waning strength to lift her into my arms and stumble back to the snowmobile, depositing her onto the seat.
I pushed her heavy, wet hair away from her face, swearing again at the gash on her temple.
She was as white as the snow she’d been lying in, and her lips had begun to turn blue from the extreme cold.
“Dammit, Skylar.” I shook her. “Wake up!”
There was no response. I pressed my mouth against hers, blowing warm air into her mouth.
“Keep breathing, baby. Breathe for me,” I urged, rubbing my hands over her arms and torso, trying to stimulate some warmth.
A long shudder ran through her, and I pulled her against me, talking into her ear.
“Skylar, I need you to hold on to me so I can drive us back. Please, Kitten. I need your help. I can’t get us back if you don’t help me. ”
Her head bobbed, and I sat down in front of her.
Turning my head, I spoke loudly. “Hold on to me, Skylar. As hard as you can. Grip the material.” I leaned back into her, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around my waist. “You can do this, Skylar. Don’t you fucking give up on me. Don’t you fucking dare. ”
Her head pushed into my back, and her hands flexed, finding purchase on my coat. The grip was loose, but it was enough. I was hopeful she would stay upright.
When I leaned forward over the handlebars, she leaned with me. “Hold tight!” I yelled, and then we were off, skimming over the snow, heading toward the warmth of the house.
I only hoped it wasn’t too late.