Chapter 21 #2
As if I were swimming through mud, I struggled to pry my lids apart. Another moan slammed my lashes together again, my head slicing in half from the light pooling into the room.
“Master Fishy! You are awake.” Opie’s voice drew my eyes open again.
He went onto his toes, peering right in my eyeball. “Oh, you look like crap.”
I felt like it too.
Chiirrp.
Bitzy was in the backpack on the pillow next to my head, her ears lowered down, an odd smile on her face.
Adorable, but disturbing.
Speaking of disturbing . . .
Today, Opie was in a bodysuit made of fishnet stockings, pleasure beads for a belt, and a leopard-print pasty covering his lower half, while Bitzy wore a matching leopard choker.
“You okay, Fishy?”
Not having enough energy to even speak, I tried to sit up a little more, the room spinning.
I swallowed back the vomit in my throat, breathing through my nose.
My gaze traveled down my body, which was when I realized I was naked except for my knickers and a bandage covering most of my torso, which wrapped me from my breasts to my hips.
The tan bandages were spotted dark red in places.
A blanket covered me, and a pillow rested under my head, but I lay on a hard wooden table, where I was sure Warwick’s friend had operated on me.
Herbs, potions, bowls of liquid, medical instruments, bloody rags, and gauze were scattered everywhere near me.
Slowly looking around, I took in the shadowy room.
The only light was from the two windows above letting in a dull morning glow.
The entire home was made from wood. The ceilings were low and the windows small, like we were partially underground, but the room had a cozy, reclusive feel.
The space might have been considered roomy, but it had beam posts and large furniture pieces.
Every wall had a different style bookcase, shelf, and table loaded with stacks of books, plants, jars, bowls, and various clutter, which cramped the space.
A soft snore drew my head toward the stone fireplace.
The fire was gone, but Warwick filled one of the chairs, slunk in deep, his legs outstretched and head tipped back, sound asleep.
It took a moment to take him in. Even in sleep, I could feel his guard was up. Ready to respond if something happened.
Past him, on the far side of the fireplace, I saw a curtained-off doorway where the owner of the house might be. My mind flickered over a memory. I couldn’t quite remember much except his voice. Smooth. Sexual.
I turned, spotting another doorway near me, opening to a small messy kitchen. The entire place was probably the size of my bedroom and bathroom back at HDF.
“This place is so . . . lived in.” Opie pulled my attention his way, his body wiggling like his skin itched.
“I mean, I don’t want to clean it or anything.
” His face looked as if he wanted to do just that.
“It’s so untidy and dirty. Not that I have anything against it.
To each his own, right? But . . .” He blew out, running his hands through his brown beard.
“What do I care if he likes to live in filth?” He rolled his eyes.
“Tree fairies.” He shook his head like that explained it all.
A stronger memory of the man who lived here flickered in my head, the one who saved me, with his crystal green eyes, honey-colored hair, and a striking face.
“You must really enjoy almost dying, Fishy.” Opie moved down the table, organizing the items in categories, not able to fight his nature. “I could smell the blood miles away.”
I stared at my friends, not even bothering to ask how they found me. Seemed they could follow my “smell,” no matter where I was. But by their outfits, they had come from Kitty’s.
Bitzy made a happy chirp, her fingers touching my face, still smiling at me, freaking me the fuck out.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” I grunted, every word and movement anguish. Every second that passed, more pain gnawed on my nerves.
“Wrong?” Opie tilted his head over to us.
“She’s smiling at me . . . and not flipping me off.” I blinked as she sighed happily, her blissful grin not leaving her face, her long fingers curling in the air as if she could touch it. “Is . . . is she high?”
“Oh. Right. She might have eaten something from one of these jars.” Opie went back to straightening items on the table.
I snorted as Bitzy tried to snatch at nothing.
“Great, you’re awake.”
At the sound of a sultry voice, I turned and propped up on my elbow, seeing a stunning man saunter out from the back room. His unbrushed, wavy, shoulder-length, blond hair framed his bright green eyes and prominent cheekbones.
Damn. He was sooooo pretty.
Warwick bolted up, pulling a gun from his belt, pointing it at the source.
“Fuck, Warwick. Don’t shoot me before I’ve had my tea.” The man yawned, holding up an arm. “Damn, you are wound tightly.”
Warwick peered at his friend, then at me, muttering something before he stomped through the doorway his friend had just come from.
“Sadly, can’t even blame it on him not being a morning person.” The guy winked at me, his sexual energy slamming into me.
“Tree fairies,” I muttered to myself as if that did explain it all.
My experience with them at Killian’s suggested it was their nature.
Still, it was hard to brace yourself against the intensity they released into the air, especially now when he was only dressed in a pair of light brown cotton pants.
He rubbed at his bare, pristine ripped chest, a sexy smile on his lips.
“Glad to see you are awake. Though a little surprised.”
“Surprised?” My voice croaked.
He stopped in front of me. “After what you went through? Even a fae wouldn’t wake up for weeks.” His brows furrowed, looking over me critically. “To be honest, I didn’t think you were going to make it through the night.”
“I’m hard to kill, it seems.”
“So it seems.” The side of his mouth crooked up, his bright green eyes landing on me. “I’m Ash.”
“Brexley.”
“Oh, I know.” A suggestive grin pulled on his face before his attention went to the end of the table, his eyebrows popping up. Following his gaze, I saw Opie shoving his feet into puffy cotton balls, peering down at them like they were the latest fashion.
“Did I just inherit a cross-dressing housecleaner?”
Opie’s head swirled to Ash, his mouth opened then closed, his chest puffing up, his cheeks turning a shade of purple.
Uh-oh.
“How dare you, sir.” Opie huffed indignantly, his arms folding slightly above the pleasure beads. “I am no housecleaner!”
I tried to hide my smile. I loved that that was the part he was insulted by.
“You’re a brownie.” Ash motioned to him. “Though brownies don’t normally show themselves or wear outfits as though they work in a whore house.”
“First, I do not work there. And second, do I have the look of a normal brownie to you, sir?” Opie’s newly acquired cotton ball slippers stomped down with a puff.
Even through my nausea, I had to hold back my giggle. Opie glared up at me, and I forced my face to be serious.
“How dare you call him normal,” I chided Ash. “Shame on you.” I could see Ash’s mouth twitching with humor, but he nodded.
“Sorry, my friend. You clearly are something . . . else.”
“Something magnificent.” I nodded at Opie. “Right?”
Opie wiggled with coyness until a full smile pulled on his lips. “Do you like it? Mistress Kitty left out a box of stuff I could use.” He motioned down to himself.
“I love it.”
“Madam Kitty?” Ash’s head jerked back to Opie, his eyes narrowing. “You were at her place?”
“They followed her there . . .” Warwick’s husky voice jolted against my spine with energy.
My heart thumped as I twisted to see him standing there, his chin jerking in my direction.
Fresh from a shower, his hair dripped, water trailing down his marred and inked skin.
Only a towel covered his lower half. Every inch of my body heated, my throat tightening as I tried to swallow.
“I’ve been hiding out there. Well, I was until . . .” Warwick’s sharp glance pierced me.
“You’ve stayed in touch?” Ash’s tone sounded strained, but I couldn’t pick out any particular sentiment.
“I’m not getting in the middle.” Warwick ran a hand through his hair, irritation radiating off him. “Anything here I can wear?”
“There should be something in the far closet. Though nothing is gonna really fit you. You sure you’re not half ogre?”
Warwick huffed and went back into the room, his gruffness on high today.
“He has the personality of one.” Ash winked at me, making me laugh.
“Heard that, asshole,” Warwick yelled.
“I know!” Ash shouted back. His easy smile made me smile. “Can I?” He motioned to the bandages. I nodded, too tired and in pain to care about modesty around a stranger. That ship had sailed back in Halálház.
He helped me sit up, slowly unwrapping the dressing, leaving the ones over my breasts in place. He inspected the wounds he had stitched up. One close to my right lung and the other around my kidneys.
“They’re actually healing remarkably well.” He looked up at me. I could see the question in his eyes as he grabbed a bottle full of clear liquid and started dabbing around the lacerations. What are you? You aren’t human.
“You guys have known each other for a long time?” I asked, needing to distract myself from his curiosity and the agony from the wounds. Their back-and-forth banter reminded me of old friends or brothers.
“Me and Warwick?” Ash continued to work. “Fucking forever. Knew him when he was actually somewhat of a nice guy. One you didn’t want to punch all the time.”
“Heard that too,” a muffled voice cried from the back room.
Ash glanced up at me, his sassy grin warming my stomach. His laidback, carefree personality laced with sexual cheekiness was easy to connect with. And it didn’t hurt that the guy was unnervingly gorgeous.
“We used to be part of the Unseelie fighters here in Hungary.”