Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
With a shove, I felt myself being tossed back, the book yanking me out with a cry as blackness enveloped me.
“Brexley?” I heard my name called from afar. “Brexley!”
With a gasp, I opened my eyes, my lungs sucking in gulps of oxygen. Irises the color of moss peered down at me. Ash bent over me, his face filled with worry and awe.
Blinking, it took me a few moments to realize where I was, my mind feeling like scrambled eggs. I laid on the ground, having fallen backward off the bench.
“Are you okay?” Ash asked, his gaze searching me, making sure I was physically all right.
“Damn, Fishy, you hit the ground like a wet sponge.” Opie leaped down next to me, Bitzy’s head bobbing around in the backpack, her tongue hanging out even more. “Splat!” He hit his hands together. “For a back dive, though, I can only give you a two. Your form sucked.”
“Thanks,” I grumbled, trying to sit up, still grappling for air. Ash wrapped his hands around my arms and back, helping me sit.
“You hurt anywhere? Anything feel torn?” He nodded at my wounds.
“I don’t know.” My brain felt scattered, my skin still buzzing from the experience in the book, as if it really happened.
He moved in closer to me, his fingers reaching for the T-shirt. “Do you mind?”
“I was stripped and beaten in Halálház, used as a lab rat for both Killian and Istvan . . . so no, I don’t care.”
Ash’s mossy eyes met mine, a sadness flicking through them.
“Even more reason to ask.” His sentiment stirred emotion in my chest. Gently he lifted the shirt, frowning at the fresh bloodstains.
“You pulled your stitches. Though this other one is healing remarkably fast.” His hand brushed the one in the middle of my chest. “Don’t move.
” He got up, grabbed supplies off the table, and returned to me.
With a light touch, he unwrapped the old dressing, cleaning the blood away.
“What happened? The book showed you something, didn’t it? I’ve never seen it take to someone instantly. What did it show you?” His question brushed at my skin, his body really close to mine as he doctored up my wounds.
Opie had moved to his side, rifling through the jars he pulled down, inspecting the swabs and cotton balls like he was already turning them into future outfits.
“It kept me out today. It wouldn’t let me follow you. It’s never done that.” His eyes met mine, and all I could see was the man from the Fae War, covered in blood, deep pain cutting into his eyes as he howled into the night air over the loss of his friend.
“You and Janos . . .”
“What?” Ash jerked back, his eyes wide. “Janos . . . How-how do you know that name?”
“Janos is Ms. Kitty, isn’t she?”
Ash sucked in sharply. “What did the book show you?” I could see panic fluttering his chest, letting me know there were secrets he hoped I hadn’t seen.
“The war twenty years ago. The night the wall fell. Warwick.” I cringed, shaking the bad memories away.
His shoulders lowered, but his throat bobbed with emotion, focusing back on his duty. “That night still haunts me. Why would it take you there?”
“Not sure.” I bit down as he finished cleaning the wound, grabbing the gauze. “Did you know I was born that night?”
“What?” His chin lifted from his work, meeting my gaze, his eyes wide.
I swallowed, my head bobbing. “The exact moment the barrier broke, my mother gave birth to me. She died right after. My father said her body couldn’t handle the traumatic stress of my birth and the flood of magic.”
“She was human?”
“Yes,” I answered automatically, then slouched back with a poignant sigh. “I mean . . . that’s what I assumed anyway. What Uncle Andris told me.”
“But now you wonder?” He tied off the dressing.
I tried several times to swallow. “I know something is different about me. Even if I’m not fae, I’m . . . I’m something.” The last part came out a whisper.
“You are.” Ash’s voice went low too, his hand touching my jaw, pulling my face up to look at him.
“You are definitely something.” His throat bobbed, and he tenderly stroked my cheek with his thumb.
The same gesture he’d made with Janos. “I can’t explain it.
You are a light, but both life and death buzz around you.
Drawing us all in like insects to honey. ”
“Honey.” I chortled. “Never been compared to that before.”
He smiled.
“Will you help me?” I felt scared and fragile, letting myself soak in his tenderness. He seemed like someone I could trust. A friend. “Find out what I am?”
His eyes searched mine, his hand still on my face. “Of course.”
I felt the sudden hum, the change of air, but it wasn’t from the guy next to me. The door burst open, turning our heads to the entrance with a jolt.
Warwick strode in, his gaze quickly taking in the scene between us. My skin still prickled where Ash touched me.
Ash dropped his hand, standing up, but it was too late. The rush of rage swirled around, digging deep. Warwick’s presence coiled in on me.
“Move fast, don’t you, princess.” His voice growled in my ear, though he still stood in the doorway, silent as he closed the door from across the room. “Your fan club is getting rather large, don’t you think? You sure you have room for another?”
“Fuck you,” I snarled out loud, reaching out for Ash’s hand to help me up. “Wasn’t like that. Though I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
Ash’s head snapped back and forth, as though missing what I was responding to.
“Don’t you?” Warwick’s ghost breathed against my neck.
I felt teeth dragging across my shoulder, heating my body.
I narrowed my lids on the real man, trying not to shiver at the sensation wrapping around my nerves, my adrenaline pumping.
By now, I should have been used to him, but I wasn’t.
He entered, and he demolished everything else around me. Overpowering. Taking. Consuming.
“She pulled her stitches.” Ash forced me to sit again, ignoring the glare Warwick shot him. “I was cleaning and rewrapping it.”
“Is that what they’re calling it?” Warwick muttered, making a sound in his throat, yanking his gaze from me, moving farther into the room, dropping a bag on the table.
“What’s that?” I glanced at it.
“Thought you’d want clothes.” He motioned to the bag, his irritation still curling around me. He had changed back into his own garments, fitting his frame like a glove.
“You got me clothes?” I opened the bag, seeing cargo pants and a T-shirt, knickers, and a sports bra. “Was this at Kitty’s?”
“No.” He strolled to a small table, picking up a bottle and pouring a glass of brown liquid.
Warwick was someone you had to learn to read because he gave so little away. One-word answers would drive most people insane if you weren’t paying attention.
“Stole them?” Without moving or opening my mouth from the bench, I brushed the back of his arm. His back muscles tightened at my invisible contact.
“Does it matter?” he muttered over his shoulder at me, downing the drink.
Actually, it was the equivalent of getting me flowers, maybe even better, since the clothes were useful. He didn’t ask Rosie or one of the girls to gather me some items; he got them himself.
I fought a smile as I tugged out the sports bra.
“Not sure I can wear this for a while.” My ribs and wounds ached at the thought of anything binding them.
“All the better.” He flipped around, leaning against the table, his aqua eyes burning into me as he guzzled another large mouthful.
I met his gaze, energy ping-ponging between us, my skin breaking out in bumps.
“A kurva eletbe.” Fucking hell. Ash exhaled, running his hands through his hair. “And I’m supposedly the one with the overpowering sexual energy. Will you two fuck and get it over with?”
“Oh, is it happening now?” Opie darted out from the jars he was procuring, half-dressed in cotton balls and strips of gauze. “Bitzy would want me to wake her up for it. Do you need a vacuum?”
“A vacuum?” I turned to Opie.
“What?” He took in everyone staring at him, then started to chuckle forcefully. “Oh. Yeah. I was totally kidding. Why would you need one of those, right?” His cheeks flushed.
Chirp. Bitzy lifted her head, her fingers rubbing her ears.
“Oh, now you wake up and add your opinion.”
Chirp.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He huffed, glaring over his shoulder. “No one was asking you anyway.”
Chirp.
Bitzy glared back. “It was a misunderstanding. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“My head hurts.” Ash rubbed his head.
Chirpchirpchirp! Bitzy pointed her middle finger at the tree fairy.
Opie’s eyes widened at Ash. “Wow, she is pissed at you.”
“Thank fuck, it’s not me for once,” I muttered. Bitzy flung out her two middle fingers at me, making me snort. “Ahhh, everything is right in the world again.”
“Why is she mad at me?” Ash held out his arms. “And why do I give a shit?” He seemed bewildered.
“Welcome to my world.” Warwick sniggered, downing the rest of the drink.
“She’s not feeling so good right now,” Opie replied.
“How is it my fault? She ate my mushrooms.” Ash pointed back at her.
Chirpchirpchirpchirpchirp . . .
“Wow.” I breathed as Bitzy went off on him. “You don’t even want to know what she just called you.”
“You understand it?”
“Gods, I hope not.” I leaned my forehead onto the table. Again, I didn’t understand her exact words, but I certainly felt her meaning, and I was pretty sure Ash should sleep with one eye open tonight.
“I think I prefer the imp high.” Ash headed over to Warwick, pouring himself a drink. “Since when does my life consist of arguing with an imp and needing to hide my vacuum from a brownie?”
“When she entered your life.” Warwick flicked his chin at me, taking the bottle from Ash, pouring a healthy amount of liquid.
“Hey now.” I twisted my palm. “When did this become my fault?”
Both guys looked at me with their eyebrows raised. I looked over at Opie, who was back to fixing his cotton shorts, which looked like diapers, a gauze crop top, and his feet in fresh puffs.