Chapter 30
THIRTY
Mystery buys time. Make them wonder what you’re holding back.
LUCA
My phone rings at six in the morning.
With bleary, bloodshot eyes, I squint at the screen and answer as soon as I recognize the number. “Harry? Are you okay?” The twist in my belly tightens as I hear crying in the background.
“We’re safe, but someone broke in.”
“Did they take anything?”
I keep my voice low, hoping not to wake anyone else.
I want to be sure before I rip them out of bed, since it’s only been two hours since we got home from the club.
Two hours since I collapsed on the air mattress and discovered it had more in common with a rock than a bed.
Two hours since I realized my feet hung off the end and decided to suck it up.
It’s only one night. We’ll tell Ciprian tomorrow—today, now, I guess—and I’ll curl up with Celine tonight.
“It’s not about what they took, it’s about what they left behind,” Harry says.
There’s a strain of unease in her voice; one I’ve never heard from her before.
“Three more angels, dropped directly into my house. I didn’t even hear them come in, Luca.
Anika is translating. But I don’t have enough room to keep them long-term. I don’t want to turn them away . . .”
“We’ll find another option,” I assure her, my head spinning as I push to my feet and grope around for the pants I kicked off before I crawled into bed. “Celine and I will be over soon to help.” And to figure out if whoever broke into her house is connected to the piece of shit trying to kill her.
I hang up the phone, padding down the hall to Celine’s room and easing the door open.
Alistair is lying on his back, sound asleep.
Celine is draped over his chest with her wings covering them both.
My heart swells. Fuck, they’re cute. Since they’re likely to gut me for that thought, I’ll have to keep it to myself.
Bending over the edge of the bed, I run my fingers up the center of Celine’s back. “Baby,” I whisper. “Baby, wake up.” I’m about to shake her shoulder, when I find myself flying backward and slamming into the wall.
Celine pins me there, her brown eyes glazed. She’s staring right through me. I grunt as my collarbone gives way under the extreme pressure of her strength.
“Celine,” I gasp. “I-It’s me. I won’t hurt you.” With no sign that she hears me at all, Celine moves her right hand to my throat and squeezes.
I hiss at the white-hot pain the pressure puts on the fractured bone. My basilisk stirs, rattling angrily in my chest, then freezes in confusion as it recognizes who’s attacking us.
Celine increases the pressure, and I see spots—closing my eyes in case my instincts decide to override my brain and try to protect me.
“It’s me,” I wheeze. “I w-would never hurt you. Never.” The words are jagged and thin. Getting them out burns up the little air I have left.
“Angel, snap out of it.” Alistair’s voice is tight and threaded with tension, but the pressure on my throat eases.
I suck in a heaving lungful of oxygen as Celine’s hand drops. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I whisper. There’s a new rasp in my voice. I crack my eyes open, but keep them on the floor as my adrenaline levels off.
Celine hisses. “Shit, Luca, I thought I was dreaming. I swear on my life I didn’t mean to hurt you.” With my eyes on the floor, I see her truth rune glowing on the top of her bare foot.
“You don’t have to prove—” I cough, then clear my throat. “I believe you, baby, you don’t have to go all billboard of truth to make me understand.”
“But you came in here for a reason, Luca,” Alistair prods gently, bringing the frantic conversation with Harry back to the front of my mind.
“Harry called,” I tell them. “She had an unexpected delivery overnight. Three new angels abandoned . . . inside her locked house.”
“But the wards,” Alistair snarls. “I oversaw their installation myself.”
“Angels operate on a different plane of magic,” Celine whispers, her voice shattered.
“I told her we’d come help,” I say. “Do you want to jump in the shower first?”
“Yeah. I can do that.” Celine’s foot disappears from my limited field of vision, and I glance up in time to see her run into the bathroom and close the door behind her. I wait until the water turns on, then level Alistair with a serious look.
“I need you to pop it back into place before it heals wrong,” I say, pointing at my broken collarbone. There’s a visible lump where the end of the bone is trying to push through my skin. Thankfully, it’s dark enough in here with the blackout curtains that Celine didn’t notice.
“Fuck,” Alistair says, dipping his head to get a closer look. “Do you want some whiskey first?”
I consider the offer and drop my head back against the wall. This is going to hurt like a bitch, but if I drink enough to dull the pain, I won’t be alert when we go to Harry’s.
“No,” I decide. “Let’s go down the hall, though.” In case I end up whimpering . . .
Alistair follows me out of the bedroom silently. The hallway is cool and dark, not a single thread of early morning sunlight slipping past Celine’s meticulously installed blackout shades.
“I’ve never done this before,” Alistair admits, a frown in his eyes.
“You’re not inspiring a lot of confidence,” I mutter, glancing at my bare chest and moving my shoulders experimentally. It fucking hurts. “I don’t think the pieces are overlapping, you just need to poke them back together.” I suck in a deep breath and tell myself to be tough.
“I can do it.” Ciprian’s voice startles me. I turn my head toward the living room, then hiss in agony from the sudden movement. His white blond hair is standing up in all directions, those eerie black eyes blending in perfectly with the gloomy surroundings.
“Look,” I snap. “Someone do it before it heals wrong or Celine gets out of the shower.” I need to get this over with before I lose my nerve.
Ciprian steps in front of me. He examines the break closely, then gently prods the skin around it. Alistair hovers at my side, his brows drawn tightly together as if he can’t decide if he wants to shove Ciprian away or let him take over.
“Distract him, okay?” Ciprian says, his voice uncharacteristically serious when he addresses Ali.
Confusion flickers in Alistair’s blue eyes—then he drops his mouth to mine, kissing me hard. His fingers graze my abs, a barely there touch that makes my skin pebble.
Shocked, it only takes me a few seconds to kiss him back. He moves his lips to the hollow beneath my ear, scattering biting kisses along the sensitive curve. It’s good. Better than good. I bet it would feel even better if his fangs broke the skin.
Sharp pressure replaces my pleasure, then blinding pain sears through me. I bite the back of my own hand to keep from screaming.
“It’s lined up,” Ciprian says. He runs his fingertips back over the skin, careful not to put any pressure on the bone, and nods with satisfaction when it stays put. “Shifter healing should take care of the rest.”
He’s awfully confident about that for a demon. I tilt my head, wondering why he knows so much about shifter abilities.
“You okay?” Alistair asks. He kisses my neck with a feather-soft touch that makes me shudder, and I forget all about the puzzle that is Ciprian.
My collarbone still hurts—really damn bad, if I’m being honest—but the dull throb is manageable. I force a grin. It feels more like I’m baring my teeth. “I’ll survive,” I say. Glancing at Ciprian, I give him a nod. “Thanks for poking it back in.”
He winks at me, charcoal sweatpants riding low on his hips.
“I’m happy to ‘poke it back in’ any time you want.
” Ciprian leans against the wall and turns his mischievous gaze on Alistair.
“I expected you to do a dance or tell him a joke, not leave half a dozen hickeys on his neck, but I do enjoy a surprise.”
“Alistair,” I hiss, bringing my hand up to my neck and poking the side he was sucking on. It’s tender to the touch. What was he thinking marking me up this way?
He throws up his hands. “Give me a break! I woke up to Celine pinning you to the wall like a butterfly, then got asked to set a bone.” He turns his glare on Ciprian. “And you demanded a distraction and gave me no time to think—I had to improvise.”
Ciprian claps his hands on Alistair’s shoulders, his face deadly serious. “If you’re going to explore impact play, you need to be ready for the consequences. Kink without careful preparation is dangerous.”
I laugh out loud as the expression on Alistair’s face warps from outrage to complete and absolute shock. “We weren’t. It was . . .” Alistair stutters, then knocks Ciprian’s hands off his shoulders. “You’re absolutely ridiculous. How can anyone take you seriously?”
Ciprian stiffens, his easy smile vanishing. “Don’t make any sudden moves today,” he says to me, ignoring Alistair. “It’ll take a few days for it to heal completely.”
I nod, wondering again how he knows that, then find myself more distracted by the rigid way he walks off. Ciprian just set my bone and left without asking why Celine broke it in the first place. Either he’s the least curious person in the Fringes, or getting away from us was more important.
The water in the shower turns off.
“You can’t go to Harry’s,” I say, focusing on Alistair.
He nods, running his fingers through his hair. “I know. Send updates and let Harry know I’ll be by after sundown to check on her.”
I overlook his demanding tone, knowing the stressful wake-up call has him on edge. It can’t be easy, knowing there’s shit going on but being unable to leave until dark.
“We need somewhere to take the overflow kids,” I say. “Harry doesn’t have enough room.”
Alistair nods, standing a little taller and rolling his shoulders back. “I’ll make some calls.”
I dip my head toward the bedroom. “There’s no reason to mention this.” I point to my collarbone. “It was an accident, and I want her alert.”