Chapter 12 #2
“He will be fine, Nyx. He is a very difficult man to kill.”
“I know. I’m not worried,” she lied.
A pause dragged out between them, until Griff asked, “Do you think you will be coming home soon?”
She realized then that she hadn’t even told him she’d found Tristen. And even though her finding of him and his agreeing to help her was vital to Griff’s freedom, Griff hadn’t even asked. There was nothing in his voice other than concern for her.
“Soon. We found Tristen. I don’t know if he’ll help us or not.”
“You cannot make up another’s mind for them. He will help or he will not, and while you can try to sway his choice, it is his to make in the end, as it should be. All that matters to me is that you are safe.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I’m trying.”
“I know you are. You should rest. It is late, and I suspect you have a difficult day ahead of you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
She heard the rustle of his wings and knew he was about to hang up. “Wait.” She swallowed, something hard sticking in her throat. She had waited, once before, to tell someone else what they meant to her. She had waited, and she’d never gotten the chance. “I love you, Dad.”
His voice, when he answered her, was thick with emotion. “I love you too, Nyx. Come home soon.”
She kept the phone pressed to her ear long after the call ended.
Finally, she pulled it away and hit the off button.
Grabbing the cigarettes and Alihana, she stood and walked to the sliding door.
She was lightheaded to the point of nausea and her mouth tasted like the inside of an uncleaned oven. Why did people smoke again?
She stepped back into the penthouse and froze.
Kaden stood on the opposite side of the living room, on the threshold between it and the entrance to the foyer.
She was so startled she dropped the phone, the loud clunk of plastic hitting tile breaking the silence.
His head turned, taking sight of her in the doorway, then snapped to the bedroom as Tristen’s sleepy voice called out, “Nyx?”
Fuck. She spiraled down into A-Queltr as quickly as she could.
Something felt different about her inward journey, but she didn’t have time to stop and pay attention to it.
She was halfway down the mental stairs when a light flicked on in the short hallway that connected Tristen’s bedroom to the living room.
She ran faster, past the snow-covered cliffs, as Tristen came out using a pair of crutches, his face going hard at the sight of a stranger in his home.
She cursed the fact that she hadn’t yet mastered the art of spiraling into A-Queltr while moving—once she was there she could move in the physical world, but trying on the journey would make her have to start all over again.
She also cursed Kaden because he was just standing there, watching Tristen approach when he knew exactly how dangerous he could be.
Nyx leapt off A-Queltr’s cliffs. The second she landed safely on death’s ledge she darted across the room, throwing herself in front of Kaden just as Tristen dropped his right crutch and lifted his hand.
She caught that hand, absorbing the burst of Shamanic magic he’d primed.
Behind her, Kaden hadn’t moved so much as a centimeter in reaction.
Tristen’s face was still flatly cold, and neither the fact that he wasn’t wearing anything except boxers, nor the crutch he leaned on, in any way detracted from how dangerous she knew he was in that moment.
“Do not hurt him,” she warned.
“I told you not to bring your friends.”
“I tried not to.” To Kaden, she said, “You couldn’t have waited a little longer?”
“Your text didn’t sound like you. Evra was worried.”
She glared at Tristen. “And I told you to let me write the text. Or let me call them. This is your fault, so you don’t get to take it out on them.” She dropped Tristen’s hand and spun to Kaden. “Where are Evra and Morgen?”
His gaze fell to her chest—too late, she remembered her bra was somewhere on Tristen’s bedroom floor—then immediately darted back up. “I left them on the floor below us.”
She frowned, wondering how he’d managed that, but knowing with him it was better to be choosy with questions because he’d only answer one. So what she asked was: “Why?”
“Because I knew he wasn’t on it.”
“Again, why?”
His gaze went over her shoulder for a moment, and she knew it was landing on Tristen, taking in his barely clothed state before returning to her face. Kaden shrugged. “You’d care if they died.”
For a second, she just stared at him, his implication sinking in. Did he really think she wouldn’t care if he died?
“Since you are clearly in no danger,” Kaden said, “I’ll get them while you sort out…whatever this is.” He stepped back into the foyer, heading for the stairs instead of the elevator.
Nyx held up a finger to Tristen. “One second.”
Breaking into a jog, she ran after Kaden, catching him halfway down the stairs.
He stopped and looked at her wordlessly.
Being a step above him only meant they were eye level with each other.
Something hot and angry flared in her chest. “The next time someone who can literally kill you with a touch is coming toward you, do you think you could put in the effort to execute an evasive maneuver?”
He didn’t so much as raise his eyebrows. “You had it under control.”
“You didn’t know that.”
He shrugged. It was a shrug that spoke volumes.
“How did you know?”
“You smell different, when you’re in A-Queltr.”
“Great,” she muttered. She smelled like death to Hound senses. Fantastic. She also wondered how much Jevryn had talked to Kaden for him to even know A-Queltr’s name.
He turned to go.
“Wait.”
He waited.
“About”—she gestured upstairs, towards Tristen—“that. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
“It’s none of my business what you do,” he said it in a tone so level it left no doubt what answer he would have given if he’d answered her drunken question the night before.
“I meant it’s not because he looks like him.
” That was the one thing she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone, no matter who they were, misunderstanding.
That she wasn’t trying to replace Seth with a copy.
She started to add that it wasn’t going to happen again, but it wasn’t as if whether it did or didn’t mattered to Kaden.
“And I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Evra or Morgen. ”
He let out a short huff of actual laughter, as if the request was unbearably funny. “When do I ever say anything to anyone?” He started back down the stairs. “I’ll give Tristen fifteen minutes to find his clothes.”
Irritated at that for no good reason, Nyx climbed back up the stairs to find Tristen more or less where she’d left him. She didn’t give him a chance to say anything. “What the fuck is with you?” she demanded. “Do you have to go with a kill-first approach to every stranger you meet?”
He gave her an indignant look. “One, I was exceptionally clear that when threatened, I always go with kill first. It’s why I’m still alive.
Second, he broke into my home in the middle of the fucking night.
After you’ve been given to strangers, moved across the fucking universe, and sold to a sadist who cuts off various parts of your body as motivation, then you can judge me for killing first and asking questions later. ”
“You can’t ask questions of someone later if they’re dead.”
“But sometimes they don’t die,” Tristen pointed out. “Look at you, all not dead.”
“You know, I’m starting to get pissed off at you again.”
“That would be unfortunate, since unless I’m mistaken, you still need me to help you. Speaking of, there’s a trust issue we need to clear up. How did your friend get into my home if you didn’t let him in?”
Nyx blew out a breath. “One of my other friends on the floor below has Siren heritage. I imagine he asked very nicely at the front desk and they handed him elevator keycard access to your floors.”
“He just talked to them?” Tristen said. “And they gave him the keys to my home?”
“You can ask him when he gets up here to confirm, but yes, I’m guessing that’s exactly how it went. He’s very charming. Do I still have any chance of convincing you to help me since you said if my friends showed up the answer was no?”
He hesitated, and for a moment his face was unguarded. “I haven’t decided.”
She sighed and, after handing him the one crutch he’d discarded so he could have a free hand to kill Kaden, she stalked past him into his bedroom. “I need a bra for this conversation.”
The problem was, she couldn’t find her bra. After unsuccessfully searching all of the likely places—floor, bed, under the covers on the bed, under the bed—Tristen cleared his throat and pulled said bra from the bedroom doorknob, holding it out to her on one finger.
How the fuck had it ended up there? She snatched it from him. “Could you turn around?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Is this where I make a tasteless comment about how I’ve already seen them?”
“Only if you want to be a tasteless asshole.”
He turned away, disappearing a moment later inside a massive walk-in closet while she got her clothing back in order. He came back fully dressed and wearing his prosthetic foot again, so she guessed they were ready to talk.
“Just be straight with me,” she told him. “Do I actually have any chance of you coming back with us? If I don’t, I’ll get my friends and go, because I can promise you you don’t want to be subjected to Evra al’Daemon otherwise.”
“What is an Evra al’Daemon?”
“My best friend. I’m relatively certain entire planets live in mortal terror of her.”
“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out. “I’ll consider your proposal. What exactly is it you want me to do?”
“First, I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you is going to sound wildly implausible.”
“Promising start.”