Chapter 7
Seven
Winter clenched his teeth, barely holding in a groan.
His body hurt. His back, ass, shoulders, legs.
It all fucking hurt. It had been a while since he’d slept like this.
He didn’t go all in for the extravagant creature comforts his brothers did, but his bed at home was so much better than this floor.
Of course, by the time he’d gotten away from Damon’s manor and his prisoner settled, Winter had been ready to lie down on a bed of nails if it meant he could catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Rubbing his eyes, he blinked and looked up to see Fox standing at the foot of the bed.
A towel was wrapped around his waist and his flame-red hair was wet.
His gaze flicked over to the open bathroom door a few feet away.
The bathroom was dark, but he could feel the warm, damp air drifting out of it.
How the hell had he not woken to the sounds of Fox showering?
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Fox teased with a wide grin.
Winter’s sleep-fogged brain finally caught up to the missing pieces. Fox was up moving around after Winter had been sure to secure him with the handcuffs before falling asleep. Shoving to his feet, Winter winced as fresh pain shot through his back.
“You okay? You’ve got to be in knots,” Fox said.
“How the hell did you get free?” Winter snarled.
“Magic,” Fox said, wiggling his fingers at him with both hands.
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.” Fox crossed his arms over his chest, drawing Winter’s attention to the fact that the sexy little elf was naked except for a towel that was now barely clinging to his hips. “Witch, remember?”
“Then why didn’t you get out of the rope at Damon’s?”
Fox’s cheeks flushed a little and his eyes darted away from Winter. “I’m good with locks. Not with knots.” He shrugged. “Any kind of mechanical lock, I can get through with magic. Rope? Not so much.”
Winter groaned and rubbed his face, trying to shove away the last of the sleepiness and fog in his brain. “Why didn’t you just say something when I handcuffed you?” He dropped his hand in time to see Fox shrug.
“I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you thought I could escape or attack you.”
“And why didn’t you?” Winter wanted to groan at the clusterfuck this had become. He wasn’t awake enough for this shit. Not that Fox was wrong at all. No matter how tired he had felt, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to fall asleep if he’d known Fox could move freely around the hotel room.
“Attack you?” Fox asked with a laugh. “I’m not a killer.”
“Fine. Why didn’t you escape?” That would have been a way more logical choice given his circumstances.
The witch looked a lot more uncomfortable with that question, his eyes darting away from Winter to stare at the floor.
“I had a lot of time to think while you were sleeping…and escaping doesn’t make all this just go away.
Right now, you’re the only one willing to talk to me about what the hell is going on and not beat the shit out of me. ”
“So, you stayed for answers.”
Fox shrugged. “There are worse reasons.”
“Thank you for not killing me in my sleep,” Winter grumbled sarcastically. This was all a mess.
Fox snorted, his flirty smile returning again. “I don’t think you would have noticed if I’d pulled you away from the door and left. You were seriously dead to the world.”
Which was more than a little unnerving. He had never slept so deeply. At least, not while strangers were around. Of course, he hadn’t slept much in the days since he’d heard about the prophecy and started making plans to infiltrate Damon’s house.
“How long was I out?”
“About five hours.”
The answer had Winter rocking back on his heels. Five fucking hours? How was that even possible? He could believe that he’d slept so long undisturbed with Fox moving freely about the room. The witch could have killed him a dozen times over.
“I did crush the mini bar,” Fox admitted with a wince.
Food. He’d promised the witch food. Damon and his band of assholes couldn’t be bothered to properly care for the key to their prophecy, which wasn’t surprising since Damon didn’t value any life beyond his own.
Winter shoved a hand through his messy hair. He needed to get his head on straight. “I’m assuming I can trust you to stay in the room while I grab a quick shower.”
Fox nodded. His expression was surprisingly serious. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. There’s no point. If it’s not your family coming after me, then it’s Damon and his people. I’ve got no interest in spending my life on the run, so I might as well stay and figure out what’s going on.”
It was a fair statement. He walked stiffly across the room and grabbed the black canvas duffle bag that had been lying next to the dresser.
It didn’t look as if Fox had disturbed it, but he wasn’t overly worried.
It held only a few changes of clothes and a small wad of cash. All of it easily replaced.
“Go ahead and order some room service. I’ll grab a shower and be out in five minutes.” He stopped and narrowed his eyes on Fox. “Do NOT answer the door for any reason.”
Fox lifted an eyebrow. “They can’t get to us during the day, though.”
“Not vampires, but we have no idea if Damon has any human helpers.” He held up his hand, all fingers extended. “Five minutes. Behave.”
The man chuckled and turned away from Winter. “I’m just going to put on my nasty clothes and order food. How much trouble could I get into?”
Winter wanted to groan, but it wasn’t Fox’s fault.
He’d been kidnapped and then kidnapped again.
Where the hell was he supposed to get clothes?
Digging into his bag, he tossed Fox a clean navy T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants.
They weren’t too far off in size, and Fox should be able to cinch the waist enough to keep them on his ass.
“Thanks,” Fox called, and Winter could only grunt as he continued toward the bathroom. He had a feeling it could be very easy for Fox to get into a hell of a lot of trouble in less than five minutes, and he was hoping the witch didn’t try to prove him right.
Closing the door behind him, Winter dropped his bag onto the floor and was a little surprised that the small tiled area wasn’t a total disaster area.
Fox was apparently a neat guy. The only evidence he’d used the shower was the damp towel hanging on the rack, water drops on the shower door, and the complimentary bottles of soaps that were now in the shower stall rather than by the sink.
He reached inside the shower stall and turned on the water before daring to look at himself in the mirror.
Wincing, he quickly looked away from the dark circles under his eyes and messy hair.
He looked pale even for a vampire. It wasn’t that he needed to feed.
He’d been sure to do that prior to leaving Hartford.
No, this was all stress. He was worried about his family, worried about Damon’s eminent attack, worried about whether he’d be able to save the people he loved.
The ghosts seemed to be even more agitated recently, refusing to give him even a moment of peace if he wasn’t already sleeping. Except for recently.
And now he had a fucking prisoner he had no clue how to deal with.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Winter nearly jumped.
“You want me to order any food for you?” Fox asked through the door.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You sure? A nice burger and fries? Or some pizza?”
For some reason, Winter found himself smiling at the playful tone of Fox’s voice. He’d only gotten tiny glimpses of it so far, but he had a sneaking suspicion that this was the man’s natural personality when he wasn’t being threatened and running for his life.
“No, Fox. I’m good.”
“Are you a vegan vampire? I can order you a salad.”
“No.”
There was a little rattle of the door as if the man was now leaning against it. “You’re not planning to nibble on me, are you?”
“No. Absolutely not,” he replied sharply. He definitely wasn’t going to bite Fox. Winter only drank from low-life criminals who deserved a good scare in life or his random hookups. Fox did not fall into either of those two categories.
“You sure? I might be yummy.” Fox’s voice had become a taunting singsong.
“Go, Fox! Go order food!” Winter snapped, fighting to keep his voice hard.
The door rattled again as if Fox had moved away from it, and silence followed. Winter waited and as he’d expected, Fox’s lilting voice drifted from the other side of the door again.
“Would you like me to wash your back? I’m happy to get all those hard-to-reach areas.”
This time, Winter let his laughter fill the bathroom. The man was fucking incorrigible.
“I’ll even get in the shower if I must,” Fox continued, sounding as if he were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice just for Winter.
“I don’t deserve your saintly generosity,” Winter called. “Go order your damn food.”
There was what sounded like a soft huff, and Fox muttered something about not being properly appreciated, but he moved away from the door.
Winter shook his head before he stripped off his clothes and stepped under the hot spray.
He washed quickly, not wanting to give Fox enough time to come up with a new reason to disturb him.
Though, for just a second, he was tempted to let him try.
Part of him had itched to jerk that towel away and explore every inch of the man’s sleek body. Or to pull the naked man into the stall, where he could feel the slick slide of skin against him.
Winter swallowed a groan when blood started rushing south.
He didn’t need this right now. He moved the water temperature over to cold and finished rinsing.
Fox was not a snack. He wasn’t an outlet for sexual release.
He wasn’t family or a friend. For now, he was a prisoner—one Winter needed to get more information out of so he could determine if he truly was a threat to his family.
Fox seemed like a nice, fun guy, and Winter didn’t want to kill him. There were times where he reminded Winter of Ethan or River. Both of his brothers’ mates laughed easily and often. And Winter would do anything to keep them safe.
It didn’t matter if Fox was a nice guy. Didn’t matter if he was completely innocent. If he was a threat to the Variks, Winter would end his life without further hesitation.