Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
W e fell two stories straight down. Even if I could have, I didn’t have time to yell before I landed on his chest. The impact rattled my teeth and every bone.
I rolled off Wald, expecting the worst. He’d landed flat on his back supporting my weight on top of him.
He should have been dead. At best, paralyzed for life.
He looked up at me, his golden eyes searching my face.
“You okay?” he asked, and I dumbly nodded.
Then he sprung up, I kid you not, picked his sunglasses up, which had flown off on impact, and hauled my ass to the street as if nothing had happened.
I stumbled to keep up, breathlessly wondering how he had survived that. Or me. What I managed to spit out was, “Where the hell are we going?”
“After Britannia,” he replied, waving at a car which pulled up to the curb.
I glanced back at the apartment complex.
Two cop cars were in the parking lot. They would get to that main room, and Agatha would be there.
They’d deal with it as a violent crime scene.
Of course, my blood and my fingerprints were all over it.
I was really improving my chances of a long stay in high security. Marvelous.
I got into the car first, and Wald slid in after me. “Carasella Hotel,” he said to the Uber driver.
I leaned into him and whispered, “I have questions.”
“I know. Hold them till we get to the hotel.”
“Why the hotel?” Oh right, luggage. That would mean clothes and a shower, and why the hell was I thinking of being clean when I’d just witnessed a death, escaped a demon and the police, and fallen out a two-story window?
Priorities.
Wald peeled off his jacket and thrust it at me.
I looked at it, then him, and squealed inside.
I know, ridiculous. With his help, I managed to shrug it over my shoulders.
The movement should have left me screaming from the damage to my side, but I wasn’t feeling pain now.
I gingerly put my hands in the still warm sleeves.
A purr undulated inside of me, which was even more ridiculous, but the scent of Wald and the heated leather was like falling into plush velvet or fur.
I rubbed my back against the seat and pulled the leather close.
He handed me a pair of sunglasses a moment before the valet opened the door.
I put them on and crawled out, the serenity of the jacket relaxing me enough I really didn’t care how the rest of me likely looked.
Wald was all lean and hard in sharp detail from the enhancement of the glasses.
He leaned into me whispering, “Keep your head down and follow my lead.”
It was amazing no one approached us, considering how ragged we looked.
We took a direct path to the elevators through the casino.
Wald’s arm around my shoulders gave me enough strength to keep going, and we made it to the elevator.
I held my breath as the two other couples gave us horrified glances.
Wald turned me to face him banding his arms around me.
I buried my face in the heaven of his chest until the elevator dinged at the twenty-seventh floor.
Traversing a myriad of corridors, we finally got to the hotel room that I’d never been to. Double doors and the name of some suite on a brass sign.
“Card is in my breast pocket,” he whispered, moving in close to me and keeping his eyes down.
I tucked my hand inside the jacket, feeling for the pocket. The hard plastic caught as I tugged on it, and I dug my hand in deeper. My fingers touched the cold roundness of the marble as I pulled the card out.
“What does the marble do, and why did you cover it in blood?” I asked.
“Shhhh, get inside,” he said, pushing me through the door.
I whirled on him. “Don’t shush me, or fricking push me,” I snarled, pulling off the jacket and flinging it onto the bed, realizing a second too late that my side and ribs still hurt.
I screeched as the pain doubled me over, rasping for breath, every rattled bone aching with the effort. The pain delay made no sense at all.
“I thought you fixed me? Why the hell am I dying again?” I asked, panting through the waves of agony.
“You aren’t dying. You’re healing, but there’s still damage. You’re going to be okay. I promised,” he said, unzipping the duffel he’d packed.
Oh yeah, completely understand that. But his definite statement that I would be okay sank in with the promise.
He pulled out some black clothing. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He glanced at me as if to check how I was reacting.
Holding my breath, I leaned sideways to examine my side. The wound was covered by the leaf bandage. At least it didn’t hurt much when I prodded it.
“What about the marble? Why did you smear blood on it? What is it?”
“The marble, as you call it, is a family artifact. I don’t know why you have it, or how you can hold it, but we will figure that out later. It needed to recognize you. There are other ways, but your blood was handy.”
Wald had taken the T-shirt off. He turned toward me, his unmarred flesh staggering in its beauty and leaving me speechless. “Why not lie down for a little while? Frank is a unique being, and the effects of the wound will likely wax and wane until they are gone. Time is our friend right now.”
My old world was full of monsters, but this one, with even bigger scarier monsters, I might want to stay in forever if that was my come-home-to-present. I found my voice again. “Who the hell is Frank?”
Wald was undoing his belt. I swear the air conditioning had stopped working. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead, and my hand came away grimy.
“An elder in our family, way back when there was a lot more power in the bloodlines. You might call him the Album Keeper. You bled on him and called him forth. Now he knows who you are. It’s kind of like you were introduced. ”
“And how in the nine hells was I supposed to know that?”
“You weren’t, but Agatha wasn’t expecting you to bleed on the album.”
“Then why the fuck did she give it to me in the first place?”
“Perhaps she wanted to see how you’d handle a precious family heirloom. Agatha loves to play games. You’d have to ask her. But we need to get that album back.” He grimaced. “Do you want to shower first?” he asked.
The low tone was close to a purr. My heart skipped a beat. “How about together? For speed?” I asked, cocking my head.
He laughed, further melting my insides. “I highly doubt that would speed things up. Besides the fact that you need time to heal,” he replied brusquely, sliding the bathroom door shut with a finality that ruined the moment.
I slumped in disappointment, scooting to the edge of the bed, careful to not upset my bruised and battered parts. I made it to the suitcase and unzipped it.
It wasn’t my suitcase. It was Britannia’s. I looked around, but there was only the velvet box from the car and Wald’s duffel. The bitch had taken mine. They were identical, but still…
I set the black T-shirt on top aside and pulled out the most stunning lace underwear I’d ever had my claws on.
The kind of stuff that costs hundreds of dollars and was made with craftsmanship, built like a fine automobile, the boning perfectly holding the fabric stiff.
It was fricking pink. Pink? Wait, that was wrong.
Britannia liked red and black. She’d stated that—hell no.
Why was she sporting underwear that Wald found attractive?
I dropped the bra like a cockroach, ready to stomp on it and kill it dead.
No matter how gorgeous it was, scalding pokers couldn’t make me wear it.
I rummaged through the other, thankfully, black and red contents, finding another sexy catsuit.
From the first silky touch, I’d already decided it was mine.
The miniskirts that I could wear over it gave me style choices.
I was deciding between blue plaid and black with flounces when the bathroom door slid back.
I turned with the clothing in my hands feeling like a kid caught with stolen cookies .
“The black, definitely,” he said, toweling his hair. “It’s all yours.” He nodded at the bathroom, striding over to the bed, the towel around his waist too well tucked for accidents, but I still marveled at the ease with which he moved. At home in his skin.
“Are you going to explain what exactly happened at Agatha’s? And I’m sorry about your aunt. I don’t think I said that.”
He turned, his chest a marvel of muscle and ribs. “Thank you. I will miss her. Artifacts are tricky. I’ll ask her what happened when we get the album back.”
“Huh? Oh.” The lightbulb came on. Agatha would now have a place in the album, and he might be able to speak to her. This passing thing had advantages. I wondered what her photo would look like.
Wald turned away and dropped the towel around his waist. He threw his hair back in the manly way a guy with long hair might—if you mixed that with an animal bristling its back to get the water out of its fur.
The fluidic movement was stunning. His ass, well, you’ve seen the statue of Michelangelo’s David?
No? Neither have I, but I’ve seen pictures.
Wald’s ass was the same smooth perfection.
I closed my mouth and hightailed it to the bathroom before he caught me drooling.
The mirror stopped me cold. My face was covered with little healing cuts, streaks of blood, and eyes with dark circles.
My hair could only be described as a limp rat’s nest made of string.
I pulled off the shredded corselette Wald had poorly re-laced, revealing the mess of my chest. With shallow breaths, I examined the damage.
The bruises were pink, purple, and red with tinges of black and yellow.
I might have sold them as modern art, but it was art I would rather not wear.
The bandage was still stuck to my side, and I decided I could keep it pretty dry by facing away from the spray.