Lost Girl: Hidden Book One (24 page)

I was silent. He stood there, not looking at me. “Bren. This is all about to come to an end. It has to. We need you. Once this is over, take all the time you need. I plan on doing the same. But we need you. I need your help,” I said, words that had never left my lips before. “We’ve already lost so much.”

He finally looked at me, then. Nodded. “Loft, or your house?”

“My house. I can get changed and cleaned up there.” He helped me stand up, and I tried again not to recoil from his touch. We paused for a moment while I waited for the dizziness to pass. “I think this is one of those things Nain doesn’t need to know about,” I said after a while, as we started to walk toward my car.

“You’re going to lie to him?” he asked, supporting me as I dug through my pockets for my car keys.

“I’ll tell him we fought the Puppeteer and won. He doesn’t need to know the details.” I could only imagine how he’d come down on Brennan then. I could feel how he was feeling. He hated himself enough without Nain adding to it.

I looked up to see Brennan staring at me, eyes still haunted. “Are you sure?”

“There’s plenty he keeps from me, believe me,” I said, getting in on the passenger side and handing him my keys. He helped me swing my injured leg into the car and closed the door. I breathed against the panic that tried to set in as he got into the car with me and closed his door. I closed my eyes, forced tears back again. This was not the time to fall apart.

Maybe later.

Brennan and I didn’t exchange a single word on the way to my house. I gripped the passenger side door as he drove, fast, but still carefully, through the neighborhoods. I rolled my window down, just tried to remember to breathe.

My leg still ached. I wondered if we’d managed to get it back together right. Dahael had done the best she could, but sticking ones’ hands into a gaping wound to try to set a bone is hardly a surgical-quality repair. All I knew was, it hurt.

The imps sat in the back seat. Silent. I glanced over at Brennan. His hands gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. I didn’t have to be able to read emotions to know how he was feeling right then. His face was pale, jaw set. His easy grin was nowhere in sight now.

I looked away, watched houses and trees blur as we zipped past them.

When we got to my house, he jumped out of the car and jogged over to my side to help me. I was already up and out.

“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” I said, trying not to visibly recoil from him again. I started walking toward the house, limping on my bad leg. It had stopped bleeding, and the skin had healed itself. The rest would take a while. Brennan walked behind me, ready to catch me if I fell. He kept his hands away from me, though, and I was grateful for it.

He followed me into the house and up the stairs.

“I’ll be outside,” he said once I was in my room. Then he turned and left without another word.

I ran a hot bath and settled into it, lowering myself gingerly into the old-fashioned claw foot tub. The water was almost too hot. The heat soothed my aching body, made me feel a little less disgusting.

I ran a sponge over my body, dunked my head under the water and washed my hair. Then I settled back and closed my eyes.

I was just drifting off when I felt Nain’s presence nearby, then, sure enough, heavy footsteps on the stairs. I sensed for Brennan. Gone, far enough away that I couldn’t feel him anymore.

Nain knocked at the door. “Molly?”

“Come on in.” I glanced at the tub. Bubbles still covered the surface of the water. It shouldn’t have mattered. The man had seen every inch of my body. But right then, I couldn’t stand the idea of being seen.

The door opened, and he came in, filling my small bathroom with his body, his power. He glanced at me, then knelt next to the tub, picked up the sponge from the small tray across the tub. “Want me to do your back?” he asked.

I nodded, sat forward enough so he could get to my back. He dipped the sponge in the hot water, started to gently scrub my back.

“Brennan couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” he finally said, rubbing the sponge over my shoulders. I let my head hang forward, and he washed the back of my neck.

“Did he say anything to you?” I asked.

“Only that I should take care of you,” he said.

We were quiet for a while. “We fought the Puppeteer,” I finally said. “We won.”

His hand stopped. Surprise, concern. “You should both be really happy, then. She was a big piece of the puzzle. You both look like someone just died.”

I shrugged. “It was a hard fight. We almost didn’t win.”

“You were in a lot of pain. It was crippling,” he said. I’d forgotten that he could feel me through our marriage bond now.

“Yeah. It was rough,” I said, not knowing what else to say. He went back to washing my back, slow, methodical strokes. “Did you know she was screwing Astaroth?”

“Yeah. They’ve been together for a really long time.”

“And you didn’t think that was worth sharing with me?”

“Why did you two come here? Why didn’t you come back to the loft when you were done?”

“You didn’t answer my question. Again,” I said.

“Answer mine first.”

“We came here because I was out of clothes again and I was gross and wanted to get cleaned up. He stayed because you two both seem to think I need someone watching my back all the time. Satisfied?”

“Not really. He looked guilty about something. And you are nervous. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Join the club,” I muttered, shoving his hand away from my shoulder.

He stood up and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m not going to tell you everything. You know that. I have my reasons.”

“And I’m just supposed to be okay with that?”

“It’s the way it is. I tell you what you need to know.”

I stared at him. “Are you serious? We did this goddamned marriage bond thing and you still can’t be straight with me?”

“Did you think marrying me would change me?” He laughed. “Come on, little girl. You know me better than that.”

“If….fine. Forget it.” I’d almost said it. Almost let a whiny “if you really loved me…” escape my lips. I was tired. I was still freaking out over what I’d just been through. I felt weak. That had to be it.

“I love you. You know I do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Astaroth and the Puppeteer?”

He growled, looked up at the ceiling in irritation. “Because I really didn’t think it mattered. Did it?”

“It kind of did. She was going to give me to him as an anniversary present.”

“So? The vampire wanted to give you to Astaroth, too, and they weren’t sleeping together. At least, I don’t think they were.” He shrugged.

“Astaroth isn’t the one who wants me, though,” I said.

Nain stilled. “What are you talking about?”

“The Puppeteer said he’s basically just the headhunter. Someone else wants me, and it’s Astaroth’s job to bring me in.”

“That can’t be right. Astaroth’s no one’s errand boy,” he said, shaking his head.

“Why else would she say it, then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because she’s a crazy bitch?”

“Maybe Astaroth lied to her. Maybe it’s a demon thing,” I said, standing up and grabbing a towel off of the towel bar. I wrapped it around my body and stalked toward my room. My leg still hurt, but at least I wasn’t limping.

“Maybe she can’t follow simple orders and he’s not entirely sure he can trust her,” he shouted at me as I slammed my bedroom door.

“Just leave, Nain,” I shouted back at him. “This is the last thing I need right now.”

“Right. Should I have Brenny-poo come back?” he roared.

“How about you both just stay away?” I screeched at him. The house groaned and creaked around me. My power was at a fever pitch.

I heard his footsteps as he headed down the stairs, heard him slam the back door. A few seconds later, he gunned the truck’s engine and roared off down the street.

Chapter Fifteen

I threw on a pair of soft pajama pants and a tank top and crawled between my soft, cool cotton sheets. Turned the light out and laid there. Sleep wouldn’t come. I watched the shadows of tree branches dance across my walls. I could hear the imps downstairs, watching Letterman, then some crappy late night movie. They seemed to like hokey old horror movies. Twilight Zone was a big hit, too.

I heard Nain’s truck pull into the driveway a little after two. He walked in and climbed the stairs.

He opened the bedroom door, and I heard him rustling around, removing shoes, clothing. He climbed into bed next to me, and pulled me into his arms. Part of me wanted to melt against him, take the strength and warmth I so badly needed. Part of me was furious with him for all of the shit that had happened that day. For not trusting me. For not being what I needed him to be.

We laid there in silence for a long time, his body cocooning mine, his scent surrounding me.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Molly,” he murmured against my hair as he buried his face into it. “I love you. I trust you. I’m sorry I’m an asshole. Believe it or not, I am trying not to be.”

I felt tears sting my eyes. I felt myself strengthening, felt more alive just from being near him. Partly because of the weird connection we had, the way he could feed me with his ever-present anger. But mostly because I loved him. He infuriated me. He made me crazy. All I knew was that things seemed less nightmarish with him at my side.

I ran my fingertips over his forearms, and he held me tighter, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“This will all be over soon,” he said after a while.

“And then we get our happily ever after,” I said. I felt my eyelids getting heavy. “We should find a nice little secluded cabin in the woods. Somewhere with a little lake nearby. We can skinny dip whenever we want, and fall asleep in front of a roaring fire. And we can just stay there forever.” I yawned, and he kissed my shoulder.

“That sounds as close to heaven as I’m ever going to get,” Nain said.

I smiled and finally drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, I was alone in bed. But I smelled coffee and bacon, and I heard the oldies station playing on the kitchen radio. Nain had an affinity for Motown stuff from the 50s and 60s. I smiled. Couldn’t fault his taste in music.

I got up, dressed in jeans and a long sleeved black top. I brushed my hair out, but left it down. I wanted to feel Nain’s fingers running through it, and I knew I would. He couldn’t resist doing that.

I was strong, strengthened from spending the night next to him, feeding and healing. My leg was a little sore still, but I was sure now that it would heal completely. I tried not to think about how it had happened. I’d had one nightmare about it the night before, a dream in which Brennan came after me again and again, broke so many bones that I was unable to move at all anymore. I woke with a start as he transformed into a bear and was about to tear into my throat. Nain had pulled me closer to him, murmured that it was okay, he was there, and we’d both drifted back off to sleep.

I went downstairs, strolled into the kitchen. He was plating up bacon and eggs, toast. He smiled at me when he saw me, and I walked over and kissed him, slow and soft. Desire flooded him, me. I bit his lower lip, gently, before drawing away, and felt a spike of need from him.

“You like it when I bite you,” I said, laughing.

He groaned a little, tweaked my hip as I walked past him. I sat down and he placed a plate in front of me, poured a cup of coffee and added plenty of cream and sugar, just the way I liked it. We sat down and ate in companionable silence, listening to the morning DJs banter with each other between music by the Four Tops and the Jackson 5. I sensed for him. He was tense, as always. Undercurrent of rage that was just Nain, even when he was happy. Demon. Nervous. A little sad.

I glanced up at him. “How are you holding up?”

He shook his head. “I still can’t really believe she’s gone. She came to me when she was fifteen, scrawny little kid terrified of herself. Ada was thrilled to have a girl to raise, finally. And then George came to me, and they were inseparable.  I can’t believe George…” he shook his head again. “I never knew losing someone was this hard. I don’t think I really was able to feel a lot of this shit until you came into my life.”

“We seem to have changed each other quite a bit, then,” I said, meeting his eyes.

He was silent for a while. Then, “I think we should do the marriage ritual again.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Once was not enough?”

“It was. But I want….I want to feel more of you in me.” He swallowed, and I got a sense from him. Mourning.

“You’re thinking of George and Veronica again.”

He didn’t answer.

I stood up, pulled up my sleeve. I grabbed one of my knives from the counter. Then I rifled through the old first aid kit I kept under the sink, came up with an ace bandage.

I walked over to Nain, nudged him, and he pushed his chair back from the table. Once we had room, I straddled his lap, sat down and felt his legs, strong and solid under mine. I met his eyes, slashed my right wrist in one quick movement. He did the same, and we joined the wounds together, just as we had on our wedding night. We wrapped our wrists, sat there, rested our foreheads against each other. I felt his blood flow into me, and contentment flowed through him as my blood entered his body. Shivers went up my spine.