Chapter 5

Rhi

"Tristan!"

I blink open my eyes, sitting bolt upright in my bed. The movement and an intense agony in my gut make me woozy, and my vision and the world spins around and around before finally righting themselves.

I blink again. The daylight filtering through the window is not bright but enough to make my eyes ache. Outside, the wind sweeps through the meadow and the distant trees moan.

The pain in my gut is intense, an ache throbs dully in my head and my body is stiff with sleep. Have I been sick? Did I go to bed with a raging headache and stomach and only just wake up?

Gingerly, I pull the bedsheets back, searching my bedroom for Pip, about to call out for my aunt, to tell her I feel a little better now, when a voice fills the room.

"Little rabbit?"

I jolt.

It's a man's voice – a deep, rough voice. It's not my aunt's.

For a moment, panic swoops through my body and then in the next, everything comes flooding back to me – my aunt, the man in black, the council, the academy, the attack, my fated mates.

"Little rabbit?" the voice says, much more quietly this time, with more trepidation and a hand rests hesitantly on my shoulder.

I flinch and dive from the bed, spinning to face the man sitting behind me and scurrying across the room until I hit the wall, my arms outstretched in front of me, ready for an attack.

Renzo Barone – the hitman sent by Marcus Lowsky – Marcus Lowsky who tried to kill me.

The man examines me, his mismatched eyes racing all over my face.

"Looks like she's feeling better, little man."

Little man? My eyes drop to the side of the bed, where Pip is up on his trotters, examining me too.

"Pip," I yelp, "Pip get over here now!" I wave at him frantically, wanting him as far away from that psycho as it's possible to be.

Pip grunts and ignores my command, peering over his shoulder at Renzo and grunting a second time.

"Yeah, still a bit confused."

"Confused?" I snap, "what the hell? – where the hell? – what the–"

Renzo raises his arms and I gasp, my magic sparking on my fingertips ready for his assault. But he simply smirks, lifting his hands right above his head and stretching, the vertebrae in his backbone cracking, and his dark t-shirt lifting, flashing me a strip of his toned abdomen, covered in a crisscross of inks.

That familiar hook in my abdomen tugs in his direction and I scowl. Familiar it may be, but it feels different too, all mixed up and confused. My bond is buzzing with energy and tension, straining. But it's also sore and painful. I scowl harder, my eyes dropping to my own stomach, until the thud of feet on the floor has me looking the psychopath's way again.

He rests his elbows on his knees and his chin on his balled hands.

"What do you remember?" he asks patiently, undeterred by the way my fingertips are hissing with magic.

I peer at my pig, who's lowered himself back down to the ground and waits for my answer.

What the hell is going on?

My head pounds and spins and I'm dazed and confused.

This is the man who tried to kill me. Yet, Pip doesn't seem to care and, if I'm honest, the man's presence doesn't scare me like it once did. A memory flickers through my mind, of the woods at the academy, of my knife. Then another of Marcus Lowsky writhing on the floor, and this man, Renzo Barone, sweeping me away.

My brow wrinkles. I shake my head.

"I remember … the academy. I remember the ball. I remember …" I shake my head. Is that right? "Dragons?"

"Yeah." Renzo grins widely. "Dragons," he says, his voice full of awe.

I lift my hand to my head, touching my forehead, trying to reassemble all the loose memories in my head, order them into something that makes sense.

"We were attacked. I was fighting … fighting with … Tristan." My bond sparks. Renzo sits up straight. I strain to remember and then I gasp, my hands flying to my mouth. Pain spirals through my body, and I sink to my knees moaning. "Tristan … Tristan … he's … oh god, no … he's …"

Renzo swings his legs. "Nah, I don't think he is."

I shake my head, tears bubbling in my eyes. "No, you don't understand. I saw … I saw him get hit." A sob tears from my throat. "By a bolt meant for me."

"Little rabbit," Renzo says, more firmly this time. "He ain't dead."

Pip squeaks his agreement, trotting over to me and climbing into my lap, licking at my face.

"Not cool, little man," Renzo says with disdain, "I've seen where that tongue's been." I hear the man stand, the bed creaking, and then his feet on the worn carpet as he stalks towards me. He crouches by my side and slides a forefinger under my wet chin, lifting my face to his.

"He isn't dead. I think he was very, nearly, pretty dead," I sniffle, "and that's why you've been so damn ill. But you're back with us now, so he must be safe."

"What?" I say, his eyes – one brown like bark, one green like the grass – swimming through my tears. The man is insane. It's what I've been told. It's what I've witnessed. And his words make no sense to me. Tristan nearly died and that made me ill?

"I think," he says, slowly, like he's explaining something to a confused child, "Tristan boy got hurt, very badly hurt, and it sent you, his fated mate, into a malaise. One you'd still be lost in if he were still ill, if he were dead. But seeing how you're making a lot more sense to me, and to little man, than you were an hour ago, I'm assuming, he's out of danger or healed or something." He shrugs.

"We're not fated mates," I say automatically.

"Yeah, you are," he says, pinching my chin. I swipe the back of my hand over my face, wiping away all the salty tears. His words have calmed me and I wonder if there are any truth in them.

"We're not bonded," I tell him and the corner of his mouth twitches as he notices I'm not denying the fated mate part anymore. "We never sealed the–"

"Bond? Yeah, I think you did." He quirks an eyebrow. "If you're worried that I'm going to be jealous about you fucking other–"

"I'm not sleeping with Tristan Kennedy!" I snap. "And why would I care what you thought?"

"I don't get jealous." He peers into my eyes. "It's not something you need to worry about."

"I haven't slept with Tristan Kennedy!" I repeat, louder and with more force this time. We've kissed once – for about precisely ten seconds – and he fingered me once in that moment of madness in the classroom. Neither of those were enough to seal a fated mate bond. The assassin might have guessed right about the fated mates part but he's wrong about this.

"Huh," Renzo says, rocking back on his heels. "You must have done it some other way, then?"

"What?" I say, my cheeks heating. If he means the fingering … He can't read my thoughts like Stone, can he?

"You must have sealed the bond through some other means."

Really? Is he right?

I concentrate in on the sensations deep inside my gut, where my bonds lie. It doesn't feel like it did before. There were two bonds, strong, connected, vibrant. And now, now there are three …

But if that were true – if we had somehow sealed the bond – wouldn't I be in agony right now, the way I was with Azlan whenever he first left the room. And sure, my stomach hurts a bit, but not like that.

"If we were newly bonded mates, I'd be writhing around in agony right now due to our separation."

"You were," he says, "I made you a potion for the pain."

I shake my head. "There's only one way to remove that kind of pain and it involves …" I trail off, my cheeks sizzling.

"Fucking? Ha!" Barone says. "Is that what the enforcer told you? He's more deviant than I gave him credit for."

"He didn't … it's just something I know."

He shrugs. "I made a potion. It made the pain go away."

I peer down at my stomach again, even more confused than when I first woke up three minutes ago. I'm in my old house. I have no idea how we got here and no idea where everyone else is. I reach for my mates through the three bonds, trying to find them, trying to connect with them, but the distance is too far, the bond too strained, stretched thin.

I huff in annoyance and rub at my stomach.

The man crouching opposite me watches the movements of my hand.

"It must have happened in the battle," I say, sniffing, "the sealing of the bond." I remember combining our magic, fighting together in unison, our magic so powerful it blazed and roared. So entwined and interwoven it was indistinguishable. When he was hit, it felt like I had been. It felt like my soul had been wrenched from my body.

I feel the ghost, a memory, of that pain now, and I wince.

"Okay, little rabbit?" he asks, alarm suddenly marking his features. "You thirsty? Hungry?"

It's all a blur after that moment, after Tristan fell to the ground. I don't remember what happened next, what I did next. The next memory I have is lying on the ground, staring up into the sinister face of Marcus Lowsky, of thinking I was going to die, and then of this man saving me.

Renzo Barone.

"I'm thirsty," I admit.

He nods, stands to his feet and walks over to my desk. A tray rests on its surface with a cup, a bowl, a glass and a jug of water. He pours me some of the water into the glass, the liquid tinkling against the surface, and then he hands it to me.

I take it, staring into its clear depths. I hesitate.

"You've been drinking my broth the last few hours – not a euphemism." He chuckles. "Bit late to worry about me drugging and poisoning you now."

"What broth?" I ask with suspicion, taking a cautious sip of the water.

"Something I brewed for your discomfort. You seemed," he frowns, "in pain. I didn't like it. He didn't either." He points towards Pip, sitting and watching us both.

"And how long was I out?"

"Several hours." He turns his back on me and spins his finger in the air above the cup, the liquid inside swirls and bubbles and then he hands it to me too. "Drink this. It'll help you regain your strength. We got to go."

"Go? Go where?"

He shrugs, shaking his hand for me to take the mug. "Fuck knows. Away from here."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He frowns harder at me. "Yeah, you are."

I laugh flatly. "Errr, no, I'm not."

"Little rabbit, I know what you can do." His unusual eyes twinkle. "You're fucking powerful. You were safe when they thought I'd killed you. When they thought you were dead. But now they know you're alive. Now they've seen how special you are too. And I'd bet you my knife, they're all looking for you."

"Who?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters."

"Everyone."

"Everyone," I say in annoyance, ignoring his outstretched hand and the cup of broth, "really helpful."

"You have powers a girl like you shouldn't have. That makes you interesting, dangerous, useful. To the authorities, to the Wolves of Night, to the other gangs, to whomever Lowsky was working with in the West."

I sit up straighter. "What do you mean?"

I guess he reads my curiosity and decides to use it to his advantage.

"I'll tell you all about it," I nod, "once you've drunk that broth and we're on the road."

"I'm not drinking it."

He holds it up and takes a gulp himself, his face screwing up in disgust. "Fuck, that tastes bad."

"You're really persuading me."

"Yeah, but look." He holds out his free hand. "No boils, no rashes, and I'm not convulsing, not dropping down dead. It's safe, just tastes like donkey balls."

I pull a face, one he examines.

He dips his head so we're eye level and the hook in my stomach hums, pulling me his way. "You're still weak, little rabbit, and you need to be strong. Drink this. I swear on your pig's life it's going to help you, not harm you."

"On my pig's life?"

"Yeah, I like him."

I snort and then watch in shock as Pip sidles up to the man and lets him tickle his ears.

"This is so fucked up," I mutter, taking the cup from his hand and wondering if I lost my senses in the battle, if I went into some crazy-ass dream after what happened to Tristan, one from which I'm yet to emerge.

But crazy dream or not, I don't think Renzo Barone is going to hurt me – not yet anyway. And as I have no idea what's happening back in Los Magicos, as I have no idea where my mates and my friends are – I think I have very little to lose by drinking something that might benefit me.

I take a sip, Renzo's face lighting up as I do, and then I take another and another. It does taste revolting, but it also has a warmth seeping through my body, fortifying me, removing the aches and the pain and helping to clear my head.

"This is good," I tell him.

His chest practically puffs with pride. "You think?"

"Yeah." I take another gulp, my magic pulsating through my veins. "Several hours?" I ask him.

He nods.

"And do you know what's happening in Los Magicos? Who those men were? The ones with the dragons? Are we win–"

Renzo frowns and shakes his head. "Too many questions, little rabbit."

I tilt my head and examine him like he's been examining me.

"Do you know what happened after we left Los Magicos?"

"No," he says and pulls his phone from his pocket. "There's no signal out here. And anyway, the thing died a while ago. You don't have any chargers in this house."

"We never had a phone," I explain, then remember the cell phone Trent gave me. The last thing I remember wearing was that ball gown from Tristan – a lump forms in my throat that I swallow away. My phone had been in my purse but god knows where that went.

For the first time, I glance down at my body and register the outfit I'm now wearing.

Not a ball gown any longer.

Pajamas.

"Did you undress me?!" I shriek, leaping to my feet. A smirk forms on his face. "Fuck, did you … did you touch me?!" I wrap my arms around my body, feeling violated and nauseous.

He looks down at Pip, annoyance and anger on his face, and I step forward, concerned he's going to strike out at my pet.

Pip squeaks up at Renzo and then at me.

"If you're implying …" he says, his voice tight and dangerous.

"You undressed me," I snap. "You took my fucking clothes off."

"It's what you do when someone is unwell," he explains. "You put them in something more comfortable."

"Sure," I say with sarcasm, remembering that I hadn't even been wearing a bra under that dress. Realizing I'm still not wearing a bra.

I wrap my arms more tightly over my chest.

"I was trying to take care of you," he mutters, staring at the ground sulkily.

I decide to change the subject.

"How did we get here from Los Magicos?" That too is a blur. I remember Marcus Lowsky falling and then Renzo, Pip in his arms, above me. The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed just now. If I was as unwell as he claims, I wonder how the hell he carried me through that battle, how he wasn't stopped by Stone or Azlan, how he managed to bring Pip and me all the way to my old house, and all so quickly.

"Magic," he says, looking up at me.

I remember him vanishing from the woods in the academy.

"I don't understand."

"It's something I can do," he says, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. "Slip from one place to another."

"Slip … what does that mean?"

He glances up at the ceiling. "If I concentrate real hard, I can hear, I can hear the vibrations of time and space around us. They're like strings, each vibrating to their own note. And if I concentrate even fucking harder, I can bend those strings and slip between them. Move from one place in time and space to another."

My brow crumples. The broth has helped, but I'm still dazed, struggling to follow his words.

"You can travel through time, go back in time?"

"Huh," he says, glancing back down at me, "I never tried that." He grins. "Bet that would be fun."

"So what do you do?" I ask in annoyance.

"Mainly travel from A." He walks to one side of the room, winks at me and then disappears from sight completely. I stare at the empty space and in a blink of an eye he reappears at the other side of the room. "To B."

"You can make yourself invisible?"

He shakes his head. "I jumped. From one side of the room to the other."

"And you jumped us from Los Magicos to my house, to here?"

"Yep."

"Then jump us back," I say, stepping towards him. "I need to find my mates and my friends and–"

"No."

"No?" I say with indignation.

"We're not going back to Los Magicos. It isn't safe for you, little rabbit."

I scoff. "How do you know? You have no idea what happened after we left."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not taking you back."