Chapter 17

17

When I opened my eyes, I was staring at the stony profile of Roth, and he was focused straight ahead, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. I was curled in the front seat of his Porsche.

I dragged in a breath. My thoughts were murky. “What...?”

He glanced at me and something like concern radiated from his golden gaze. “We’re almost there, shortie.”

“How...?” I swallowed, but my throat felt parched. I remembered what happened but had no idea how I’d ended up in his car. “How did...you get me out of school?”

One side of his lips curved up as he returned his attention to the road. “I’ve got skills.”

There was a good chance the school would call home since I was missing my afternoon classes, and my heart pounded sluggishly. More so because of wherever he could be taking me. I tried to sit up, but all I managed to do was slide further into a ball.

“You’ve got to take me back to school,” I gasped out. “I can’t go to your apartment.”

“Don’t be illogical,” Roth replied evenly. “A Nightcrawler’s claws are infectious, and I really can’t treat you in the middle of the hallway, can I? It’s bad enough that I have to drive. Too risky to take flight during the day.”

“I can call Zayne,” I reasoned, squeezing my eyes shut as my stomach muscles cramped.

He didn’t respond, and I groaned. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

Instead of Roth telling me not to do that in his pretty little Porsche, I heard the engine rev and felt the car push forward.

“We’re almost there,” he said, voice tight.

I didn’t want to go to his apartment, but other than diving out of the car, I wasn’t in the condition to put up much of a fight.

Things were a blur for a little while. Concentrating on not hurling all over myself, I kept my eyes closed. I felt the car stopping and registered the change in light behind my closed lids. I didn’t really follow the whole process of Roth getting me into his apartment building, which was a good thing, because I was sure it involved him carrying me.

“This is familiar,” announced a smooth, cultured voice as a door swung shut behind us and the faint scent of apples teased my nose.

“Shut up, Cayman.”

A deep chuckle irritated me, and I tried not to think about the first time I’d been here, sort of in the same position. “Look, I’m just pointing out that this is becoming a habitual behavior and we should—”

The slamming door jarred me and cut off whatever else Cayman was saying. A second later, I was laid down on a bed—Roth’s bed. I peeled open my eyes and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Seeing the familiar white walls lined with the DVDs and books that had been there before...the piano in the corner...even the macabre paintings that bordered on the disturbing...it was a punch to the chest and didn’t help with the sensitivity of my stomach. My feet dangled an inch off the floor, and I thought of the little vamp kitties who’d been both tattoos and pets. I wondered whether they were back now, hiding under his bed, prepared to sink their little fangs into any exposed skin.

I couldn’t be here.

As Roth backed off, I started to sit up. He shot me a look of warning. “Sit still. The more you move, the more the infection will spread and this won’t be an easy fix.”

My chest rose and fell heavily as I watched him go to the black fridge in his small kitchen. Opening the door, he reached in and pulled out a water bottle that had been stripped of its label. I watched him warily as he approached the bed.

“Holy water.” He shook the bottle slightly. “The demonic equivalent of peroxide.”

“You normally keep holy water in your fridge?”

He stopped in front of me. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

I couldn’t foresee a lot of situations when a demon would be in need of holy water. “Am I supposed to drink it?”

His face contorted in disgust. “You’re part demon, Layla. You drink this and you’ll be spewing vomit like a possessed chick. Since it’s normally used against demons, it can heal an injury inflicted by another demon, depending on the wound and all that good stuff.”

“Then what am I supposed to do with it?”

A small grin appeared. “Take your shirt off.”

I stared at him.

His brows rose. “I’m being serious. I need to put this—” he shook the bottle again “—on the scratches.”

It took me a second to respond. “I’m not taking my shirt off.”

“Yes, you are.”

Rising onto my elbows, I met his determined gaze with my own. “You’re on crack if you think I’m removing a single stitch of clothing.”

“Like I said before, crack is whack.” He grinned while I glared at him. “Your shirt needs to come off, shortie. The reason your stomach doesn’t hurt is because you’ve got some venom or blood soaking through your sweater. It’s numbing your skin and having venom all up on you isn’t really going to be conducive to healing. The top needs to go.”

I glanced down. With the darkness of my sweater, it was impossible to see if there was demon blood on it.

Roth came closer, crouching by the bed. “No need to be shy.”

“It’s not that,” I sputtered, forcing myself into an upright position. The room tilted a little and I closed my eyes.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you before.”

“Oh my God,” I moaned. “That is not the point.”

Roth sighed. “Look, we’re wasting time. You’re going to get sicker and this holy water won’t work. It’s as simple as that, so stop being a girl and take off your sweater.”

Prying my eyes open, I struggled with my erratic pulse. I saw it in his steady gaze then. If I didn’t take off the sweater, he was going to and that would be worse. I could do this. He felt nothing for me. Fine. I felt nothing for him now. Great. I was a big girl.

I muttered a curse under my breath and reached down, carefully taking off the sweater and tank top in one pull. As I dropped the oh-so offending material onto the floor, I cast my gaze to my stomach.

It really didn’t look that...bad.

The claws had just grazed me, but the three marks were a dark, angry red and tiny little lines were branching out from the cuts like veins.

After a few tense seconds, I realized Roth hadn’t moved. Where in the Hell was the whole “time is of the essence” crap? I lifted my gaze and saw that he seriously hadn’t moved at all.

Still crouched by the bed, the bottle of holy water dangled from his long fingertips. He was staring at me with the same kind of intensity he had in the locker rooms, but there was a heat behind his golden eyes and his stare was fixed on my chest. At least Bambi wasn’t using my boob as a pillow this time. Her diamond-shaped head was resting against my lower stomach now.

As he continued to stare, heat curled low in my belly, especially when his tongue slipped out and glided over his upper lip. Light reflected off the bolt and I felt my skin flush. I didn’t like what was starting to go on inside my body. And I didn’t like that he was staring at me, that he even felt as though he was allowed to at this point.

And I sure as Hell didn’t like the breathlessness invading my chest either.

“Stop staring at me,” I ordered.

He shocked the demon out of me by dragging his gaze up, the concentrated power behind his irises searing my skin as he rose. A moment passed and then he spoke. “Lie back.”

I wanted to resist his brisk tone, but the sooner I got this over with, the better. Easing back, I stared at the ceiling as I felt him come closer.

Roth hovered over me, and I fisted my hands in the soft blanket to keep myself still. “This might sting a bit.”

I gritted my teeth. “Can’t be worse than being stitched up, right?”

His gaze flicked to mine and he murmured, “Right.”

Holding my breath, I prepared myself for whatever brain-cell destroying pain was about to be unleashed as he unscrewed the bottle and lowered it to my stomach. The first drop fizzled on my skin and then the liquid sloshed out, covering the claw marks and running down my belly, spilling onto the bed beneath me.

Bambi jerked back, her head disappearing under the band of my jeans, avoiding the steady stream of holy water. My skin burned at the contact, turning a ruddy pink, and I bit down on my lip. It wasn’t as bad as the stitches, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.

“Sorry,” he muttered, tipping the bottle once more. He did so carefully, avoiding direct contact with it himself. I imagined his reaction, given that he was full-blooded, would be worse than mine.

The cuts frothed white as the sting brought a glaze of tears to my eyes. Finally, the water was all gone, and Roth was backing away. “Stay still for a little while.”

Breathing in and out slowly, I remained where I was until Roth returned with a towel. He was silent as he swiped up the excess liquid along the sides of my stomach. It was then I noticed the tips of his fingers were a deep pink.

I cleared my throat. “You burned your fingers.”

He shrugged. “It happens.” He didn’t touch the claw marks, but as he pulled away, his free hand brushed along the fading scar on my arm, the one left by the Warden. “Keep still.”

I didn’t have to wait long. Roth returned to my side with a black blanket. Like the one he’d wrapped around me the night of Petr’s attack, it was made of some kind of thick, luxurious material. He draped it over my chest, leaving my stomach bare, and then retreated.

“You’re going to need to stay still until the fizzing stops.” He sat on the bench by the piano and bowed his head. Locks of dark hair fell forward, shielding his face. He didn’t say anything else.

I drew in a stunted breath. A quiet, morose Roth was a worrisome Roth, because it was a rarity, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with him when he was like that. Part of me wondered at the mood shift and wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to come off as being interested.

Because I was.

And I sort of wanted to punch myself in the face for that.

As crazy as it was, while I waited for the holy water to do its thing I must have dozed off, because when I blinked my eyes open again, the claw marks were no longer fizzing. I didn’t feel nauseous or dizzy, just a slight soreness around the slices.

And Roth was sitting beside me on the bed.

Well, when I turned my head toward his body heat, he was more reclining on the bed beside me.

Resting his weight on one arm, his head was propped up by his hand. An odd smile marked his eerily beautiful face, a contrast to the sullen expression he was wearing before. His lips parted just slightly. “You still murmur in your sleep.”

My brows knitted.

“You make these little sounds sometimes. Like a kitten. It’s cute.”

“What are you doing?” Heat swamped my cheeks as I sat up quickly. Forgetting about the blanket, it slipped to my waist.

His gaze followed and he grinned as I yanked the blanket back up. “I was watching you sleep.”

“Creepy,” I said, holding the blanket to my chin.

He shrugged one shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Drawing from somewhere deep inside me, I forced out, “Thank you.”

“I’ll add it to your tab.”

I scowled at him.

Rolling to his feet gracefully, he stood and stretched. “Perfect timing for you to wake up. You don’t want Stony coming in here and finding you all content and happy on my bed.”

“What?”

“Stony. He’s on his way.” He folded his arms, eyeing me. “To get you.”

I blinked once and then twice as tiny knots formed in my stomach.

“I used your phone,” he explained. “It was in your front pocket. You were out cold when I pulled it out. Well, you did make this moaning sound that made me think you liked where my fingers—”

“You got my phone out of my pocket and called Zayne?” I shot to my feet. “Are you insane?”

“The last time I checked, I wasn’t. You should be thrilled to know that Stony answered on, like, the first ring.” His lips pursed as a thoughtful expression flickered across his face. “But he wasn’t exactly happy to hear my voice. Or that you were with me. Or that you were currently asleep on my bed. Or that you got hurt. Or that—”

“I get the point!” I screeched, holding the blanket to my chest. “Why did you call him?”

He tilted his head to the side and the look of innocence on his face made me want to spit fire like a dragon of doom. “How else were you supposed to get home?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Roth, maybe a freaking taxi?” My heart pounded in my chest. Oh God, Zayne was going to flip. He was going to flip so epically that it would break the sound barrier. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that we needed to let the Wardens know about the Nightcrawlers in the school,” he replied reasonably. I wanted to smack him. “Because that was your idea and you were right. I can’t possibly take all of them out all by myself.”

My fingers dug into the blanket. I wasn’t falling for what he was saying. The real reason behind calling Zayne wasn’t to alert them to the creatures in the school. Like Roth actually cared about that. He’d done it to piss Zayne off.

The little curve of his lips gave that away.

“I bet you’re so proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

He stared at me and then rolled his eyes. “It’s not like Stony is going to run and tell Daddy that you’re with me.”

That part didn’t matter. Not that Abbot would be anything like okay with me being in Roth’s apartment, but I was more concerned about what this would do to Zayne.

Somehow I resisted the urge to go psychotic tree monkey on him. “I need my sweater. Where is it?”

“In the garbage.”

Closing my eyes, I counted to ten. “I need a shirt to wear.” I started toward his closet, but he appeared in front of me, blocking my path. “Come on.”

His grin grew. “Sorry. I’m all out of girls’ clothing at the moment.”

“I need a shirt,” I insisted. “Don’t be a jerk, Roth.”

Considering me for a moment, a spark lit up his eyes and warning bells went off. With a sly smile, he reached down and whipped off the long-sleeve shirt he was wearing.

My eyes widened.

Whoa.

I’d... I’d forgotten what Roth looked like shirtless.

Okay. Maybe not completely forgotten, but my memory didn’t do him justice. At all. Roth was all lean muscle. From his chest to those indents on either side of his hips, he was hard, cut muscle.

The dragon tattoo was where it always was, curled up along the side of his abs, with its tail disappearing under his jeans. My question about the kittens’ presence was answered. One was under his right pec, appearing more like a tiger crouching, and another one looked as if it was snuggling into his side.

“Where’s the third kitten?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His thick lashes lowered. “I’d have to take off my pants to show you that.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

There was a deep chuckle. “Clock is ticking. And, more importantly, the longer you’re standing there in just your bra, the more I’m tempted to be a very, very bad boy.”

My eyes snapped open. His stare snared mine, and I took a step back from the intensity in his gaze. There was no doubt in my mind he was telling the truth there. He may not want to be with me, but he wanted me.

“Give me the shirt,” I said between clenched teeth.

He tossed it at me, but I was a little slow on the uptake. The material that smelled like him, like something wild and sinful, smacked me in the chest and landed on the floor. “You better hurry. He’ll be here any second.”

“You’re an ass,” I spat, picking up the shirt.

He chuckled. “And it’s a fine ass, I’m told.”

I ignored that as I turned around, giving him my back as I dropped the blanket. Maybe it was my imagination, but my spine burned under his consuming stare. “Why did you even have him come here, to a building full of demons? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“He’ll park down the street and come in via the roof,” Roth replied, voice suddenly tight. “Don’t worry. Stony is completely safe.”

Slipping Roth’s shirt on, I was immediately swallowed by the size of it and by his scent. I turned back to him, feeling flushed. I didn’t even know what to say as I sat on the edge of the bed. There was no way I could even prepare myself for Zayne’s arrival.

Not that I had to wait very long.

Didn’t take more than a minute before the heavy thump from the roof rattled the twisted paintings hanging on Roth’s walls. I stood as Roth turned to the narrow door that led up to the roof. Without ceremony, he opened it and Zayne stormed into the loft.

His blond hair was a wavy mess, and he was dressed all in black—black T-shirt, black tactical pants. It was as if he’d dressed to go hunting.

Zayne’s gaze found me first and he didn’t look away for a long moment. His eyes were startling cobalt, pupils stretched vertically, and his jaw was clamped shut. I didn’t need to read his mind to know what he thought of seeing me in a currently shirtless Roth’s apartment, by his bed and wearing his shirt.

I started to explain why, even though it seemed unnecessary, but before I could utter a word, Roth spoke.

His smile was wide, but didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, bro...”

A muscle ticked along Zayne’s jaw and then he spun on Roth, cocked back his arm and punched him right in the face.