MENA
One second I’m trying to mind my manners and be as invisible as possible given the circumstances and the next some huge, black-eyed Wraith is trying to grab my injured hand. My right hand has been smashed and snapped and crushed so many times over the years. And just for kicks, Iva would rub Morganite dust in my open wounds.
She was a peach, that woman.
I still can’t move my pinkie finger. I’m pretty sure I never will, and seeing the sharp talons of a fully phased Wraith trying to grab my hand… well, sanctuary or not, I’m damn well going to have my defenses up.
What concerns me the most about this whole situation is that I haven’t been in this house for more than an hour and I’ve already shocked someone. Granted, this time it was on purpose, but I’m genuinely fearful of the next time. I feel it building under my skin. That itch, that urge.
I haven’t felt it in years, but the burn is coming.
“What in the cold depths of hell was that?” I screech as I look over the edge of my hospital bed to peer at the man I just juiced. Everyone seems to have frozen just before things start moving at hyper speed.
Aurelia appears in front of me, looking murderous. Flames are licking up her arms already, and she looks about three seconds from turning the man who tried to touch me to ash.
The dark-haired guard steps in front of the King, ready to tear my head off if necessary. A low, rumbling growl vibrates from his chest. Evan and West look torn between the King and myself, and the brothers, Aidan and Ian, are trying to hold in their snickering. They’re failing, though, and the shorter one, Ian, can’t help doubling over and letting out a roar of laughter.
“She… she… she… well, that’s a crash and burn if I ever saw one,” Ian guffaws. Aidan, who was trying not to lose it, tosses his head back and explodes with a booming laugh. That diffuses some of the tension, but Ari is still mad, and the King’s large guard is practically grinding his teeth to dust.
“What the fuck, John? I thought Javier was a one-off. Do we need to leave?” Rhys growls from his perch at my left shoulder. He isn’t touching me, but his presence there is protective. Like a big brother. It would feel nice if we weren’t in the middle of Wraith-central with one of the King’s guards going all black-eyed on me.
The King looks almost smug as if a plan has come together perfectly. Iva would get that same look when I did something out of character that gave something away.
I don’t like that look. It gives me the creeps.
“I believe Mr. Crane’s intentions were of a more… affectionate nature than he portrayed,” John smiles, faking a cough to mask a chuckle.
“You don’t think… Shit,” Aurelia pauses. “We’ll talk about this later. For right now can you remove this bumbling oaf from the med bay until Mena is feeling better?” Aurelia asks, but she doesn’t exactly make it into a question. More like a thinly veiled threat wrapped in an ass-kicking promise.
I love my sister.
Her flames go out just before she reaches down and slaps the fallen guard upside the head. That rouses him and a long, pained groan escapes him.
“Ooooooowwwwwww,” he moans. “What the hell happened?” he slurs from the floor.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Asher. Are you new? Don’t touch the Aegis, numb nuts,” Aurelia chastises him.
For some reason, this irks me. I don’t shock people willy-nilly. Well, except for Rhys, but that was an accident. I could accept a hug from someone. Someone could hold my hand. I’m not a bomb that’s about to go off.
Well, that may not be true. I’m not a leper. At least that’s true.
“Don’t treat me like a child. I can defend myself. I just demonstrated that fact not ten seconds ago. You are not my keeper or my defender. Now, tell him you’re sorry for smacking him. That’s adding insult to injury; I already knocked him out. Smacking him is just mean,” I scold her before turning my body so I can see around the wall my sister is making.
Who knew someone so small could fill so much space?
When I see him, I’m struck dumb. He is no longer black-eyed or taloned. Fangs no longer tear into his lips, but the blood still stains them red. His eyes are the blue of a cold winter morning, and though he still lies prone on the cold cement floor, I can tell he’s taller than me, and that’s a difficult feat to achieve. His hair is light brown and cropped short, and due to the nice jolt of electricity I slammed through his system, it is sticking up in all directions. His skin is tanned gold and his nose is bleeding.
I don’t like that at all. Something about seeing the blood staining his upper lip, something about knowing I’m the one who put the blood there, makes me want to cry. I feel the biting sting of tears hit my nose.
“Are you all right?” he rumbles from the floor, his head cocked to the side. He’s frowning, a tight pucker of his brow and the sheer lunacy of this moment makes me smile.
“I should be asking you that. I’m sorry I shocked you, but you looked hostile,” I say ruefully as I shrug a shoulder.
“My apologies, miss. I mean you no harm,” he murmurs, and from his expression I believe him. His words are like a balm, soothing and cool against my skin. It makes the ache go away for a moment.
“Got a funny way of showing it, Asher,” Rhys says from the foot of the bed.
I didn’t even notice him move. I look around, and the room has been mostly cleared. All that remains are Evan, my sister’s tiny best friend, the King’s dark-haired, angry looking guard, Rhys, and Aurelia.
The guard makes me nervous, and a shudder of fear snakes its way up my spine as I shrink back in the bed. He is huge and hulking and stalking toward me, but everyone is looking at Asher and not the pissed off Wraith coming at me.
But Asher must have seen the fear on my face before I shrunk back because before the guard can make it to the foot of the bed, Asher is in front of him snarling. Not just snarling. He is fully phased; eyes the black of a moonless night, long upper and lower fangs descended. His fingers are curled, ready to slash, and the thick talons erupting from his fingertips put a lion to shame.
The thing that is most worrisome is the swirling black mist that surrounds him. I’ve never seen anything like it. He must have something extra, some other ability he is drawing on because the rest of occupants of the room are backing away slowly toward the door.
Even Aurelia.
You know, when the psychic starts to bail, it’s time to leave.
I move my legs as quickly as I can without making a noise (read: slow as freaking molasses) toward the floor. My legs probably won’t hold my weight, but with the Wraith death match about to go down in front of my hospital bed, I’m going to make a concerted effort to try.
“Stop moving,” Asher growls, and I have no idea who he’s talking to since he is still looking at the other guard, and the guard hasn’t moved an inch since Asher stepped in front of him. I freeze anyway just in case he was talking to me because the less I can piss off the scary man, the better.
The guard tears his eyes away from Asher and looks at me. I’m sure I look like a wobbly baby doe, wide-eyed and scared, but there isn’t much I can do about it now. He gives me a nasty superior look before giving Asher his back and heading toward the door.
Bold move. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing him again soon and not to exchange pot roast recipes if you catch my drift.
Super.
Now I have to worry about more than the evident psychological issues left over from my captivity. I get to worry about how safe I am. At least in my cell, I knew who was trying to hurt me. Here not so much.
Fantastic.
I am still staring at the door when Asher turns around. His face is back to his usual handsome self again, and the swift way he can phase makes me uneasy. It has been so long since I have phased, I’m not sure I can even do it anymore, but the way he does it is absolutely frightening.
His face turns from enraged to contrite in an instant. He must sense my fear of him, and I wish I could tamp it down, but I can’t. I hate that my emotions are so palpable to the people around me.
Asher leans over, his fists to the mattress as he looks me in the eyes.
“I am sorry for this, Mena. I promise you this will not happen again. I’ll make sure of it,” he murmurs as he reaches his hand out and runs a finger along my ruined pinkie that is clutched in the rumpled bed sheets. He gently clutches my hand, eyeing me warily as he brings it to his lips.
“You will be safe here. I swear it,” he whispers against the skin of my hand, sending chills along my arm and down my spine.
The softness of his mouth is in direct contrast to the roughness of the stubble on his chin as he rubs his lips in a gentle whispering kiss against my skin. He carefully places my hand back down on the bed and then stalks to the door like a man with a purpose. I don’t know if I should be turned on, afraid for my life, or seriously concerned for the King’s other guard.
“So this has to be the weirdest day of my life, and I have been in prison for the past fifty years at the hands of a mass murdering psychopath, so that’s saying something. Anyone want to explain what just went on here?” I say not taking my eyes off the door Asher just walked through.
“Anyone?”
“Bueller?” Evan says as she skips back in the room. She has a quirk to her mouth, a tiny half smile that is at odds with the pucker of her brow.
“What?” I ask.
“Eighties movie reference. You missed some good decades. I’ll catch you up on pop culture soon enough,” Aurelia tells me as she straightens the blanket back over my legs and smoothens the sheet.
“You still aren’t telling me what’s going on, which I’ve got to say, does nothing for my stress level.”
“I’m positive me telling you isn’t going to help much,” she hedges.
“Go ahead and give it a whirl. We’ll see what happens,” I prompt.
“Umm… Well,” she stalls, “Evan? You wanna take this one? Because I’ve got nothing.”
“Did you ever learn how Wraiths mate?” Evan asks me, and my brain decides it has learned enough for one day since her voice is replaced by a heavy ringing in my ears.
“You know, I think I’m good with my ignorance for a few more days. You can quit talking now,” I mutter as my head swims and my vision wobbles. I cannot possibly deal with what any of it might mean for me at this particular juncture of my life.
“So noted. No talking about a possible romantic future with a ridiculously hot dude. Got it,” Evan quips. She is a little spitfire, that one.
“You are the least subtle person in the known universe, you know that?” Aurelia grouses at her best friend rolling her eyes.
“How about you get some rest, and we can talk about your fun reentry into society tomorrow. I get to teach you five decades of pop culture. It’s going to be awesome,” Aurelia smiles at me. “Unless you want me to stay with you, because I can. I can hang here if you want. Are you hungry? I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich,” she asks, her face hopeful.
“No. I’m good here, and you stuffed me full in Oregon. My stomach can’t handle any more food.”
After Aurelia’s constant but gentle questions making sure I’m me and I’m sane and if I’m okay. Jesus. I cannot take one more ‘are you okay?’ or ‘do you need anything?’ I know she means well, but I’ve used my voice more today than I have my whole life.
Honestly, I haven’t been around this many people in a long time, and I need my space. Maybe then I’ll breathe easier.
I hope.