Charred Tears (#2, Heart of Fire) (13 page)

“I think I’m a different story,” Chace said wryly. “I imagine you don’t blame him for wanting me gone.”

She pursed her lips together.

“Go, Pegasus,” Chace told the fully formed creature on the balcony.

The graceful, tall animal offered a quick bow and then unfurled its wings. It gathered its strength for a leap over the balcony railing, its haunches bunching. After testing its wings, it vaulted up and over the railing and caught itself easily with the long wings.

“I wish I could fly,” Chace said before he was able to stop the words. The yearning in his voice embarrassed him, and he cleared his throat.

Skylar was gazing at him, her expression a mixture of guardedness and compassion.

Chace sought something else to say. He wanted to talk about what he’d done, to get it out in the open that he would do whatever it took to make things right.

The words stuck in his throat, though, and he didn’t know if it was because he didn’t want to distress her even more this night or because he was afraid that – no matter what he said or did – she’d reject him.

At the same time, he needed to know if there was even the smallest chance they might have something. Chace prepped his words carefully in the thick silence.

“Sky-” he started.

“My two wounded warriors hanging out together,” Gunner said, pushing the door to the hotel room open. “I need to check both of you.”

Skylar’s eyes were riveted to Chace, as if she suspected the gravity of what he’d hoped to say. When he didn’t continue, she frowned and turned her attention to Gunner.

“You I need to check for a concussion,” he said, crouching down beside her. He flicked on a penlight and peered into her gaze. “Looks normal. You have any ringing in your ears? Any pressure in your head? Feelings of confusion?”

“Not from being hit on the head,” she replied archly.

“Sense of humor is always a good sign. Follow my finger.”

“I’m fine,” she said grouchily and pushed his hand away.

“Glad to hear. I found this in the desert.” Gunner held out a cell phone. “I mean this nicely, but get your ass on the phone and tell dragon-daddy to give me back my magic.”

“Just don’t mention I’m here,” Chace muttered under his breath.

Gunner sighed. “Fine. We’ll wait ‘til you have your strength back.” His friend shifted to him.

Chace sensed Skylar watching him once more. Gunner poked around Chace’s head wound and sat back.

Accustomed to the panther shifter’s blunt and brutal assessments of how bad his wounds were, Chace braced himself to learn his head was infected and Gunner was serious about chopping it off this time.

“How bad, Gun?” he asked.

Puzzled, Gunner examined his head one more time.

“Whatever happened out there, you must’ve tapped into your magic. You’re healed, Chace.”

“For reals?” Chace asked, reaching up to touch his wound. Where stitches had lined one side of his head, there was now a thick, knotted scar.

“Good. You’ll be in shape to meet my dad,” Skylar said. With effort she was trying to hide, she climbed to her feet and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Nice going, Gun,” Chace said, raising his eyebrows at his friend.

Gunner smiled. His dark gaze sparkled. “Off with the shirt. I’m checking your side to make sure it’s healed, too.”

Chace grunted and shifted to his knees, used to his friend’s brusque commands when dealing with medical issues. He pulled his sweater over his head and looked down at his side.

“Scars. That’s it,” Gunner said in approval. “So what the hell happened out there?”

Chace hesitated. “I don’t know, Gun. I felt like I was fevered again. Everything was a blur and then the griffin was flying away.” He shrugged.

“You kicked its ass, Chace. I’m thinking some part of your magic is still working. The magic refrigerator in the cabin, fighting off a griffin the size of a dragon, healing …” Gunner shook his head.

“Then why does it work now?” Chace demanded, irritated. “Why not when I was lying in my cabin dying?”

Gunner twisted to look towards Skylar. Chace did as well. The slayer was staring at his bare chest, a faint light in her gaze. The moment his eyes met hers, she flushed and turned away, returning to her phone conversation.

“If she’s really on the phone with dragon-daddy, you might want to figure out how to get that magic back,” Gunner advised quietly. “That man does not like you.”

“Oh, I know,” Chace agreed. “I understand why now. It’s not just because I betrayed his little girl. It’s because I sold out the Protector I was supposed to safeguard.” Admitting the truth aloud stung hard enough that his breath caught.

Gunner’s gaze turned warm. “I hate to say it, but you needed this lesson. She deserves the best Chace there is. I know how good you are, hidden beneath that damn dragon arrogance.”

“Are you encouraging me or trash talking me? Cuz it sounds like both.”

“Don’t fuck this up.” Gunner flashed a smile and stood. “Sky, tell your father I’ll be outside waiting.”

She shot him a look. Gunner left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Chace pulled his sweater back on, cold in the night breeze. He didn’t know where his relationship with Sky was at the moment, but he guessed nowhere near the stage where they’d be naked any time soon.

He watched her on the phone, visually roaming her body. She was shapely and firm, her skin softer than flower petals and her hourglass form feminine yet tougher than it appeared. He had the urge to bury his nose in her hair to smell her peachy shampoo, to wrap her in his arms and swear to her he’d do whatever it took to make up every wrong he’d done to her.

The idea she didn’t trust him, might not want him around, filled him with sadness that was like a cold, empty hole in the center of his being. He recalled what it’d been like to lose Freyja, and it wasn’t like this. He’d almost been relieved when she broke it off.

With Skylar, he wasn’t able to think of anything else but holding her, seeing her smile again, being the kind of man she deserved. His whole being cried out in objection when he thought of how that might never, ever be possible again, not after all he’d done.

And it hurt. More than anything else. She was a few feet away, and yet, it was like she was gone forever.

Gunner’s right. Sky deserves someone better than I’ve been.

Was it too late for him to be that man?

“Gavin is on his way,” Skylar said, lowering the phone. She turned to face him. “Gunner is right. He’ll shred you if he finds you here.”

“I know.” Chace drew a deep breath. “But I’m not leaving.”

Skylar blinked, brow furrowing. “That may not be a great survival strategy.”

“You never know. Maybe he’s warming up to me.” He winked.

She looked ready to laugh.

“If you want to rest, I’ll keep an eye out for him or any griffins,” Chace offered.

Her expression turned suspicious once more.

“No ulterior motives,” he promised and stood. “You need a break.”

She sighed, gaze going longingly to the bed. He saw the exhaustion on her features and repressed the urge to hold her once again. She wasn’t ready for him. Might never be ready for him again.

“All right,” she said finally. “I need a short nap. I’ve got a lasso, and I will use it on you, if you try to turn on me again.”

“Scout’s honor.”

She almost smiled but turned away quickly. Skylar crossed to the bed and sat, fumbling with her bootlaces.

Walk. Away.
No part of him wanted to listen, but he did it, crossing to the door and managing to close it behind him.

He released his breath, amazed he’d been able to do the opposite of what his instincts and libido were screaming for him to do. He needed to be near her, to experience her calming touch.

Right now, she didn’t want him there. For once in his life, he was going to respect what someone else needed form him instead of putting his desire first.

“It sucks,” he mumbled, leaning against the wall outside her room. He absently touched the healed wound on his head. Reluctantly, he recalled what Freyja had told him in the dream, that he’d have to earn back everything he lost this time around.

He’d placed himself in danger to save Skylar and been rewarded by a healed body.

I’ve got to put others before me.
It sounded so simple and yet, it went contrary to how he’d lived for a thousand years. His resistance melted when he thought of Gunner’s sacrifices to help him and Skylar in danger.

He stood close enough to the door to hear Skylar move around inside. The door didn’t sit in the jamb completely after he’d smashed it open earlier. Leaning his head back against the wall, he heard a faint sound.

Chace inched closer to the door and listened.

Skylar was crying.

The sound devastated him. He froze, uncertain what to do, not wanting to make things worse. Inaction wasn’t in his nature, but she didn’t want him in there, which left him in a quandary.

The sound of her tears, though, was his undoing. His heart felt like it was breaking all over again, and he realized with a combination of unease and appreciation that there was too much to how he felt for her ever to walk away like he probably should.

Chace opened the door. Skylar was in the bathroom, the shower running while she struggled to pull her shirt off. One arm was limp, the skin around the stitches in her injured shoulder swollen, red and angry.

He walked into the bathroom. Warm, moist air rolled over him, and he reached for her instinctively.

She jerked at his touch, twisting to face him. The tears on her face were from pain. She ducked her head quickly and moved away.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“You need a hand. I’ve got two.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Chace waited a moment then touched her again, his palm resting on her hip. He drew her closer then released her. As much as he wanted to let his hands roam her body, to soothe her pain by giving her pleasure, he didn’t.

She didn’t move or snap at him again. Chace ran his hand up her side then gently worked her hurt arm free from her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Her hair brushed his fingers. He automatically captured a few strands but just as quickly released them.

Skylar stood stiffly before him, her upper body bare if not for her bra. The feminine shape of her shoulders and tucked waist begged for kisses and his touch. Without her shirt, he was able to smell her musk once more. It was enough to drive his hormones wild and fill his senses. His imagination took off, and he began to think of all the incredible things he could do to her in the shower.

Her breathing had quickened at his touch. His fingertips tingled from where they’d connected with her skin, a combination of warmth and calm spiraling through him. He remembered too well what it was like to fall asleep with her supple body in his arms, the sense of peace he experienced nowhere else. It would be so easy to reach out, to take her into his arms for a brief moment and take the edge off his need to feel her skin against his.

Respect her space.
Chace forced his mind away from what he wanted and took one step back then two.

“You got it from here?” he asked lamely.

“Yes.” She didn’t move, not until he was outside the bathroom once more. Skylar turned to face him, troubled. The tears on her face killed him, but he kept his distance. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He closed the door. Not because he wanted to, but because the lost, hurt look on her face made him want to do whatever it took to make her smile again.

That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
He was uncomfortably aroused, physically aching for her while his feelings began to grow more clear.

“She’s my Sky,” he whispered, staring at the bathroom door. “She’s my heart.”
And I fucked it all up.

He retreated to the hallway, unable to tolerate the thought of being near her without touching her.

Chapter Twelve

Skylar didn’t know what shocked her more: that Chace genuinely meant to help her or that he’d done so without making a move on her. She stood in the bathroom, pensive and tired, not sure what to think about him or how hard he seemed to be trying not to be the ass he was.

Her skin quivered from where he’d touched her. He’d been beyond gentle when he worked her arm free of her t-shirt, for which she was grateful.

He’d stopped there. Was the desire he expressed during all their nights together also a lie? Why didn’t he want to touch her now?

Finally, she shook off her confusion and got into the shower. The hot water pelted her, and she groaned, hissing in pain when it hit the tender skin around her injured shoulder.

She stood in the shower, letting the water wash away the blood and grime from her day. It soothed her headache and the tension in her body, everything but her troubled feelings.

She didn’t have the strength to stay in the shower long. With a sigh, Skylar got out and dried off the best she could with one arm. She pulled on a terry robe provided by the hotel and glanced at her clothing.

I wish I was in a magic cabin or house,
she thought ruefully.

She opened the door. Steam rolled into the hotel room. She looked around, eyes settling on the form near the patio.

“Mason?” she asked, surprised. “You’re okay!” She smiled to cover up the disappointment in her tone. She was angry to realize she’d hoped to find Chace there.

“Relatively,” Mason replied, facing her. One of his eyes was black, and his clothing was dusty and disheveled, as if he’d been in a fight. “Wow. Are you?” His gaze was on her bruised neck.

“Yeah, great. What happened? Where did you go?” she demanded. “I turned around and you were gone. I went back to Caleb’s …” she drifted off, not wanting not bring up what she’d found in the study. “I got attacked by a griffin, too.”

“Griffin,” he repeated with a frown. Mason folded his muscular arms across his chest.

Skylar’s instincts tingled. It wasn’t the warm nudge she got whenever Chace was around. It was something different. A warning.

I am
not
believing Chace over Mason!