Stone Cold Seduction (27 page)

“Before I saw you ten years ago, your father hired me. An open-ended contract. It’s common for hunters.”

“To hire out like mercenaries? Interesting.” I didn’t try to rein in the scathing edge to my tone.

“No, not mercenaries. We offer our services, typically as bodyguards. When the Council doesn’t need us.”

“Right. A mercenary. I thought common gargoyles did that.”

“They do. So do hunters. A gargoyle hunter is a bonus.”

I remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“When my parents died, I lived with my mother’s family. They have been Jedren’s bodyguards for decades.” He looked at me expectantly.

“You are just now getting around to telling me this? Now that I’ve been trapped by my father,
with your help
? Ten seconds.”

“Damn it,” he bit out. “I can’t explain this in a minute.”

“Goodbye, Jax.” And I turned and walked away. I kept my spine straight, though the pain inside begged for me to curl up and bawl my eyes out.

Right before my hand reached the doorknob, I heard him call out. “You’re mine. I won’t give up on us.” The deep, ragged tone tore through me, but I ruthlessly ignored him.

I didn’t hesitate as I walked through the door and out of his life. I let the door close behind me with a soft thud.

And I left my heart behind.

Chapter Twenty

My father’s castle was two hours outside of Edinburgh. Two hours and a long, brutal drive away from the nearest doctor. I braved the rough, winding, bumpy ride with only the occasional whimper. As soon as we’d pulled away, my headache had throbbed with a vengeance. Like I needed a reminder. The lush, green scenery was a blur as my eyes teared up from pain. I might have even passed out a time or two.

Teryl, best friend that he was, would shake me awake.

“What time is it?”

“It’s about ten o’clock. You need to stay awake until we get you to town.”

“I deserve a nap,” I muttered, trying to close my eyes for a third time. They were so heavy, and I was so very tired.

“You deserve a lot more than a nap, but we need to get you to a doctor first.”

Teryl and I were in the backseat while MacLean drove. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, and he would uncurl them, then return them to the white-knuckled grip. It was an odd detail to notice, but it surprised me. He showed no other sign of agitation.

His copper eyes stared straight ahead. I could only see his profile, but his jaw clenched and unclenched. His auburn hair was a bit messy, as if he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly.

MacLean was silent. Had been since we left. Maybe he was disgusted by my behavior. I knew I was. I’d capitulated too easily. I should have told Jedren that I wanted it all in writing with his personal guarantee.

I could still get that. Teryl could help me with the details. He was good at contracts. I didn’t want to miss a thing. My father specialized in screwing people over, and too much was on the line for me to mess up now. Jedren had handed me an opportunity, and he didn’t even know it.

I rolled my head so I could look at Teryl. “I punched Luke in the nuts.”

He gave a short, startled bark of laughter, causing me to wince. Even MacLean cracked a smile.

I rolled my head back, staring at the road ahead. “Dropped him. It was a beautiful sight.”

“You hit someone? Damn, I wish I could have seen that.” Teryl sounded impressed, if a bit subdued.

I guess I was over the whole violence-makes-me-sick issue. “Do all guys squeal when hit there?”

Teryl cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Why? Are you planning to practice on us?”

I rewarded him with a small smile. “No, big guy. Just curious. I might make it my signature move. Instead of having a weapon to name.”

“Then yes, most guys will make a sound like that. Or some variation.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “Luke would have killed me for it, if Jedren hadn’t shown up.”

Teryl remained silent, which was just as well. I regretted bringing it up. No need to revisit the ugliness of the last few hours. Living it had been bad enough. I guess I just wanted them to know I’d tried. At least a little.

“Is Luke the one who marked you? Before?”

My eyes flew open when MacLean spoke. It took me a couple tries to say, “Why do you ask that?”

He glanced at me in the rear view mirror. “I tended your wounds a couple times. Your back was always…in bad shape. You don’t remember me doing that?”

“No,” I whispered. And I didn’t want to.

I suddenly craved a bath. I’d use my favorite bath salts for relaxation, my own special blend, called “Twlight Bliss.” I’d settle into the delicious, hot water, and I’d pretend none of this had ever happened. I’d forget Jax. Forget my father, and relegate Luke to the far recesses of my mind. I’d let everything fade away as the comforting scent of jasmine and vanilla wrapped around me.

I’d stay there until my week was up.

“I’m sorry he hurt you again,” MacLean said. I caught the flare of fire in his eyes. “We didn’t realize they had you until too late. Jax took off as soon as you didn’t come back at the forty-five minute mark. Teryl managed to find you, then the Council—”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “I don’t care about the Council, or Jax, or anyone else. What’s done is done.”

“I won’t let it happen again,” MacLean promised quietly, his handsome face serious.

“You couldn’t stop him this time. What makes you think you’ll stop him the next time?”

The rest of the car ride passed in silence. Awkward, heavy, painful silence.

§

MacLean drove me to a doctor, who also happened to be a light elf. He wouldn’t report the injuries. When MacLean introduced me to him, I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Dr. Monroe was an older man, with kind blue eyes and an efficient manner. Too bad he didn’t seem to possess Blythe’s healing abilities.

I asked him about it. He told me it was a dilution of the lines. Very few light elves had progressive healing powers anymore.

I ended up with the diagnosis of a moderate concussion. And for the record, the process to fix a dislocated shoulder sucks. Teryl covered my mouth to keep my screams from freaking out the patients in the small waiting room, just doors away.

Judging from the looks I got when I walked out, I hadn’t been successful. A small child wailed when we walked past, and his mother cast us a dirty look. And old lady frowned and clucked at me. Maybe it wasn’t so much my screaming as the bloody clothes.

I met their frowns with a steely stare. I’d been through hell and back, and their contempt couldn’t faze me. I wanted a soft bed and oblivion. I also wanted to get out of Scotland.

Unfortunately, Dr. Monroe wanted Teryl to wake me up every hour. No flying for twenty-four hours. Fortunately, he had seen fit to send a few pain pills with me. I considered it a wash.

We got back to the small bed and breakfast. Teryl escorted me to my room, while MacLean went in search of food. I looked forward to having a room to myself. I wanted to be alone.

I told them I wasn’t very hungry, but I had to take the pills with food, and Teryl insisted. I had no energy to argue.

He waited outside the bathroom door while I took a long, hot shower. I stayed under the spray until the water ran cold. I scrubbed the last few days away with a soap that usually didn’t fail to revive me. The combination of orange blossom and lemon peel exfoliated and energized on a good day.

Today, it only made me smell better.

I dried off and pulled on my pajamas, mindful of my injuries. The stab wounds were an angry red. The doctor had said I’d always have a scar. One more thing I owed Luke for.

The scars I couldn’t see were the ones that would take the longest to heal. If ever.

The bed had my name written all over it. I pulled the charming, handmade quilt up to my neck. I craved a little comfort. I called out when I was snuggled under the covers of the small, old fashioned bed. “I’m done.”

Teryl entered with MacLean, who held a steaming bowl of stew and a large piece of freshly made bread. My stomach growled, and suddenly I was ravenous. I sat up and reached for the food. “MacLean, I think you’re my favorite person right now.”

“I always was. You just forgot for a little while. But don’t worry, I forgive you.”

“Hey,” Teryl protested.

I waved the butter knife at Teryl. “You bring me fresh bread, and we’ll talk.”

He laughed and sat at the end of the bed while I ate. The food was simple, but amazing. The best meal I’d had in days. I actually felt like I hadn’t eaten in days, not less than twenty-four hours. Getting stabbed apparently does that to a person.

The doctor had said I’d need as much rest and sustenance as I could get to help speed up the healing process, so I emptied the bowl, enjoying the comfortably full feeling in my stomach. When I finished, Teryl took it from me, setting it aside.

MacLean sat on the other side of the bed. He offered me the roll of parchment. “I grabbed this for you. You should read it now.”

I stared at it. Resentment, anger, and fear rose to the surface. I didn’t want to take it. If it hadn’t been for that roll of paper, none of this might have happened. Bad luck. That’s all it was.

“You need to read it.” Teryl’s voice held compassion, which grated on my nerves.

I didn’t want compassion or pity. Couldn’t they see I needed sleep? Not some damn, ridiculous fate.

“Why should I? So far, it’s been nothing but trouble. What if it says ‘ask again later’ or ‘not this time’?”

Teryl frowned at my sarcasm. “It’s not a Magic Eight Ball. It’s your fate. It’s a gift.”

Angrily, I grabbed the roll. “A gift? Nothing about this damn thing has been a gift. This has been the worst week of my life.”

They didn’t say a word as I stared at them in challenge.

“Fine. You want me to read it?” I tore the small ribbon off and unrolled the stiff, heavy paper in small, jerky movements. It read:
Elleodora Emmaline Warlow
.

I cringed. My last name was Fredricks. I’ve never used Warlow. Never would, heir or not.

Fated for two, meant for one. You are the chosen. The one. Your birthright is great. The clouds will clear as your twenty-eighth birthday nears.

“Great,” I snorted. “It’s a child’s nursery rhyme.” A crappy one at that. Next, it would mention rainbows with pots of gold.

“Read the whole thing,” MacLean encouraged with a tinge of impatience. Teryl made a sound of agreement.

I rolled my eyes and regretted it instantly. Eye-rolling was not compatible with my concussion. When the dizziness passed, I resumed reading, although a little more slowly.

You will take your rightful place amidst the confusion. The souls will speak to you, and the lines will reform. Don’t lose sight of your path.

It was signed simply:
Carys
.

Wow. That was…pathetic. Unimaginative. And a huge letdown.

Without a word, I handed the parchment to Teryl, and the men read it together. I had flown across the world, lost my mate, and sustained multiple injuries from my childhood nightmare, all for a riddle? If I hadn’t been so pissed, I’d have laughed. Or maybe not.

Disappointment sat heavily on my shoulders. I had put it all on the line. A woman had died. All for eight miserable sentences of nonsense.

I didn’t know how I was supposed to react. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Part of me did want to laugh hysterically. Most of all, I wanted to tug the covers over my head.

Exhaustion pulled at me, a bone deep weariness which I knew a good night’s sleep wouldn’t help. I settled back against the pillows and stared at my hands. I wanted to go home.

“Elle,” Teryl said. “Do you know what this means?”

“Yes. Carys should have turned her attention to writing bad children’s books. And she shouldn’t have quit her day job.”

I don’t know why I had believed my fate would tell me anything.
Fated for two, meant for one
. What a load of crap. Yeah, that had really cleared things up for me. Besides, how could I be fated for two men but really only meant for one?

“No.” MacLean leaned toward me and took my hand. “It means we know exactly why your father wants you to step in as his heir. And why he was stealing the souls.” I noticed he ignored the mention of who I was meant for.

“Let me see it again.” I reread it, but the only thing that popped out at me was…nothing. It didn’t make any more sense the second time around. “I guess I’m not seeing what you’re seeing.”

“Carys said, ‘the souls will speak to you.’ That’s a literal translation.”

There was a spark of life in Teryl’s eyes I hadn’t seen since before we’d left. He was a geek at heart. It was one of my favorite things about him. I managed a small smile.

“Like ‘I see dead people’? Why would I want to be able to do that?” I was a big enough weenie as it was.

“No, not like that.” Teryl looked to MacLean for help.

MacLean took a breath. “If it means what I think it does, this could change the future of the lines.” He sounded hopeful.

At least someone was. I grabbed the bottle of pain pills on the small nightstand and swallowed one. “Guys, I can’t do this right now. I’m not the chosen one, no matter what Gwen and Blythe and Carys say.”

“What did Blythe say?” MacLean asked in a sharp tone.