When I woke up, my mouth was sticky and my teeth felt furry. My eyelids gritted like sandpaper over my eyes when I opened them. Otherwise, I didn’t move, the memory of pain holding me still.
The room was dim. Overhead was a white ceiling. Way overhead. The room must be a cavern. I took an inventory of myself. I felt . . . okay. The pain was gone. I was tired though. And really hungry. Tired won out though. I closed my eyes.
The next time I woke up, I was both starving and I had to pee. Bad. Well, nothing to do about that but find a bathroom. And then a kitchen. Hopefully stocked better than mine, which had some ramen noodles, peanut butter, microwave popcorn, and some frozen dinners.
I pushed myself up. I was sitting in the middle of a king-sized bed, wearing a tee shirt and pair of sweats, neither of which were mine. Also, I was not wearing them when I was shot. This I was certain of. As I started to scoot to the edge of the bed, I realized I was also not wearing underwear. This gave me pause. A girl doesn’t just lose her underwear. Someone had taken it and the rest of my clothes as well. Presumably that was Price.
I didn’t look at my bullet hole. Holes, since it went in and out. I wasn’t ready for that. Dizziness swept over me as I stood. I grabbed hold of the tall post at the foot of the bed and hung on for dear life. Didn’t work. My legs sagged, and I slid down to the floor. The good news was that across the room was an open door. I could see a sink inside. Where there was a sink must also be a toilet. All I had to do was get there.
Since walking seemed out of the question, and since I didn’t want to pee on the floor, I eased onto my hands and knees. I had got about halfway across when Price swooped in out of nowhere.
“What the hell are you doing on the floor?”
He sounded furious. What would his reaction have been if I’d pissed all over the rug? It was a nice one. I imagine I would have ruined it.
Before I could answer, he lifted me to my feet, holding me against him when I instantly started to melt back down to the carpet. Man, he was hot. Or I was really, really cold.
“You are hot.”
“Thanks for noticing,” he said.
I blushed. That came out well. True, but still embarrassing.
“Why were you on the floor?”
“I wanted to go to the bathroom.”
“You didn’t want to walk?”
“I did, but my legs had other ideas. It seemed safer to crawl.”
“Very logical.”
“Thank you. I still have to go.”
He grinned. Shit, he was pretty. I sighed.
“What’s wrong? Do you hurt?” He frowned and his hair fell across his eyes.
So, so pretty.
“I’m hungry, too.” For him. I managed not to say it.
“Good. Food will help you recover.”
“Recover?” I repeated stupidly as he helped me to the bathroom.
“You were shot. Don’t you remember?” He sounded worried.
“Of course I do. They hit my side, not my brain.”
That brought out the smile again. “That’s my Riley,” he murmured. “Feisty.”
His Riley?
I didn’t have a chance to ask, because we were in the bathroom beside the toilet.
“Do you need help?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, even though I probably did.
“I’ll be right outside the door.”
Yay. Because him listening to me pee is guaranteed to stop me up like a cork. “I’ll be fine.”
He just gave me a long look and stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him.
I pulled the tie on the sweats loose with one hand, holding onto the towel rack with the other. The pants fell around my ankles. I sat down with a sigh of relief. It was about that time that I noticed that my thighs were smeared with dried blood. Clearly someone—Price no doubt—had done his best to clean me up, but hadn’t been able to get all of it. My stomach lurched, and bile burned my tongue.
It’s not that I am afraid of blood, or even that I freak out at the sight of it in general. But this was mine, and it came out of a bullet hole. Two bullet holes. An innie and an outie. That makes a big difference in the way I look at it.
I bent down and tried to breathe. My side hitched and felt tight, but otherwise there was only an ache. I straightened and finished my business, suddenly needing to see what had happened to me. I didn’t bother pulling up the sweats. I left them in a puddle in front of the toilet. A full-length mirror hung on the back of the door. I stared at myself for a long moment.
My skin is usually pale with freckles. I’m a ginger, after all. But at this moment, I was pasty white. My eyes were bruised looking and my lips had no color at all, like I’d been sucked dry by a vampire. My left thigh had smears of blood on it, and of course, I wasn’t wearing underwear.
Biting my lips, I pulled up my—Price’s—shirt. It was your basic black V-neck, with a pocket on the left breast.
The bullet had gone through my left side below my ribs and above my hip. Apparently it hadn’t hit my kidney or liver or spleen. Not that I had a clue where they were except inside my stomach. Where it had gone in was puckered red. I touched my fingertip to it. It was slightly numb. No pain, but an ache inside, like freezer burn. I twisted, but couldn’t see the exit hole. Instead I traced it with my fingers. It was bigger, somehow, like the bullet had grown inside me.
“Are you okay in there?” Price asked just outside.
I started. “Where are my clothes?”
“I cut your shirt off. Your pants and underwear are in the dryer.”
“I want to shower.” Suddenly I really, really wanted it, like dying of thirst want.
“Are you sure you’re strong enough?” he asked doubtfully.
“Most definitely. Do you have a razor?”
The knob of the door twisted, and before I could protest, he came in. Luckily his shirt covered my rug, as it were, which he’d already seen more than once. Why I should possibly be embarrassed to let him see it again, I don’t know, but there you are.
He stopped just inside and looked me over. His expression was brooding. Impatient even. Look, it’s not like I planned to get shot, right? Sorry I’m taking so long, but I am not of fan of wearing my own blood.
“Are you all right?”
What kind of question is that? I’ve been shot and apparently healed up. How did he manage that, by the way? A question I’d be asking soon, once I was clean. Maybe after I’d had a sandwich.
“What happened to my blood?” I asked.
Let me explain something. Blood can be used to find people, plus do magic against them. ’Course they have to be decently strong, and the blood has to be super fresh. The longer it sits, the more powerful the person’s magical ability has to be. I’ve done some testing of my own limits. About two hours max is what I’ve got. Josh’s blood was too old by the time we found it for me to find him with it.
“I burned it,” he said.
I nodded, and I wondered if he really had. Not that he had any real use for it. He didn’t seem to have any magic talent. If he did, he was hiding it well.
“Hey.” Price snapped his fingers in front of my face.
I blinked and focused on him. “What?”
“How about I get you something to eat first? Then you can shower. You’ll be stronger. You won’t fall down while washing.”
He continued to stare at me. I shifted and swayed, leaning back against the wall. He was right. Plus I was very, very hungry.
“Okay.”
He helped me back to the bed and sat me down. “Stay here.”
With that he vanished. I pulled a soft throw over my bare legs and snuggled into his pillows. His smell was a delicious drug.
I was asleep by the time he
returned with a sandwich. He woke me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Come on. Let’s get some food into you.”
Price helped me sit up against the pillows. The sandwich was ham and pepper jack cheese with lettuce and tomato on sourdough. I devoured it and guzzled the milk that came with it. He sat on the foot of the bed and watched me.
I set my glass down. “That was good. Thank you.” Already I felt a lot better. Still weak and tired, but not as shaky, and I thought I could stand. “It’s time for my shower.”
Price looked doubtful. “You’ll collapse. You can’t even stand without help.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, if necessary, I’ll sit. I need to get clean.”
He considered and then gave a little nod. “Then I’ll stay and help.”
He had that bulldog look, the same one he’d gotten when he first hired me. I wasn’t going to win this argument. Neither was I going to forgo the shower. It wasn’t just the blood. I felt dirty and I smelled ripe, like I’d run a marathon. Maybe shock does that to a person. I sighed. What the hell? He’d already seen me naked. What was one more time?
Crazy how I could have a barely healed bullet wound and be dizzy as hell, and yet the idea of having Price helping me shower made fireworks go off in my stomach. I sucked in a sharp breath.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” He put a hand under my elbow.
“Can we just get on with this, please?” I tried not to sound eager.
HE KICKED ASIDE my abandoned sweats and closed the toilet before sitting me down on it. I still had the throw wrapped around my lower half. From the closet behind the door he pulled out a big basket of froufrou-looking stuff. He set it on the counter and started pulling out bottles.
“That doesn’t exactly look like your style.” I sat slumped over with my elbows on my thighs and my chin on my hands. “I thought you’d go in for something more masculine than—” I lifted my head to get a look at one of the labels. “What’s a plumeria, anyhow?”
“A flower from Hawaii.”
“You don’t strike me as a flowery shampoo sort of guy.” More like woodsmoke and leather.
“I like to keep it around just in case.” He took a couple of towels out of the cupboard, along with a washcloth.
Just in case he had feminine company. Why did that bother me? I have to admit it did. I really didn’t want to think about other women taking showers in his bathroom. Or doing other naked things in his house.
Oh crap. Please, please do not let me even think about being stupid enough to fall for Price. No, no, no, no, no!
I looked down at the floor while he started the water and adjusted it. A minute later, a pair of bare feet showed up in my vision and then a hand. I straightened and put my hand in his before I realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Oh my. Price’s body was lovely. Sculpted muscles with a line of dark silky hair arrowing down his chest to vanish into the waistband of his jeans. I averted my gaze and bit the inside of my lip. I tensed myself against the urge to touch him, to feel the hot satin of his skin.
He let me go and reached for the shirt I was wearing. “Raise your arms.”
I drew in a breath and held it and lifted my arms. He pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. I am proud to say I didn’t blush. I’m pretty certain I couldn’t, what with all my blood loss. Never thought I’d be grateful to get shot.
The shower was big enough to hold a half-dozen people. Glass tiles shimmered on the walls and floor. There were sprayers in the walls and several on the ceiling. It was like stepping into a carwash. A steamy one. There was a seat in each of the three corners and a glass door, which Price closed behind us.
Us.
He’d kept his jeans on, which only made me imagine peeling them down his legs and licking my way back up.
I groaned and twisted away to face the wall.
“What is it? Are you hurting?”
As nice as this shower was, I just wanted to hurry up and get out before I humiliated myself. “Hand me some shampoo.”
I grabbed the bottle out of his hand, squirted some into my palm, and scrubbed it into my hair. I may have scraped off some skin. I was a little vigorous. Because he didn’t need to see my boobs jiggling, I kept my back to him. I rinsed out my hair and reached blindly behind me. “Conditioner?”
He put it in my hand. I closed my fingers on it, but I had a bad grip. I dropped it. Without thinking I bent to retrieve it, and was swept with a gray wave of dizziness. I keeled sideways against the wall, hitting it hard with my shoulder and the side of my head. My ears rang and spots kaleidoscoped across my brain.
Strong hands caught me. Price pulled me upright against his chest. My nipples rubbed his skin and hardened. My stomach went molten, and my knees turned wobbly again. I stared straight at his throat, unwilling to meet his eyes.
“Riley? Are you okay? You hit your head.”
His fingers ran slightly over my head, looking for a concussion, I suppose. Or maybe another blood fountain. The way I was reacting to his touch, I felt like I had a concussion. My hands were pressed against the flat planes of his pecs. Steel and velvet.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, and I sounded like I’d eaten a handful of gravel. “Let’s just get this over with.”
I made myself lower my hands, but his hand remained on my hip while the other trailed down the side of my face. I was still pressed up hard against him, and I could feel his hard length inside his wet jeans.
That was when I made the mistake of looking up into those sapphire eyes. He looked down at me with smoldering intensity. His jaw knotted and then he slowly slid his hand around the back of my head and pulled me into the hottest kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Chapter 9
HIS LIPS SLANTED over mine. From the ferocity of his look, I was expecting something rough, but he was gentle. Worshipful even. He took his time, sliding the tip of his tongue along my lips. He pulled away and so our lips barely touched, and our breathing mingled, then came back like a starving man, deepening the kiss.
Heat ribboned through me, sending sparks dancing along my nerves and turning my stomach to hot gold. I skimmed my hands up his arms to his shoulders. I bit his lip gently. He groaned and his hands contracted on me.
That did me in. I leaned into him and pushed up on my tiptoes. His left arm slid around my back to hold me like an iron bar. His tongue danced with mine, clever and wet. The taste of him was indescribably delicious. I couldn’t get enough. My arms locked around his neck. I was barely standing on my own.
I can’t tell you how long that moment went on. Neither one of us wanted to be the one to stop. The shower kept pouring on the hot water. We weren’t going to be saved by a cold dousing.
In the end it was me that put a stop to the best kiss of my life. Or rather, blood loss and maybe shock catching up to me. I felt myself starting to shake. I thought at first it was reaction to Price. But it increased until I was shivering enough for him to notice. He pulled away.
“Riley?”
I tried to say something, but I couldn’t even make words. Everything was starting to go blurry.
“Shit.”
He swung me up into his arms and carried me out of the shower, standing me on the rug. He grabbed a towel with one hand and rubbed me down. He had to hold me up. I couldn’t stand. A couple seconds later he carried me back to the bed and laid me in it. He pulled the blankets up to my chin. If anything, I was shivering harder. Weirdly, I didn’t feel cold. I felt more numb.
Price vanished and then the covers were pulled away and he slid in beside me. He’d dried off and changed his wet jeans for a pair of dry sweats. He pulled me into his arms and rubbed his hands over my back and arms. He was murmuring something. I couldn’t make out a single word over my chattering teeth.
After a whil
e, you’d probably think I’d start getting warm. But I didn’t. All of a sudden Price jumped out of bed. I made a protesting sound, but he totally ignored me. I curled up into the fetal position, wrapping my arms around my knees, and I say this without any pride at all, whimpered in self-pity because my knight in shiny armor had abandoned me. Knight or Detective-Asshole Clay Price. The same guy who’d tabbed me and forced me to work for him. Oh, how low I’d fallen. Disgusting really.
At some point, to my ridiculous delight, Price came back. Of course. I mean, he couldn’t leave a wreck like me in his bed. Plus the kiss said he kind of liked me.
He pulled the covers back and tried to make me sit up. I gripped my knees tighter and wriggled further down into the covers.
“Come on, Riley. You can’t stay this way. Just sit up for me. I promise you’ll feel better. Come on, baby.”
Baby? Did he really call me baby? Some women would be insulted by that. Normally I would. But with it coming from Price, I felt my chest go all gooey. At that moment I’d probably have done just about anything for him.
I let go of my knees and let him pull me up to a sitting position.
“That’s my girl,” he said and put his arm around me. He put a glass to my lips. “Drink now.”
I obediently drank. It was whiskey with lemon and it was warm. Yuck. I tried to pull away, but he held me firm.
“Drink it all, Riley.”
I didn’t really have a choice, and I sure as hell didn’t have the wherewithal to fight him. So I drank. Probably six ounces or so of straight whiskey. Fire hit the pit of my stomach and exploded. I swear I was drunk in less than ten seconds. I was more than ready to go back to the fetal position, but Price wasn’t done with me. He held another cup to my lips. I twisted away. No more whiskey. He persisted, and in my weakness, I gave in.
This time the cup was full of warm chocolate milk. After the first sip, I put my hands over his and gulped it down. Chocolate milk and whiskey don’t really mix, but at this moment, I didn’t really care.
Trace of Magic: 1 (The Diamond City Magic Novels) Page 11
