Loft-style, low ceilings slanted downward, creating a cozy and dimly lit space. I could sleep anywhere—and I had. This would be one of my nicer setups. And for that, I mustered what was left of my manners and gratitude.
I tossed my bag onto the chair by the door and took in the stained cherry floors and the antique, high-gloss dresser and nightstand. The bed was a simple frame, but it came already made so I was happy.
“Thanks, man, this looks great,” I said, meaning it.
RJ rubbed his hands together. “Sweet. Kitchen downstairs is stocked. Coffee with the works. Cereal. I don’t cook much except breakfast food, but you’re welcome to whatever I’ve got. CHAS is footing the bill on utilities so we’re all good there. Towels are in the closet.” He turned back to point at a narrow door at the top of the stairs. “Any idea how long you’re here for?”
“As long as it takes,” I said. Cryptic, I knew, but I just couldn’t with this guy. He was too damned friendly.
“Of course. The place is yours as long as you need, man. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“Thanks. I’m coming off a thirty-six-hour trip so I’m going to crash out.”
“I’ll let you get to it then.” He started out and then stopped, hand on the knob. “Listen, I’m not trying to fangirl you or anything, but you’re a legend. That cleanup you did down in St. Pete last year with the hostage situation … not too shabby.”
“Thanks, man. Edie says you made team leader your second year out of Portland Academy. And I hear you’re running a single man undercover job. Not bad yourself,” I said. Partly because I meant it and partly because reciprocation seemed like the best way to cut this off and let me get some sleep.
“Thanks. Yeah, I do okay. Listen, if you need anything, I have a full armory here.” He stomped his bare foot lightly and it took me a moment to fully comprehend.
“In the floor?”
“Second step from the top. Metal, wood, you name it. Everything’s there,” he said with a half-grin. “Anyway, I’ll let you get some shut-eye.” He swung the door shut, and I heard a final, “Later,” before I was left alone, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this unassuming surfer-kid had installed a full armory underneath the second floor of his rental house.
I’d definitely have to check it out later. For now, sleep was calling me and there wasn’t much left I could do to resist. In fact, my insides were starting to ache and burn from the venom and my own inability to rest when I should. It only ever got this bad when I pushed too hard. Time to fix that—for now.
I pulled my shirt off and rubbed at the sore spot on my shoulder that was still healing from the incision I’d allowed in Peru. My last stop before eating that Belladonna had involved a bit more blood than Griska’s method. And just as much failure. Maybe more.
It had taken me almost nine days to heal enough to walk out of the ruins where the shaman had cut me up and let me bleed out in the sun for a day. He’d chanted and sung in some weird-ass language, praying to the jungle gods for my soul, but none of it had mattered.
I was still sick. Still dying. And still lying to my chain of command about it. So was Edie for that matter. I needed answers soon. Or I’d have to tell them the truth. And I’d rather cut myself and bleed out all over again than admit I could no longer do my job.
I ruffled through my bag and found what I was looking for, grabbing the dropper of herbs and stuffing it inside the pillowcase before tossing everything else onto the floor and kicking out of my boots. My phone had just enough battery life to send a quick text:
Made it to RJ’s. More news after I sleep.
With the message sent, I grabbed the single wooden stake I kept in my boot and tucked that under my pillow before stripping off my pants, right down to my bare ass. I didn’t have the luxury of clean underwear after six weeks of globe-trotting. And I just didn’t have it in me to wait for a shower.
I slid underneath the blankets, melting against the sheets in gratitude to whatever foreign entity had constructed such smooth fabric. My aching muscles and mottled flesh sighed in relief. Half Moon Bay was the last stop on my supernatural wish list, but it didn’t have to be all bad. No matter what happened next, I was done sleeping on the damned ground for a while and that felt good.
I was here for answers. For some cure or magical solution to the fact that I was slowly dying of a condition that had been incurable since the beginning of time. A small voice in the back of my head whispered it was no use. Nothing else had worked and this wouldn’t either. Screw that, I thought as I drifted off. I wasn’t dead yet. And I wasn’t going down without a fight.
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Heather Hildenbrand was born and raised in a small town in northern Virginia where she was homeschooled through high school. She’s only slightly socially awkward as a result. She writes paranormal and fantasy romance with plenty of abs and angst. Her most frequent hobbies are truck camping with her doodle, talking to her plants, and avoiding killer slugs.
You can find out more about Heather and her books at www.heatherhildenbrand.com.
Or find her here:
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Other titles by Heather Hildenbrand:
A Witch’s Call
A Witch’s Destiny
A Witch’s Fate
A Witch’s Soul
A Witch’s Prophecy
A Witch’s Hope
Twisted Tides
The Girl Who Cried Werewolf
The Girl Who Cried Captive
The Girl Who Cried War
The Winter Witch
The Spring Witch
A Witch’s Heart
Midnight Mate
Goddess Ascending
Goddess Claiming
Goddess Forging
Kiss of Death
Knock Em Dead
Death’s Door
Dead to Rights
The Girl Who Called The Stars
The Girl Who Ruled The Stars
Alpha Games
Alpha Trials
Alpha Chosen
Dirty Blood
Cold Blood
Blood Bond
Blood Rule
Broken Blood
One Hour: bonus novella
Imitation
Deviation
Generation
Guarded by the Alpha
Alpha Undercover
Wilde Bear
River Bear
Protected By the Bear
The Badge and the Bear
Tragic Ink: A Havenwood Falls story
For a complete list of titles, visit Heather’s website.
Heather also writes contemporary romcom under the name Moxie Rose. Find out more about her books at moxierosebooks.com.
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