by Emma Cole
"I thought you wanted Cora too, Riggs. What changed?" Ash's confusion mirrors my own, but has an added dose of betrayal mixed in. Maybe Riggs had meant it when he told Cora she’d caused our problems.
Riggs’ reply is angry, almost venomous. “That’s the point though, isn’t it, Ash? We won’t have her. What’s the point in getting our hopes up for the Order to just come in and crush them anyway?” His logic is probably correct, but he’s apparently not even going to bother trying. Fucking coward. I want to know when my friend became such a pussy and let others control him. Probably right about the same time you all fucked Cora over. I have to battle the shame over that bonehead move down to deal with the one in front of me.
Ash echoes my thoughts. “So what? You’re going to be the resident partying fuck-boy and bury your head in the sand until you can’t anymore? How’s that going to help matters?”
With a snarl marring the sharp features girls fawn over, Riggs is about to reply to Ash, but the opening of Cora’s bedroom forestalls it.
“One more thing…” She takes in the tense atmosphere as she steps out of her room. “Uh, am I interrupting?” Riggs' expression morphs into a mulish pout, while Jaeger shakes his head. “Okay, well, if we’re going to call a truce, your guests have to be nicer. I live here too and will for the foreseeable future. If I can’t ask for new housing and you have to be around me all the time, the least you can do is make sure your fangirls keep their mouths shut when they’re in here.” Cora’s back is straight, but I can see the tremble of what I think is nervousness in her hands. She’s never been big on confrontation unless it’s in the heat of the moment. She’ll defend herself just fine, but coming out and initiating a possible disagreement has always been rare.
Taking the opportunity to extend the olive branch even further, I answer for all of us, much to Riggs’ dismay. “We’ll make sure any company we have in here or that hangs out with us are polite.” Riggs opens his mouth again, but Ash, close enough to reach, swings out an arm to backhand his stomach.
Her forehead creases, nose wrinkling as if she’d expected an argument. And possibly before our meeting with the dean it would have gone that way, but we all have to protect our asses as a group now. “I think I’m going to have a nap. Uh, thanks?” She disappears, shutting her door before any of us can respond.
Riggs though, he’s pissed. “Thanks a lot, asshole. Next time, speak for yourself. The only way to get over that piece of ass in there,” he snarls, finger jutting toward Cora’s door, “is to put it in another one.” He storms out, snatching his keys off the wall as he goes. The slamming of the door punctuates his departure, and I worry that Cora will come back out to see what happened, but she doesn’t, and now I’m worrying that she heard what he said.
Drake is glaring at the door Riggs left through with his arms crossed. I glance between Jaeger and Ash, and the latter shrugs, but Jaeger cautions, “Just let him go. He needs to cool down, and we’ll only antagonize him more.” I nod, agreeing with him, but something is still bugging me about the way he’s acting. Only time will tell what he’s hiding.
Chapter Fourteen
Cora
It’s been two days and so far, so good. The guys haven't brought anyone around, and my scans came back mostly good with only moderate swelling directly around the injury sites. Time and rest with low-grade pain medication will eventually take care of it all. This time Jag took me, and since it was done in a different building, I couldn't visit Kael, which bummed me out, but I didn't have an excuse to go by there.
Now, my classes for the day are done, and I'm trying to decide if I should brave asking Blaise to take me to the library. I want to research past students for a genealogy project for my anthropology class, and weirdly enough, the online sites don't have much to go on, so my professor suggested trying the library as they have a dedicated section to alumni.
Blaise has been polite if mostly indifferent, but it's better than his previous asshole tendencies. Drake had to go meet with uncle, so I can't ask him, and Ash and Jag have been almost too attentive— hence the debate on who to get for a chaperone. I feel like a little distance will be a relief from them being up my ass. At least Blaise won't treat me like a china doll that needs to be tended to every minute we're together.
The matter is taken out of my hands as the door opens to two blond guys dragging in a half-conscious, battered Riggs.
"Jaeger! Drake!" the taller towhead yells once they're in with the door shut behind them. I'm standing frozen in the kitchenette with a glass of water in my hand.
They muscle him over to the couch as Jaeger, Ash, and Blaise burst from their rooms.
"You," the other blond snaps, pointing at me with one hand while wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of the other, “get water and towels to clean him up.” I hesitate, staring at the blood smeared across his face, assuming it’s Riggs’. “Now!” he snaps, making me jump and startling me out of the anxious flashbacks of the wreck.
The initial impact of the wreck may have rendered me unconscious quickly, but I’d seen the aftermath left on my body in a map of cuts, bruises, and abrasions. I shake my head, trying to dispel the panic attack the sight of Riggs is inducing. There isn’t time, Cora. Help now, freak later! Shakily, I get a bowl and turn the tap on to let the water get warm while I pull hand and paper towels out, carting them to the coffee table. My body automatically edges around the two newcomers. Something about them warns me off, and since I’m barely holding it together as it is, I don’t ignore my instincts. The guys are crowded around, asking what happened.
“We were following up on an errand for the chairman, and we split up. When we got back to the car, we found him like this laid out on the hood. There was a note left behind. Jaeger, we only brought him here first out of respect for you and Drake, but we’re going to have to report this." The man speaking is the one that initially yelled for Jag, and I'm completely lost as to what he's talking about.
Twisting my hands together and standing back, I try to interject, "Jag, he needs a hospital."
Jaeger is too busy looking Riggs over to pay me any attention, but the guy that was talking to him turns, brows wrinkling in confusion.
"He just needs to siphon and kickstart his—"
"That's enough, Tony," Jaeger sharply commands, turning from his kneeling position on the floor at Riggs' side to glare at Tony. "We'll handle it from here, thank you both. Ash, go with them and find out what you can and see if you can get Drake a message and get him back here."
Tony and his unnamed companion share a glance but begin to move toward the door without comment. I don't understand why they think Riggs doesn't need medical attention, but I suspect it has to do with what I saw the other night. Jag obviously doesn't want me to hear more than I already have, and now I'm torn between wanting to help, my own mental state, and considering following them to find out more.
My inquisitive gaze locks with Jaeger's, giving Ash time to lead the duo out without me. Decision taken out of my hands without being blatant, I hesitantly step toward the couch, stopping when I'm next to Jaeger-- Riggs is passed out, and my breathing picks up at the similarity to Kael.
"What can I do to help? Are we really not taking him to a hospital?" My panicked voice is loud in the quiet room as my eyes take in the cuts and swelling on Riggs’ handsome face. I can't lose him like this! We haven't had time to fix things. The very real prospect of him dying is tearing me up. As angry with him as I am, I'd thought he would just be there if, or when, I was ready to deal with our damaged friendship, and now the chance is slipping away with him. The instinct to do something has me reaching out to wet a cloth to start cleaning the worst of the blood off.
"Cora, can you please go to your room?" My hand pauses mid-swipe as Jaeger is on the receiving end of my astonished glare. Not that he notices as he's busy cutting off Riggs' sleeve with the scissors Blaise hands him.
"You're kidding me, right? You want me to sit in my room while you let him
die?"
Neither he nor Blaise answer me. Jag is frantically pulling the leather bracelet off of Riggs' wrist, revealing his tattoo, and I know I don't want to miss whatever they're about to do. If it doesn't work I'm calling an ambulance and they can go fuck themselves.
"He's not pulling from me, and he's not healing. Are you getting anything?" Blaise directs his question to Jag like I'm not even there, and he shakes his head. “Fuck, I’ll get a kit.”
I’m pretty sure the marks they share should be lighting up if I’m piecing things together correctly, remembering that they’re part of the same group of whatever thing they have going on. When my fingertips graze Riggs' face, my palm tingles, causing me to jerk it away. The move catches the attention of the guys, and Jag glares at me.
"I told you to go." His tone is cold and unyielding. He sounds just like his father. My step-father had never been outright inappropriate or mean, but he'd get the same look and tone Jaeger is directing at me now, and I'd never been interested in finding out what would happen if I didn't listen.
However, arguing with Jag is nothing new, and I don’t back down.
"What exactly do you think you can do to help him that I can't be present for?" I'm not sure how either of them would have answered because as I'm making my point, I grab Riggs' arm— directly over his mark.
I cry out as my hand burns and muted blue light escapes around the edges. My eyes widen on the pulsing glow, and I try to pull my hand away, but can't seem to break the contact.
Blaise starts swearing when he races back from the kitchenette in response to my pained yell. "Damn you, Jaeger. What did you do?"
"It wasn't me! She grabbed him." Panic fills Jaeger's dark eyes as I begin to sway, feeling light-headed. "Cora, let go! Blaise, help me!"
My head goes spacey, and I'm not sure what they do or how long it lasts, but when the room comes back into focus, the coffee table has been shoved back and Jag and Blaise have their hands in mine. I swear I can feel the energy pushing into them and up my arms. It's more of that tingling from before, but instead of burning out of my palms, this is almost cool and seems to sink into my skin where we touch before delving into my veins. My questioning eyes meet Jag's somber ones.
"Hey there, Sunshine." The finger on his free hand traces a line across my cheek. "You feeling better? You nearly scared the life out of us."
It's then that I notice a hand in my peripheral vision. Craning my neck so I can see better, I find Ash, a gray pallor to his skin, on the floor behind me. My efforts to sit up and reach for him are thwarted by Jag and Blaise.
"Don't touch him yet. He came in, saw what was happening, and wrapped around you. Somehow you managed to drain him in under a minute."
Drain him? What the hell is happening? "Uh, someone want to explain that statement? And why I feel like I'm hooked up to a battery?" Both guys just stare at me grim-faced until I tug on my hands.
Blaise shoots a wary glance at Jag before wincing and explaining, "You sort of are." In a sigh, he finishes, "There's a lot you need to be filled in on, but first we need to get Ash and Riggs settled and find Drake and… I'm sorry, Cora. We need to find out how much we're allowed to share. I— we would explain everything, except we're not the final authority on the subject."
Annoyed but having suspected that magic, glowing, energy-sucking people are a secretive bunch, I nod. I am surprised to hear that they actually want to share in the first place— even with the truce, we aren't bosom buddies. It's better to go along with them and pretend to be a good little girl. I figure there's always the option to eavesdrop later if they think they've got me under control.
"Can you let me go? I feel better now than I did before Riggs came in looking like the loser of an MMA match."
A snort behind me draws my attention to a smiling Ash. His eyes are still closed, but his color is looking better. Voice a bit slurry, it's still clear enough to understand when he says, "I'm telling him you said that when he wakes up."
"Be my guest! I want to know what he was doing to get so messed up. How are you doing, anyway? Apparently I zapped you— like a bug," I can't resist adding and then let out a peal of hysterical laughter. When the guys look at me like I'm nuts, I share. "The blue glowy stuff? Bug-zapper?"
Riggs chooses that point to wake up, or at least lets us know he's awake, adding his groan to the chorus of them around me. He takes it one step further and comments on it. "Leave it to you to relegate divine light to a glowy bug killer."
I briefly feel guilty that I haven't tried to check on him yet, and this time the two holding my hands help pull me to a sitting position and let me go.
"Whoa." The cuts appear to be days old, as does the bruising that's turned a mottled yellowish-green. "Yeah, you guys have some serious shit to explain."
As if he's just now noticing, which is possible considering the state he was previously in, Riggs takes in all of our positions and Ash's prone form. His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up near his hairline. "Did you let her— what did you all do? We're going to be in so much shit." Another groan escapes him as he flops his head back onto the couch.
Ash's retort is quick and grumpy. "From what I could tell with these two panicking when I came in, they didn't let her do shit."
Jag echoes him. "No, we didn't. Grabby hands was trying to help clean you up although I'm not sure why she'd bother after you've stayed as far away as possible. Blaise and I were kind of distracted trying to help your dumb ass, and she accidentally grabbed you right over your…" He buttons up, probably realizing he's about to spill more than he'd intended.
I'm only halfway paying attention though, still stuck on the 'why she'd bother' comment. Shifting to get up on my knees, my finger pokes Jag in the chest. "Why I'd bother? Maybe because I'm not a heartless bitch? I tried to get you to take him to a hospital, which you refused. Was I just supposed to let him lay there and die? He passed out, and you were doing nothing!" My voice rises as my tangent goes on until I choke out the last bit through a throat clogged with tears. "Just like Kael."
Jaeger blanches, instantly contrite, and tries to reach out for me, but I smack his hand away, leaning back into the couch as I do.
Riggs, who up until now has avoided me as if I have a contagious rash, takes the opportunity to snake an arm around my shoulders, murmuring in my ear, "I'm not him, but I'm glad you wanted to help anyway. Thanks, Cora-Bora." My head twitches away from his breath tickling my ear, and I try to twist in his hold. For recently being a half-dead dude, he sure has a grip.
"Knock it off. We're not in third grade with you pulling on my hair and making fun of my name, Calvin." His scowl is immediate, but I ignore it and try to get up. Only to promptly be pushed back down, and now he isn't the only one scowling.
"If you two are done, we have things to figure out and a missing roommate to track down." Blaise's words are nice enough until they're paired with whatever crawled up his ass and died.
An inkling of what they're doing worms its way in my head— normally I'd be completely flipping my shit and twisting my fingers off because I never know what to do with my hands when I'm anxious, but instead I'm just...okay with everything. Well, mostly okay. "Who is it? Whichever one of you is fucking with me, knock it off. I'm not playing the 'whammy Cora with the mojo to keep her happy' game." My bet is on the one with current skin contact— until Jag can't control the two dusky red spots that appear high on his cheeks.
Further damning himself, he runs a hand through his inky hair, refusing to meet my eyes. "It was only to relax you and Ash enough to get you off Riggs and Ash off you. It may have lasted longer than intended with the prolonged contact."
He's being awful forthcoming, which means he's hiding something. More than just not telling me what they are.
"Uh huh, right. Where did Drake actually go?" I cross my arms over my chest, determined to ignore the arm that's slipped up around my neck even if it's kinda nice to have a peek into the old Riggs.
"Look, Cora, we need you to go ha
ng in your room. You're just going to have to trust us for now." Blaise is matter of fact, and I have to restrain myself from rolling my eyes at him.
Right. Not. I go along with it anyway, and since I really do feel great, even my lingering injuries seem a lot better, my brain goes directly to some unchaperoned time outside of this suite.
"I would, but there's this thing called a contract, and my grades have to stay up past a certain average. I have a big project for my anthropology class, and I need to go to the library for the info— it's not online." Mentally crossing my fingers, I broach my request. "If you all need to go find Drake, and I can't go, you can leave me at the library, then we can all discuss this over dinner when you're done."
Jag stares at me, indecision written all over him from the stiff set of his shoulders to the crease between his eyes. Worried that he’s about to refuse, I add on, “Physical therapy in the city is going to take up most of tomorrow with the trip there and back, and my professors still expect my work to be done on time. If I don’t get some of the materials tonight, I won’t be able to go until after my next anthro class, and we’re supposed to turn in our research subject then. What am I supposed to say when I don’t have my assignment?”
“Just let her go, Jaeger. It’s going to draw more attention to make her miss an assignment than it will to leave her in the library.” Ash pushes to his feet as he backs my request and reasoning. “I’m going to shower. Don’t leave without me.”
I think he’s talking to the guys, but when he doesn’t leave, I crane my head back awkwardly in Riggs’ embrace to find Ash looking directly at me. He raises his brows expectantly, apparently wanting a concrete signal of my agreeance. Nodding in this position is difficult, so I just give him a thumbs up instead. That seems to satisfy him, and he walks off to his bedroom. More than ready for Riggs to let go, I pull back, only to have him draw me in further until his lips are once again against my ear.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Cora-Bora, but I’m onto your innocent act-- watch your ass. These people aren’t fucking around.” I think he’s done and am about to demand to be released when he says something I haven’t heard since Kael said it to me last. “Proud of you for not backing down.” I swear the lightest of kisses grazes the shell of my ear as his arm finally loosens.
