Page 50 of Lost and Bound

“Perhaps, darlin’, you could call off your attack bird. I’m not losing an eye on anyone’s account.”

The best I can do is a hand flop, which makes him laugh and gives Bugby a place to land. His little talons grip hard when he settles on my bare skin, but the pinch of pain is a good point to focus on. I watch as Bugby gives the vampire carrying me into the house the evil eye, and I think my head injury is getting worse because I imagine I could fall in love right then and there, at least until the vampire ruins the moment completely.

“You’ve got blood…”

And everything goes black.

Again.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHARMING APOLOGIES

ARLAN

Rodderick hovers as close as the bird while I carry the unconscious, bloody-nosed Nom through the house. They vie for equal place in the concerned stakes, though the bird is a beak ahead. Then you throw Cane into the mix, and my plans for a quiet night in, relaxing on the sofa and ignoring the new girl, are blown out of the water.

Cane’s plan for all of us to act like the Nom was not living in the same house as us was honestly the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard him say. The only reason I’m not laughing in his face right this second is how close he is to taking fur.

I get it, she’s a handful. Although a very tiny handful.

And yeah, I’m the self-appointed individual tasked with cleaning her up, because I’m the dick who got the house to cast her out on her ass, so a lot of this is on me. But something isn’t adding up when it comes to her. Quite a few things, actually.

“So,” I break the awkwardness that her hitched breathing causes. It’s not that it’s loud; it’s that it’s so obviously filled with emotion that I feel it like my own. “I’m sorry about the threshold.”

Her whole body locks up. It’s like she’d temporarily forgotten where she was, or what was going on. Then she sags against me again, her response as noticeable as the way she’s white-knuckling my shirt with one hand and cupping half her face with the other. Though despite her best attempt, blood is dripping down her arm.

My incisors drop. It’s not a surprise; she’s a cutie, and her blood sings a sultry song. “Given how much blood there is…”

I don’t get to finish before she goes limp for the second time in as many minutes. Her head flops backward so fast that the raven takes flight.

I swing around looking for a little assistance, and maybe to show the room I’m not guilty.

Cane’s eyes laser in on her unconscious form in my arms. “What the hell did you do, Arlan?”

He’s not the only one who jumps into action. Rodderick, who knows me well, whips out his necklace—a vibrant blue, white, and black apotropaic. He holds it up level with his face, so the evil eye and he can stare me down.

I can’t help but laugh. “Rodderick, honestly, you know that doesn’t work. Unless you’ve traveled to ancient Greece and had it blessed in the water virgins bathe in, which I know you haven’t. I gave you a sigil to wear, and that is not it.”

My words get lost under the constant caws of the raven and Cane’s steadily increasing growls, which I’m sure he isn’t even aware he’s making. Afterward, when we’re alone and the drama is behind us, I’m going to enjoy giving him so much shit for how he acted.

“I didn’t do anything, she just fainted again. Maybe if we get some air in the room, and…”

All the chaos and noise stops on a dime as she comes to. I move at a speed that scares people, laying her on the countertop, then I hold her legs up so the blood rushes back to her head.

After taking a couple of slow blinks to regain her senses—something that happens a little too fast in my opinion. It’s obvious she’s been in this position on more than a few occasions, given how hard she’s pushing herself to recover and how determined she is to stand on her own two feet.

Until she looks down and sees proof of her run-in with the ward again. She instantly turns green and slams her eyes shut, then sits up and slides off the counter to sit on the floor before shoving her head between her knees.

“Possum, you want to tell me what the heck is going on?” I prod. “Rodderick and your raven are about to throw down. Professor Cane’s about to show you his wolf. If we could use some words to reassure these good folk, that’d probably be best.”

She mumbles something without raising her head. I glance back to see if the others heard her, but they’re all drawing blanks too.

“Can you repeat that louder for me?”

“It’s…” She waves her free hand around but won’t look up again as she stirs the air. My supersonic hearing picks up the splatter of a drop of her blood—it is, after all, my weakness—but I also hear her desperate whisper. “Please stop dripping. Please.”

Since we’re not hiding we’re supernaturals, I blur around the room, getting what I need. I now have a suspicion of what we’re dealing with, as well as trying not to chuckle at the irony.