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Nothing to do now but settle in and wait.
I take a bite of my burrito, cringing when the exterior is hotter than lava and the interior is still half-frozen. I force myself to chew and not gag, though I almost consider tossing this in the trash and going to chase down a rabbit instead.
I’m antsy now, and sitting in this room for two days sounds like the worst form of torture. Cooped up with the three men who threaten not only my life but also my independence. I’m ready for this to be over—to get the antidote, end the truce, and fulfill what I came here to do.
After Kian finishes his three burritos in two bites, then chugs his water, he slams the empty bottle to the bedside table and declares, “Dibs on first shower.”
Malix balls up his burrito wrapper and throws it at him. “Fuck you, man.”
Standing, Kian raises one sardonic eyebrow. “Did you sacrifice your flesh for the witch?”
I snort, and Malix tosses me a grin. “I guess not, boss. Enjoy your sauna. Leave me some damn hot water.”
Kian grunts, then heads toward the closet-slash-sink area where the door to the toilet and shower is. He tugs his shirt off over his head, and the green-tinged fluorescent light slants over his wounded shoulder.
Maybe it’s the sickly light, but the injury looks even worse than it did back at Erik’s shack.
“Hey, wait a minute,” I say, launching to my feet.
I cross the room in several quick strides before he can disappear into the bathroom cubicle. Grabbing his elbow, I angle him further toward the light so I can better see the gash on his shoulder. The wound seeps thick, maroon blood, and the edges look raw. Painful. I lean in and sniff, catching a hint of infection beneath the copper tang of blood.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “We need to disinfect this. There’s no telling what garbage was on that asshole’s knife. I’ve got a first aid ki—”
“No,” Kian growls, then yanks his elbow from my grasp. “I don’t need your help.”
Irritation and anger flare inside me, but beneath it is the deep well of hurt I’ve spent the last three years filling with quicksand. I grab his arm again, digging my nails into his skin. “Gangrene can kill you.”
“Leave it be,” Kian snaps back. He twists his arm from my grip and turns to stalk into the bathroom.
“This happened because he wanted your tattoo,” I say sharply. Kian halts, freezing with his back to me on the threshold to the shower room. “‘The magic you contain.’ So what are these things? Because they’re obviously not tattoos. You all have them. All the same dark swirls in different shapes.”
I cut my gaze to Malix and Frost. Neither of them have moved, though Frost’s tattoos are shifting and adjusting on his arms, waving beneath his sleeves and up his neck.
“And that’s not normal,” I add, pointing at Frost. “Tattoos don’t move. So what is that? What causes that?”
Frost’s icy blue gaze lifts to meet mine, but he doesn’t respond.
In fact, they’re all three so silent that it grates on my nerves.
Kian finally turns back around, his expression hard as granite, but he still doesn’t speak.
“I can only guess that these tattoos, o
r whatever they are, are part of what makes you more than shifters,” I say, turning back to him. Before I can second guess my actions or my thoughts, I press my fingertips to the curling swirls that cross his abs to dip below the waistband of his pants. “These look different than they did three years ago. The pattern has changed. You have more of them than I remember too.”
Kian’s body stiffens beneath my fingers, and from my periphery, I see Malix and Frost rise to their feet. I glance over at them to find them staring daggers at Kian.
That’s when I remember he never told them about that night back in Montana.
The night between us when everything changed.
The night that I just inadvertently revealed.
Chapter 13
“Three years ago?” Malix says, his tone low and angry.
He hovers on the other side of the bed, framed by the fading sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains. Frost stands behind him a few feet away, still near his chair at the table and also highlighted by the light. They both look eerily beautiful… and deadly. Frost as pale and unearthly as an iceberg in the fading twilight, and Malix as darkly magnificent as a mountain at sunset.
