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EMERY
I'm exhausted on every level, but I can't sit still. Can't sleep. Can't relax.
Not when Isabella is out there somewhere with Adrik. Not when I don't know what Adrik has planned next.
So once again, I go to the training room.
It’s impossible to be in this room without thinking about Adrik. Every time I’ve ever come in here, he’s found me. Like he knows I’m trying to forget about him for a few minutes and comes looking for me.
None of that, little one, his deep voice rumbles in my head. Forget about me? You’re out of your mind.
And Imaginary Adrik is right—it is impossible. Especially today. I want him to find me. I want to see Isabella.
But for now… I wait.
I train with the nunchucks again, trying to make quick, precise movements. But all I can feel is Adrik’s hands over mine, guiding my hold.
All I can think about is the way he looked when we were sparring, all corded muscle and fast reflexes.
Fuck him for still featuring in my daydreams.
I fling the nunchucks across the room. They clip the corner of one of the mirrors and it cracks.
"Goddammit," Stefan groans.
I spin around to see he's standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
"You're lucky Adrik hates this room. Otherwise, he'd be pissed about that, too.”
"Are you babysitting me now?" I walk to the cabinet and start to tug on the boxing gear.
"Seems like I have to. I don't want you tearing another room apart."
"It was an accident."
“‘It was a joke,’" he mocks, his voice ridiculously high-pitched to mimic mine. “‘It was an accident.’ Do you ever do anything on purpose?"
I yank a boxing glove on and beckon him forward. "Come a bit closer, and I'll show you the kind of damage I can do on purpose."
Stefan grins. He really isn't a bad-looking guy, but for some unfathomable reason, he doesn't do it for me. There's no flutter in my belly, no quiver between my legs… nothing. Stefan is good with Isabella, somewhat nice to me, and he knows how to be a civil human. By all accounts, he should do it.
But I'm not into that, apparently.
I'm more into violent kidnappers who want me dead or in chains.
"I'm just here to observe. No sparring," Stefan says. "Adrik would castrate me if something happened."
"Come on, are you scared of him or something? I thought he was your friend." I practice a few jabs in the air. "I'll take it easy on you."
He snorts. "I like my dick attached just the way it is, so thanks but no thanks."
"Why would he even care?"
Stefan rolls his eyes. "You two are exhausting."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
“You know damn well what it means. But I’m not letting you get me into trouble today. Just workout in peace and stop breaking his shit."
“Fine.” I take a deep breath and push all these unanswerable questions away. I have enough to deal with as it is.
I work on the punching bag for a while. Stefan lingers, but he just leans against the door, saying nothing the whole time. I do my best to ignore him.
To ignore everything, really. When my body is moving, I’m able to tune most of my thoughts and worries out. I feel strong and capable—two feelings I know will disappear as soon as Adrik walks through the door.
As afternoon takes over from morning and my fists start to ache from the heavy bag, I switch to stretching. My muscles throb, but it’s a good thing. It blots out the voices in my head.
I’m stretching out my hips, my legs spread across the floor and my body arched to one side, when I hear voices in the hallway.
Specifically, a high-pitched, girlish voice.
I jump up and run into the hallway. The voices are echoing up from the entryway below. I take the stairs down two at a time and land with a slap down on the tile floor loud enough that everyone there turns to look at me.
Isabella rotates her wheelchair.
Or, actually… she rotates a new wheelchair.
“Mama!” She zips over to me, the machine humming with the kind of smooth electric purr that only comes with lots of dollar signs attached.
I drop down in front of her and grab her face. “Oh my God, my baby! Are you okay?”
She frowns. “I’m fine. Adrik took me to—”
“Where did this come from?” I stand back.
The wheelchair is, admittedly, very nice. It’s pink with a black leather seat and cushions for her arms and back. The joystick is on a swivel arm so she can move it closer to her, making it easier to use. It’s fitted perfectly to the curve of her spine and the curl of her body.
Isabella groans. “Mama, listen! Adrik took me to get a new wheelchair. And then we went—”
“Where did you go?” I look over Isabella’s head, but can’t quite bring myself to look at Adrik.
I know he’s standing there. His presence is like the air before a storm, charged and electric. But if I look at him, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Instead, I stare at his shoes. That feels safer.
“A friend of mine got her an appointment,” Adrik explains.
His baritone voice makes me shiver. I don't know if I want to strangle it out of him or kiss him so I can taste it.
“Mama,” Isabella groans, trying to get my attention. “Then we went to a fair and—”
“It took Malcolm six months to get her last chair. How did you do it in a few days?” I drag my gaze up to his black jeans. They’re slim, but no amount of material can hide the raw strength of him. His legs fill out the denim in despicable ways.
I don’t need to look at his face to know he’s smirking. The amusement is clear in his voice. “I’ve told you, Emery: I always find a way.”
My body turns to ice. It’s a threat if I’ve ever heard one.
Suddenly, there’s a sharp jab on my shin. I jump back. “Ow!”
Isabella backs her wheelchair away from my legs. “Listen to my story, Mama!”
“Sorry, sweetheart.” I kneel down in front of her, relief flooding through me again to see that she is perfectly unharmed. Stefan was right. “What did you do today?”
“We went to a fair,” she says. “There was cotton candy and slushes and corn dogs—”
“Did you do anything but eat junk?” I tease.
“I rode a carousel,” she says. “Adrik held me on the ride.”
At that, I glance up for only a second.
Adrik is staring at me. His expression is steely. It’s impossible to imagine him cradling a little girl on a carnival ride or buying her a stuffed unicorn, which I can now see is wedged in the basket beneath her wheelchair.
I look back at Isabella and then lean forward to kiss her forehead. “That sounds like so much fun,” I murmur through a knot in my throat.
She grins, and for some reason, tears brim in my eyes.
I blink them away and stand up. Stefan is standing off to the side now, watching with a subtle I told you so smugness in his eyes.
“Hey, Stef?” I’ve never called him that before, but he stiffens at once. He glances at Adrik, but doesn’t get a chance to say anything. “Will you take Isabella for a few minutes? I want to talk to Adrik real quick. Alone.”
Stefan looks from me to Adrik, who nods, giving his permission.
As they leave together, Isabella is going on and on about all of the fun she and Adrik had together. “… I wish you could have been there,” she tells him.
He strokes her hair. “Me too, kid.”
I wait until they are out of earshot before I finally turn to Adrik.
It’s the first time I’ve let myself take in all of him at once. His savagely clenched jaw. His quicksilver blue eyes. The confident way he stands, legs spread, arms hanging loose.
Like he has no worries in the world.
Like he has done nothing wrong.
And all at once, the rage I suppressed in the kitchen this morning rushes back over me. Before I can even consider what I’m doing, I’m sprinting across the entryway towards him.
I slam into his body like a bullet. But of course, Adrik is ready for it.
He wraps his arms around me and swings me around, deflecting part of the blow. He pins me back against the wall, almost toppling over a small table next to us.
He reaches for my arms, but I manage to keep one hand free and slap him hard across the face.
The crack echoes around the room. Adrik goes perfectly, terribly still.
I do, too.
Slowly, he turns to face me, a red handprint growing on his cheek. When he leans in and whispers, his breath is hot.
“That’s the last time you’ll ever get away with anything like that.”
“You took her,” I spit. “You took my daughter out of her bed while I was sleeping. Do you understand how sick that is?”
“I lavished her with gifts she could only dream of a week ago. You should be on your knees thanking me.”
“For kidnapping my daughter?”
“For giving her what you couldn’t,” he growls.
