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“I sure showed them.”
A few moments pass in silence before a chair scoots and Rainey clears her throat. “We’re going to try to track your warlock buddy. You have a problem with that?”
“Not as long as you let me kill him,” I growl. “It’s been a long time coming.” I reach up and grip the amulet he made me, then rip it off and offer it to her. “Use this.”
“Thanks.” She pockets it and together she and Elijah head toward the elevator. “And no promises on letting you have a first crack at him,” she calls back, as the elevator dings.
The moment we’re alone again, Tarnley sets the cloth to the side. “Can I get you anything?”
“Something to knock me out again?”
“You should start feeling better soon, I gave you some blood. I can give you more if that wasn’t enough.” Tarnley starts to stand. I grab his hand, and he stills.
Already, I’m feeling better, and likely within the next few minutes, I’ll be completely back to normal. “I’m so sorry, Tarnley.”
“Me, too.” He pulls away. “I’m going to draw you a bath.”
“Thank you.”
He grunts, and his footsteps fade.
Logically, I imagine he only rescued me because if they’d killed me, he’d die, too. But the romantic side of me, the part still helplessly in love with him, wants nothing more than to believe he did it because he wants me just as badly as I need him.
But it’s exactly those foolish notions that got me where I am today.
The faucet squeaks on somewhere behind me. Then Tarnley is beside me again, reaching down and pulling me up against his side. My legs are so damn heavy I know that if he let me go, I’d sink to the floor.
Tarnley sets me on the toilet lid and kneels at my feet. The sight of the powerful vampire kneeling before me is enough to take my breath away, but I do my best to not let it show. Any future we could have had together ended the day I told him I’d kill him. And meant it.
Water pours from the faucet, filling Tarnley’s large tub. It laps up toward the sides, filling quickly, and he takes a moment to add some salts to the steaming water. Hands I’ve seen rip people apart—human and supernatural alike—work to prepare my bathwater, and before I know it, all of the guards I’ve carefully put in place are crumbling, one after the other. “Why did you come for me?” I ask, again.
Crimson eyes level on my face. “Why the hell would I have let you die? Is that truly what you think of me, Bronywyn? That I’d damn us both in vengeance?”
“So you did it to save yourself.”
“I—”
“No. I get it, Tarnley. Without me breathing, you’d die. I would have done the same.” I straighten my shoulders and reach down to tug my boots off. Tarnley grips my face and forces me to look at him.
“Don’t think for a second I do anything for myself. I’ve made it pretty fucking clear how I feel about you, Bronywyn, so cut the shit.” He releases me and yanks off my boots. Then, he stands. “I trust you can get yourself into the tub?” Tone harsh, it’s a direct contrast to his voice only a few minutes ago.
Yet, it’s still a tone I recognize. Tarnley has his guards up. And why the hell shouldn’t he?
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Yeah.” After shutting the door a little harder than was necessary, Tarnley is out of view, and I cover my face with both hands, trying to keep my cries silent. How the hell did everything get so fucked up?
I had good intentions, didn’t I?
And now my one and only ally has turned on me, and my hopes of fixing this city just went up in flames.
I reach over and turn off the faucet then try to yank my shirt up. Pain shoots up my side, and I wince, dropping my hands and sucking in a deep breath.
The door flies open. “What happened?”
“My side. Still not a hundred percent.”
He swallows hard as I look up at him.
