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She grins. “Haven’t you heard? Violence is a specialty of mine.” The smile disappears, and her brows draw together in concern. “It’s also a very real possibility if I don’t see you shove something into your mouth.” She offers me the bag for the third time, but this time, I reach in and grab a handful.
“Skittles and popcorn?” I ask, staring at the red, orange, and green balls I scooped up with my yellow popcorn.
“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions.” She beams at me. “Trust me. I’m pretty damn sure that I’m ninety-percent skittles at this point.”
With a shrug, I shove it into my mouth and chew. Salty butter blends with fruity sweetness in a combination that is not nearly as disgusting as I thought it would be. “This is actually not so bad,” I’m forced to admit.
“Told you.” She shoves the bag into my hand. “Keep it. I can make more.”
My stomach growls, so I grab a few more and pop them into my mouth. “Does your sister know that this is what you’re eating?”
“Since I’m thirty-seven years old, everyone else has lost the privilege of telling me what I can and can’t eat.”
Chuckling, I shove more into my mouth and turn back toward the window where Bronywyn sleeps. Ever since we knocked her out, the darkness that has been steadily creeping into my mind over the past few months was pushed out. While I have no doubt it will return as soon as she wakes, I am rather enjoying the reprieve.
It’s been too damn long since I felt like myself.
My gaze drops to the light pendant still around her neck. It should have protected her; that’s what she said its purpose was. The fact that it didn’t only alludes to the horror show they put her through before she snapped.
“Any changes?”
I glance over as Elijah moves toward us, his broad form taking up most of the hall between rooms. Face set in a tight line, he looks like hell. Shit, we all do except the youngest Astor, who somehow manages to keep her shit together even in the face of total and complete chaos.
Maybe there is something to her Skittles logic.
“Not yet,” Rainey tells him. “Thankfully, she’s still out cold. I’m really hoping Del gets back with Ridley and Fearghas before she wakes up. The last time I went in there to dose her, she gave me a sadistic smile that will probably haunt me for the rest of my life.”
Elijah grunts and crosses both arms before leaning over and looking into my bag. “Are you seriously eating Skittles with popcorn?”
“Your mate gave them to me.”
He turns to her, and she glares at me, “Traitor.”
“I thought no one could tell you what to eat?” I grin at her, and Elijah stifles a chuckle.
“Elijah somehow always manages to guilt me into eating something else.”
“We do crazy things for the people we love,” he grumbles in response.
Rainey leans against him, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. A fresh wave of pain washes over me as I realize I may never share another intimate moment with the woman currently on the other side of the glass.
Is it possible that this is it? This is the end for us both?
Rainey clears her throat, interrupting my thoughts. “When Heather took me over, it was like I was forced to watch the movie of my life play out right before me. I saw everything she did—at least the stuff she wanted me to see—but was helpless to intervene. It was the worst time of my life.” Her voice is hollow, and I know she’s reflecting on Heather using her body to murder her late partner and his wife, among countless supernaturals. “I really hope that if Bronywyn is still in there, she’s unconscious and has no idea what’s going on.”
“Me, too,” I agree, attempting not to focus too deeply on whether or not I believe any shred of Bronywyn survived.
“You really need to go get some rest, brother.” Elijah releases Rainey to clasp a hand on my shoulder. “You look dead on your feet.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” I retort.
“You’re not going to do her any good if you pass out the moment she wakes up. We will hang out here and let you know if anything changes,” Rainey promises.
I turn back to the window. The thought of a shower—of washing the events of three days ago from my skin—and sleeping for at least a handful of hours is damn alluring. But if she wakes up and I’m not here—
“Go,” Rainey says, again. “Please. You’re starting to stink.”
Finally, I nod. “Come get me the instant she wakes.”
