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They waved over a cop, who took my directions, nodding vigorously no matter what I said. “We’ll take care of it. You rest, y’hear?”
There was no chance of me sleeping again for a very long time.
I thought about Callum’s voice and about my home. I thought about Wilder and his willingness to sacrifice his life for my stupid plan. I put my face in my hands and cried until my eyelids felt like sandpaper and I’d scared everyone around me into leaving.
I’d wanted so badly to prove I could help by coming here.
All I’d done was get people killed.
Some queen I was shaping up to be.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Light fell across my eyes and I squinted, pulling my duvet up to cover my face. It was too warm to be using a heavy down-filled comforter, but I liked the way it made me feel like I was being cuddled. It literally comforted me.
Bacon, however, was a siren song I couldn’t resist.
I pushed back the covers, blinking away the sun, and fumbled with my toes for my slippers. Warm sunlight was painted across the floor, my balcony doors fully open to let in the fresh morning air. The world smelled clean and bright, and the birds outside wouldn’t shut up about the perfect day coming.
With a lightweight kimono wrapped over my cotton nightgown, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Lina had an industrial-size grill out and was frying about seventeen pounds of bacon on it. Three cartons of eggs were stacked next to the grill, waiting their turn.
“Morning, lovey.” Lina smiled, dumping a dozen strips of bacon onto a tray covered in paper towels.
I went to grab one, but she whacked me with her spatula. Hard.
“Ow.” I yanked back my hand and gave her a pouty expression.
“You get nothing until you go talk to your uncle. Some stunt, leaving that note with me, you sneaky pup. You’re just lucky all that stomping and snarling doesn’t scare me.” She smiled again, loading more tempting bacon onto the grill.
My stomach rumbled loud enough to make her laugh.
“You’ve been home for three days, Genie-Belle. You can’t just keep hiding in your room and coming down here to sneak food from me. At some point you need to bite the bullet and go talk to him.”
She was right. I’d been wandering around the house like a ghost, entering rooms only after I knew Callum wasn’t in them. Magnolia, ignoring the possible wrath of her king, had driven me to Baton Rouge three days earlier so I could sit by Wilder’s bedside after he went through surgery to remove the bullet from his stomach. He was lucky to have his werewolf healing, as the paramedics had told me. If not for the speedy recovery time, the doctors said he would have died.
The next day he was moved to a werewolf-only medical compound at the request of Callum’s lawyers, and I was no longer allowed to go see him. I’m not sure if that was the rule or if Callum was punishing me.
Ever since, I’d been lurking like a memory, moving around in shadow and only surfacing to eat. Now I was being denied bacon, and it looked like I was going to need to put on my big-girl panties and talk to my uncle.
But first: pants.
Fully dressed, wearing my Tulane hoodie like a suit of armor, I tapped lightly on Callum’s door. Maybe he was out, or he wouldn’t hear me. There was still a chance I might be able to—
“Come in, Eugenia.”
So much for running away.
I slunk into his office, head bowed, and immediately curled myself into one of the armchairs facing his desk. I kept my gaze locked on the carpet, my shoulders stooped. If I had a tail right now, it would be between my legs.
This was how we apologized. I was trying to show him I respected his authority and was willing to yield to him.
A bit late, now.
When he didn’t speak right away, I lifted my eyes and stared at him instead of the carpet.
Callum’s neck and ears were flushed red, his salt-and-pepper hair looking more unkempt than usual, a small growth of stubble on his chin. Where he was holding the desk, his hands were shaking slightly.
I swallowed hard.
