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Pain explodes in my every joint, one of my eyes is too swollen to see with and my lips feel too big for my face.
I think something is fractured or bruised in my chest, too, because breathing is similar to hiking Everest with a broken leg.
Logically, I know I need to see a doctor, but I’d rather die than go to the hospital.
Yes, Gwen is alive, but I’ve been traumatized by hospitals ever since they placed a stillborn baby in my arms, and I haven’t dealt with that trauma or any of the other traumas in my life.
I don’t know how long I walk, but it’s long enough that I lose feeling in my legs, get weird looks from dispassionate New Yorkers, and collapse against a wall a time or two—or a dozen.
Finally, I manage to catch a taxi and throw myself inside. The driver stares at me through the rearview mirror, his brown eyes appearing hazy and demon-like in the mirror. “Are you okay, miss? Should I take you to the hospital?”
“No…not the hospital…” I blurt my address incoherently, my lips barely moving, then I collapse against the faux leather seat.
I shake my head every now and again, fighting the black dots that spread across my vision and the lull of unconsciousness.
I just need to go home and pull myself together and then report this—
My chest clenches when the car stops and I lift my head but don’t find the building I live in.
Instead, I’m staring into a toothy demon at the top of a large black metal gate that’s fresh out of a gothic film.
Kingsley’s mansion.
Damn it. What am I doing here?
“We’re here, miss,” the driver says, his voice sounding far away.
“This isn’t my apartment…”
“This is the address you gave me. Do you want me to take you someplace else?” His eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, blurry and fresh out of a thriller movie.
“No, thank…you…” I shove a few bills in his hand and practically wrench myself out of the car.
He remains there, for a while, probably thinking I’m crazy. Or maybe he’s one of them and they sent him to finish the job.
It takes all the strength I have to approach the gate, dragging my feet and gasping for air.
The taxi finally leaves, and I release a breath. Then my legs decide it’s as good a time as any to abandon me.
I’m ready to slam against the ground, but I fall straight into warm arms.
“Aspen?”
His hard face stares down at me with a frown that’s as dark as a demon lord.
And it shouldn’t make me feel safe.
Or peaceful.
Or fucking right.
But it does.
My fingers dig into his arms and I swallow my own blood as I croak, “I…had nowhere else to go…”
I don’t realize the gravity of my confession when the darkness finally whisks me away.
8
