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“You’re bleeding.”
“I fell off the bed.”
“Stay here.” He got up, went to the bathroom.
I started rocking, still shivering, hugging my legs, staring at the hall.
He came back with a wet cloth, talking into his phone. “No. Get to the Rose Room. Now.”
He tossed his phone on the covers, then sat in front of me again and carefully dabbed at my temple.
“I need to see how bad this is,” he murmured.
I grabbed his wrist. He quit dabbing and looked into my eyes.
“Dorothy was in here. I saw her hair. I’m not kidding. I’m not making this up. And I’m not crazy.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he soothed. “All right, darling. Just try to calm down and let me see to this cut.”
“She touched me while I was sleeping.”
Ian had no time to react to that.
I screamed and pushed away from him, starting to dash across the bed, when movement came at the door.
I stopped when I saw it was Daniel, Portia running in after him.
They both stopped dead, but only Portia cried, “Oh my God! You’re hurt!”
“Go wake Stevenson. Sam. Jack. I want this house searched, top to fucking bottom,” Ian ordered.
“What? Why?” Daniel asked.
“Daphne was attacked.”
I was freaking, but I still saw Daniel’s sheer shock, then his face suffused with anger and he sprinted out of the room.
Portia darted forward. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know,” Ian answered. “She might need stitches. I need to join the search. Clean it and stay here with her. I’ll send someone in with first aid, and if she needs a doctor, find me.”
He handed the washcloth to Portia, leaned in and kissed me quickly on the lips, then he ran out.
“Oh my God, Daphne, this is crazy,” Portia said, sitting on the bed and reaching the cloth to me.
“I’ll do it.” I took it from her.
“I can help,” she said petulantly.
“I know, honey. I’m just freaking. Let me think,” I mumbled, pressing the cool, wet cloth to my head.
“You were attacked?”
“I…I don’t know. Someone was in here. I can’t think straight. I need a second.”
“I’ll get you some water. Do you want some water?”
I focused on my sister.
