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Kade ignores her. He pushes his foot all the way down on the gas pedal and roars out of the hospital parking lot like a demon out of hell.
So, she survived. She’s the one. She’s the most irritatingly smart girl he’s ever met.
And she’s chosen her mate.
He’s vexed, pissed, positively loathsome about everything that’s happened. But there’s nothing he can do, nowhere he can go to avoid what’s about to go down. The next two lines of the prophecy hiss through his mind.
Amid darkness' dance, the cursed shall rise,
To claim and vanquish, the eternal prize.
13
Elara
Elara watches Kade peel away, leaving black tire marks on the road. She hates that her skin burns everywhere he pressed himself against her. She hates that she hasn’t turned away, even after he’s disappeared around the bend.
She hatesall of this.
Of all the things that are confusing right now, why does it have to be how she feels about Kade? He’s following her. He’s keeping secrets.
Yet, at the forefront of her mind is the way his finger and thumb gripped her chin. The way her lips tingled just at the suggestion of his nearness. What the hell is wrong with her?
Huffing, she spins to go back to her car when the sound of a recorded voice has her stopping. In part, because the words “Today, we are not sad bitches, we are bad bitches,” just filled the air, but mostly because there’s no one around.
Angling her head, Elara realizes she can hear bells tinkling, too.
The clacking of heels precedes a wild mane of honey blonde hair appearing over some cars. The woman swipes the screen ofher phone, cutting off the ringtone that just announced any sad bitches should have themselves a nappy-nap and get a snack. “Yes, of course I’ve organized that.” She huffs. “Oh, you mean Laith.”
Elara pauses at the mention of her friend’s name.
The woman strides across the parking lot toward the main entrance of the hospital, the autumn-colored layers of her skirt billowing with each step. Her white dress shirt is crisp and bright, brushed by the biggest earrings Elara’s ever seen. Ones adorned with tiny bells.
The woman stops. “What do you mean, the kombucha order has been delayed?” She runs an agitated hand through her mane of hair. “You know we need that delivered, Ranch.”
Elara knows she shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but she doesn’t move. Technically, she shouldn’t be able to hear this conversation, except she’s developed freakishly good hearing. If things were different, she would never have heard Laith’s name. But they aren’t, so here she is.
The woman spins on her nude pumps. “I’m coming back. We’ll need to fly to Belarus immediately.” She shakes her head. “I’ll send Laith a text. I’ve already spoken to the doctor and she said he’ll be out tomorrow. He’ll be fine. I’ve already stocked the fridge with those delicious gluten-free muffins we’re launching next week.”
Elara’s eyes widen as she watches the woman hurry away in a flutter of skirts and a jingle of bells. She’s pretty sure she just saw Laith’s mother.
Leaving before she even saw him.
Gravitating back toward the hospital before she’s really conscious of what she’s doing, Elara slips back inside. She makes her way to Laith’s room, her chest hollow and aching.
She stops as she reaches it, registering he’s asleep through the window. Elara leans against it, her head pressed to the glass.Laith’s blonde locks brush his forehead, his handsome face relaxed and almost vulnerable. His bare shoulders, toned and muscled, are visible above the sheet pulled up to his chest. Along with the white gauze covering his wounds…
This is who she may have hurt?
What kind of monster is she?
She makes a vow, then and there, to look out for Laith, no matter what happens. Somehow, inexplicably, they’re in this together.
“Delivery for Laith Landon?” asks a voice behind her.
Elara turns around to see a young man carrying a large bouquet of flowers and bottles of what suspiciously looks like kombucha at the nurses’ desk. The nurse sitting on the other side waves toward Laith’s room with barely a glance.
“You have a lovely day, too,” the young man says cheerily before turning away.
