“Sloane said he fought a car.”
That had to be the wooziness talking. There was no way her mate fought a car, of all things. Whatever had happened, he needed to be tended to, though.
Stumbling to one side, she tried to walk in the general direction of where Kaz stored his dufflebag.
A clawed hand grasped her shoulder, steadying her before she could trip over Kaz’s boots. “What are you doing?”
“He needs…”Gods, why is it so hard to think?“He needs the first aid kit. Bandages. Venom pills.”
“You are in no state to be administering medical care, little witch. Come on.” Delilah was unexpectedly gentle as she guided Atria up onto the mattress. She even helped her with her sandals.
Atria tried to protest, but the words felt sluggish and foreign in her mouth.
“Shush, my girl.” Gloved hands pushed her down into the divot beside her mate, who immediately rolled over to pin her there with an arm and one heavy thigh. As soon as he had her in his arms, the furrow between his brows smoothed out.
“But…” Atria tried to think. She tried to remember what she had to do, what was important. It was so hard with the drumming in her head and all that popping, fizzing magic. Kaz’s poor hands. There were people she needed to talk to. Fracture to debrief. Notes to go over.Isn’t there also a man in Delilah’s trunk?
“But I have to— don’t I…”
“You don’t have to do anything. You have a big day tomorrow, remember? Let me fix the boy up while you rest.” Delilah leaned her long torso over the end of the nest to give first Kaz, then herself a smacking kiss to the forehead. “Nighty-night, my favorite little empath. Try to relax. He won’t wake up until well after you have to leave for the convention hall tomorrow morning, so there’s no use worrying.”
He wouldn’t be awake for her presentation? A stab of anxiety managed to pierce the cotton veil in her mind.No, I can’t do this without Kaz.It was bad enough without Ruby, but without her mate in the audience, there was no way she’d be able to walk out on the stage.
But I might have to.It was her fault he was indisposed, after all, and it wasn’t like she could skip it after all they’d done to get there. Whether Kaz was awake or not, sheneededto give the presentation.
I just hope she’s wrong,she thought, cuddling close to her mate.Even Seerers have to be wrong sometimes.
She could hear the smile in Delilah’s voice when she added, “And remember: don’t eat a big breakfast tomorrow. You’ll throw up if you do.”
“Huh?”
The door shut with a soft click, plunging the nest into complete darkness. Atria struggled to stay awake and think about everything that had happened, the rapidly developing bond, her presentation, Nicolas,all of it,but it was an uphill battle. The soft darkness, her mate’s even breathing, his spicy scent, the relentless, drugging exhaustion…
Her eyes closed for just a second. Just to rest them.
And then she was out.
ChapterFifty-Three
Kaz woke with a splitting headache,a raging hardon, and an empty nest.
Lurching into a sitting position, barely awake and completely disoriented, he bellowed,“Atria!”
He swung his arms wide, knocking clumsily into pillows and blankets and carefully placed clothing that smelled like her, like them. His hands screamed in protest as he jostled them. They were stiff, too. He could barely move them.
Why did his hands hurt? Why were they wrapped in bandages? Fuck, it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. Atria’s scent was relatively fresh, but not enough to indicate she’d simply gotten up to use the bathroom or something. Instinct screamed that she wasgone.
Can’t be gone. Can’t lose her.
He had gotten her back, hadn’t he? His mind was so fuzzy that the memories of the previous day were like a haze — all color and feeling, no specifics. He remembered being afraid, more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. He remembered that he’d lost her. He remembered feeling so sick with emptiness that he couldn’t function.
And then—What?
A red car. An enigmatic smile. A flash of hurt. Light slanting through blinds. Soft touches on his face, his hair. The taste of her on his tongue. Desperation. So much desperation. The scent of blood in the air.
Then nothing.
Not the nothingness of a tampered memory, which he knew how to spot. Not the nothingness of over-indulgence or drugs.
