Every muscle protested, and a tic in her swollen jaw jolted to life to join the painful cacophony playing through her limbs.The reek of body odor, followed by a cloud of designer perfume, had her holding her breath, and even that hurt.She bit back a distressed cry, and breathing carefully through her mouth, shuffled down the aisle.A teen girl bounded to her feet and shot into Nyree’s path, jostling her without apology.
Nyree hissed, and a grunt escaped her.
The nearby passengers sent her disinterested looks, averting their gazes when they spotted her swollen jaw.The judgy whispers commenced.She’d tried to disguise the bruises and had done reasonably well, but nothing hid the swelling.
Once she’d ridden out the wave of pain, she shuffled toward the front door.The driver pulled away from the stop before she reached the exit, and tears stung her eyes.
“Wait, driver,” she called.
Nyree’s voice emerged at a normal register, and by a miracle, the driver—a skinny white man with a bald patch at the back of his head—heard her and slowed.
“Sorry, love,” he said, glancing at her with an apology on his narrow face.“Thought everyone made it off.”His expression shifted once he spotted her injuries.“Take your time.”
Heat flooded her cheeks, even though kindness tinged his words.He was judging her, and the knowledge galled because he’d be right in his assumptions.
Finally, she exited the bus.
“Thank you, driver,” she called.
He smiled and, with a nod, guided the bus into the flow of traffic.
Nyree hitched her handbag over her shoulder, not bracing quickly enough for the renewed flash of pain.It hit every nerve ending on the way to her ribs and chest.Once she arrived at work, she’d rest.Her receptionist job would be manageable as long as she didn’t move too fast.Besides, she’d used up her sick leave.If she’d stayed home, holed up in her apartment, her sister would’ve blabbed to her mother about Nyree’s injuries.
Her mother would sympathize and side with Ari, believing his creditable lies of illness or clumsiness as usual—if she bothered to question him.Her mother’s view came from her background and life experience, while Ari had hit upon the perfect strategy to undermine Nyree in her parent’s and sister’s eyes.
Manipulation and charm.
Her parent would blame Nyree for not keeping a clean house and providing delicious meals.It was a small thing, she’d lecture Nyree.A tiny service for her man.When were they going to marry?Living together was a sin, and each week the church ladies asked if her daughter and her fiancé had decided on a wedding date.
Ari wanted to marry, but Nyree kept fobbing him off.Recently, he’d upped his demands to marry and start a family.This relationship was hellish.If she agreed to wed Ari, she’d set herself up for constant punishment and perhaps death, all because she wanted to hide her taniwha heritage and keep her family safe.
Ari was handsome, successful, and used his charm as a weapon to draw in the unsuspecting.She’d fallen for his gambit, his seduction smooth and practiced.Extracting herself from the relationship was so much more challenging than succumbing to him.
Not even her flurry of thoughts, her regrets, her hope for the future cut through thethump,thump, thumpof her injuries, and it took her twice as long to walk down busy Emery Street to reach the offices of George Taniwha & Son.Once she arrived at the office building’s heavy double doors, she steeled herself to pull them open.She almost cried when a stranger exited and held the door for her.Nyree nodded her thanks, and even that sent a whiplash of pain through her muscles and bones.
As a taniwha, she healed faster than most humans, but this time Ari had done a fine job.She’d go to a doctor, but imagining the pitying glances from patients and staff kept her away.A wry laugh—a tad crazed—burst free as she pictured herself in the medical waiting room.Immediately, she winced, and she rode out the darts of agony that reverberated down her body with stoicism.Yep, from experience, she’d be fine in a day or two.
Nyree entered the elevator when it arrived, thankful to travel up to their third-floor office alone.Her Uncle George and her cousin, Hone, wouldn’t believe the story she intended to tell—that she’d taken a corner too fast on her bicycle.Normally, she healed overnight, or at least enough to avoid outright curiosity.She’d grown skilled at hiding injuries, but not this time.
Too bad.
Ari had made it clear their relationship was private, and she couldn’t risk the consequences right now when her finances were low and escape was impossible.
The lift dinged as it reached Nyree’s floor, and she dragged in a rapid breath on hearing voices coming from the reception area.
Familiar voices.
Nyree closed her eyes briefly, then straightened her shoulders.The small action sent discomfort swooping across her chest and down her torso, almost taking her out at the knees.
A groan squeezed past her clenched teeth, and the voices ceased.
“Nyree?”
An instant later, Jack Sullivan, one of her uncle’s investigators, poked his head around the corner.His black brows squeezed together, and he cursed.
His wife, Emma—another investigator—appeared beside him and her blue eyes shifted to warrior-fierce.
Nyree forced herself to smile and keep walking toward them.Her cousin, Hone, appeared next, then her Uncle George and Manu Taniwha, another cousin, and the dragon in charge of the local tribe.
