Page 36 of Bitten & Burned

Sixteen

BLOODROOT

Serpentine Bay, Euraline, Verdune

ANTON

I had the gift in my pocket.

Well, one gift was in my pocket. The other was in a paper bag, wrapped in soft tissue, and dangling from my fingers.

The one in my pocket was a bracelet, carved from white jade and studded with emeralds as green as the Emerald Sea. As green as her eyes.

The other, wrapped in tissue, was a pair of lace underthings. As promised.

I thought about the night before, how I’d promised to tear them off of her. It made my fangs ache.

I’d poked fun at Quil’s obsession, but here I was, utterly besotted with her myself.

I smiled, swinging my bag and whistling as I strode through the Serpentine Bay open-air market. But, as I walked, something… shifted.

Something was wrong.

The bond buzzed like a swarm of bees. A warning.

Rowena?

Maybe she was just with Quil. Maybe they were laughing about something. Maybe—

No.

This was bad.

“Godsdamnit,” I muttered, already breaking into a run.

The dock was a blur. Nothing on the deck. But as I boarded and flew down the stairs, the smell hit me.

Acrid. Human. Wrong. Mold. Rot. Sweat.

Gods, it stank.

I bolted into my bedroom and nearly dropped her gift into a puddle of blood.

Four bodies sprawled, mutilated, blood sprayed across my silk sheets and pooling at the corners of the bed. The room was a battlefield.

And in the center of it—Rowena.

Listless. Pale. Cradled in Quil’s arms, lying there, limp as a dishrag.

I choked. Dropped the bag. Slid to the floor beside them, my knees slipping in blood as I crawled over to them.

“Gods—is she—?”

“She’s alive,” Quil said.

His voice was rough, tight—the kind you use when you’re clinging to sanity by the edge of your teeth.

“But I got here too late. They were… they wanted to take her.” His jaw twitched. “They were touching her.”

He spat the word like it burned.

And he was right. In this context, it did.

Rancid. Putrid. Gods, if I’d gotten hold of them… I’d have turned them inside out. I’d have peeled the skin back from their faces last just so they could see the carnage I’d made of them.

My throat was tight. “Just touching or—?”

He nodded once.

“Well,” I said after a pause, “then you weren’t altogether too late.”

His head whipped towards me, eyes blazing. “They shouldn’t have laid their filthy hands on her at all.”

“I know that,” I said. “I only meant—I’m glad you were here, Quil.”

“I should’ve been faster,” he muttered. “I felt her. In my chest. I felt her panic.”

“Me too,” I said, softer. “Do you know who they were?”

“I got a name off the little one,” Quil said, jutting his chin towards the smallest corpse, crumpled in the corner. “She said, ‘Lady.’ Doubt it’s her real name.”

“‘Lady’ is a dog’s name,” I muttered absently.

“Yeah, well…” He didn’t finish the thought. His arms tightened around Rowena. “I should’ve boarded when you left. I waited on the dock. Thought she deserved privacy. And now—”

“I shouldn’t have left either… I wanted to… do something special for her.”

I looked down at the paper bag. Crumpled. Blood-speckled.

“She was so happy when I left her.”

Quil turned to look at me. “She was happy because she was with you.”

My throat clenched.

“This won’t taint that,” he added.

“I know, but… gods, she’s amazing. It’s the first time anyone’s ever made me feel—young.”

“That’s a trick,” Quil said. “Aren’t you nearly four thousand years old or something like that?”

“I’m three hundred and sixty-seven,” I said primly. “And I’ll thank you to remember that.”

He winced. “Sorry. I was trying to be light. Was it—too much?”

“No,” I said. “You’re fine. I’m just… shaken, that’s all.”

“Me too.”

We sat in the blood-slick quiet a beat too long.

Then I exhaled. “We need to do something about the bodies. Before dawn.”

Quil looked at me like I’d grown two heads. That he’d rather do anything than leave her here.

I raised a brow. “It will just take a moment. The crew will be back in the morning. And, while an extra sack of florins can hide a lot of things, I’d rather not test whether it can hide this.”

“I don’t want to leave her,” Quil said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Just for a moment. Help me with the bodies, then you can go back to her.”

He hesitated. Then nodded once.

“Where do I put her?”

“The lounge,” I said, standing. “It’s at the opposite end of the boat. Comfy chaise. Far from the carnage.”

I picked up the gift bag and led the way, blood squelching faintly underfoot.

Quil followed, still cradling her, his lean arms gentle for once. Soft. Gods, that was a word I never thought I’d use to describe Quil Ashborne: soft. But that was Rowena’s effect on him. Her effect on us all.

She made Vael tolerable, Quil soft, Cassian falter, and Dmitri weak. And she made me… tame.

Well, considering my first thought had been to skin the intruders alive and make them watch me do it, perhaps I wasn’t as tame as I’d previously thought. But still… a blood-soaked room would have been enough to send me into a frenzy. I would have lost more than my temper.

And yet… here I was, calmly cleaning up the mess after I’d let someone else handle it for me.

That was tame—for me.

When we reached the lounge, I set the bag on a table and gestured to the chaise.

“What’d you get her?” Quil asked, eyeing the bag.

“Oh, it's….” I hesitated, suddenly unsure. “It feels silly now. I’d planned something more extravagant for dinner tonight, but… this was just the warm-up.”

He didn’t answer.

But the way he looked at Rowena as he laid her down—carefully, reverently—said he understood.

The room was quiet again. No words, nothing but the steady thrum of guilt pouring out of both of us.

ROWENA

My neck hurt.

My chest. My arms.

Not the dull, pleasant ache of this morning. This was sharp, white hot. Not pleasure—just pain. Just… more.

“You’re okay, darling. I’ve got you…”

Anton.

His voice was like cool water on a parched throat. My eyes fluttered open to see him, looking worried. But here.

I shifted, and he quickly adjusted. “Shh… no sudden movements…”

“What…” I croaked. My voice didn’t even sound like mine.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Don’t move, okay?”

Quil.

I turned slightly. He was right there, eyes wide, but haunted.

I blinked. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Anton asked.

“No… I…”

But then it all came back.

Jolting. Bright. Rushing uncontrollably all at once.

Yellow eyes. Four pairs of them. The acrid aroma—sickening. Hands everywhere, scratching, clawing, pulling, bending.

I closed my eyes and turned into Anton’s chest.

I wanted to go back to last night. To eating fruit in bed, to toe-curling sex, to drifting to sleep in his arms.

Not this. Not this nightmare that replayed every time I blinked.

“Shh… I’ve got you,” Anton whispered. I felt his lips against my forehead.

I straightened a little, turned towards Quil, who was still kneeling beside me.

“I called for you,” I whispered. “But not out loud.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I heard you. Felt you.”

“I thought… I thought they were you, at first. But then I realized—”

Quil reached for me. “I know, baby. I know. No one’s upset with you, sweetheart.”

I hadn’t thought that, had I?

Still, tears slipped down my cheeks.

“Why?” I asked, forcing out the word.

“I don’t know,” Anton said. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” I whimpered, trying not to cry harder, but the ache in my throat and chest made it impossible. I paused, frowned, and looked around. “Wait, where’s Fig?”

Dread bloomed heavy in my chest as I struggled to stand, to get out of Anton’s arms.

“I’ll look for him, you stay there,” Quil said, holding both hands out like he was trying to coax a wild animal. Which, I suppose, I sort of was right now.

He disappeared into the hall, and I turned to Anton. “What if something happened? What if they threw him overboard, or if they… if they hurt him?” Tears welled up in my eyes, and Anton tightened his hold on me.

“He’s a phoeline, right?” He murmured. “He’ll come back.”

“Yes, but there are some things they can’t come back from. What if—”

“FOUND HIM!” Quil called.

My heart settled, but I still craned my neck to see him walk in with Fig, hopefully cradled in his arms.

Quil came through the doorframe, but with Fig dangling by his scruff.

“Give him to me!” I said, reaching out for him.

“He was in the kitchen, taking advantage of the mayhem to eat what looked to be an entire halibut.”

“Fig, no,” I said, reaching for him. He looked nonplussed. And not sorry at all. I looked at Anton. “Did you have plans for the halibut?”

“Yes, but I’m glad it kept him out of their sight,” Anton said, reaching over to scratch his ears.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him.

His mama loves him so dearly, if her heart broke, mine would be out for blood…

yes it would, yes it would,” he cooed at Fig, scratching his ears and under his chin.

I leaned over and kissed Anton on the cheek. “Thank you for not being angry about the halibut.”

“He ate the entire thing?” He asked Quil.

“Phoelines have really big appetites,” I explained. “Something to do with their higher body temperature.”

“Ah, well, I suppose that explains it.”

Footsteps echoed from the stairs.

I froze. Fear burned hot in my throat. In my skin. My belly. I clutched at Anton’s shirt and hugged Fig close to me. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. Quil?”

Quil stood slowly, moving as silently as a shadow to the door. He peeked out, then straightened and exhaled deeply.

“It’s Cass.”

Anton relaxed. I didn’t.

Was I going to be jumpy at every sound now?

“We’re down here in the lounge,” Quil called out.

Cassian appeared in the doorway a moment later, breathless, his hands braced against the frame. His eyes locked on mine.

“Good,” he nodded, his head bowing for a second like the tension had just drained out of him.

“How did you get here so fast?” I asked.

“Ran,” he said.

“From the manor?”

He nodded.