Page 19 of Dream Lost (The Fae Universe #12)

19

H ours later, Bridget paced up and down her rooms. She had piles of books from the library she had been going through but still hadn’t found something that fit the creature that they were dealing with. There were a few possibilities that she had put in a maybe pile.

Until Bas woke up and gave her more information to go on, she was at a dead end. That left her alone with her thoughts, and that wasn’t a good place to be.

She was worried about Bas and kept replaying what had happened that day over and over in her mind. There was no way she could have helped him more than she had, but she hated he had gone to face the creature alone.

Everyone kept saying she had magic, but she didn’t see the point of it if she couldn’t help out when she was needed.

They kept on saying she was a part of the family too, and that made less sense than the part about her having magic. She didn’t know if it was something they said to everyone, if it was a joke, or if they actually meant it.

She didn’t have anything to offer them. Magic she couldn’t use and a whole lot of childhood trauma didn’t make her any good to a family like the Greatdrakes. She hadn’t earned her place, and she always had to earn her place no matter what she did. Didn’t she?

She blew out a frustrated breath. She wanted everything that they offered, and she wanted Bas. Her reaction to him being hurt that day had driven that home to her in an uncomfortable way. She never got attached to people so quickly.

It would hurt twice as bad when Bas realized she wasn’t worth it. It scared her in a way she hadn’t been for a very long time.

There was a tingle behind her eyes, and a sleepy voice touched her mind. You okay? I can hear you stressing from here.

Bas! You’re awake. Thank fuck, you’re going to live.

I’m not hurt, just have a craving for chocolate torte.

Bridget swallowed hard. She did need to have that conversation with him sooner rather than later. She owed it to him before they let whatever was happening between them grow any more.

I could do with some chocolate torte. I’m still going to need that rum though.

Pajama party? I’ll be at your door in five.

I’ll be ready . His presence let go of her mind, and Bridget leaned forward to grip her knees and breathe. “He’s okay. Not dying.”

Bridget went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her hair. Not that it did much good. She was in baggy pj bottoms and an old shirt with a faded print of Loki on it. He did say a pajama party, so she didn’t bother to change.

There was a soft tap at her door, and she rushed to open it. Bas was wearing gray pajamas and a black T-shirt. Bridget stared up at his tired eyes and messy hair and swallowed hard. Lust shot through her like adrenaline. Yeah, she was completely gone on Bas Greatdrakes and to hell with the consequences.

Bridget crashed into him, her arms going around his waist and squeezing him tight. Bas hugged her back without any hesitation.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, or I will kick your ass,” she murmured into his warm chest.

“I’m sorry I scared you. It was more of a magic drain than I expected.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “Let’s go downstairs, and I’ll tell you what happened in Lily’s head.”

Bridget nodded and reluctantly pulled out of the embrace. “You better because I was really freaked out.”

Bas kissed her forehead, and her worry softened. “Sorry. I should have warned you magic drain might have been a possibility.”

He took her hand, and as they walked downstairs, Bridget told him everything that had happened since he had passed out.

“Did my family feed you at least?” he asked like that was more of a priority than dream monsters.

“Yeah, your dad heated up some minestrone he found in the freezer. He said you keep it stocked,” Bridget replied.

“I have to. None of the rest of them can cook anything decent. I’m glad they went with the freezer option and didn’t try to make you something from scratch,” Bas said, making her laugh. “What? It’s the truth.”

Bridget pulled on his hand. “You are seriously worrying about that when some creature tried to suck the life out of you today? Why is it such a concern if people eat or not?”

Bas ran a hand through his curls. “I’ll tell you when I have the rum. Gods, I need a drink.”

Bridget took up a seat at the counter and watched Bas move around the kitchen. She shouldn’t find it so sexy watching him measure flour, but there she was, lusting away. She blessed whatever gods invented his gray pjs, too, because damn .

Bas opened a door at the other side of the kitchen and disappeared through it for a few moments before returning with a dusty bottle of dark, spiced rum. He poured two shots into his mixing bowl before getting some glasses and pouring a few fingers in each.

Bas smiled as he swirled the liquid. “The color reminds me of your eyes.”

“Maybe my dad was a pirate,” she replied with a laugh. “With my mother, anything is possible. Slainte!”

“Slainte,” Bas said, tapping her glass against his before they drank. “So you really don’t like your mom, huh?”

Bridget drained her glass and reached for the bottle to refill it. “Straight to it then?”

Bas fixed her with his steady gaze. “You need to tell me about it, love. I try not to pry as a rule, but when I woke tonight, it was with your thoughts and anxiety beating at me. Whatever you feel is so deep and dark and horrible, know that I can handle it.”

Bridget’s shoulders hunched in. “You can’t say that. You don’t even know what it is.”

“I know you’re not going to let me get any closer to you until you get it off your chest.” Bas topped up his own glass and sipped. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine. That way, we are even in the vulnerability department.”

Bridget stared at the dark amber in her glass and thought about it. It was a fair deal. “I will, but I still want that torte, so get cooking, Greatdrakes. It will be easier if you’re not looking at me with those big eyes of yours.”

“Fair enough. This torte won’t make itself,” Bas said and got back to doing his kitchen wizardry.

“What I said the other night about having no idea who my father is is the truth. Although I do like the idea of being a long- lost daughter of an Arabian prince, but that’s my obsession with A Thousand and One Nights talking,” Bridget began. The first glass of rum she had downed was filling her with warmth, so she nursed the second one.

“When I was little, I had a very chaotic life. My mother didn’t see any reason why she should slow down her lifestyle because she had a kid. I was left alone in hotel rooms, so I read a lot. My schooling was scattered, to say the least. My mother was always on the prowl for the perfect, rich man who was going to sweep her off her feet. She found George by pure accident. His church and the party she was attending were at the same hotel. She changed after him, wanted to reform herself and begin her life anew and all that crap. The only problem was me, the illegitimate brown daughter who was a constant reminder of her party days.”

Bas paused in stirring the chocolatey mixture. “So much for Christian charity.”

“Ha! Yeah. I was precocious and didn’t know why I got in trouble when I asked why Jesus was white in all their pictures because historical accuracy demands that he be brown like me,” Bridget laughed, but it just came out awkward. She had another mouthful of rum and watched Bas pour the mixture into a cake tin and set it in the oven. It was a nice sight, especially in those gray pants.

“George didn’t start hitting me until after they were married. If they wanted to get rid of me, they could have just sent me to boarding school, but they didn’t want to waste their money. He started slapping it into me that he was the head of the house and I was only there because of his kindness.”

“And your mother did nothing?” Bas asked, his voice deadly soft.

“Nope. She wanted him more than me. It went on for years, but in that time at least I got to go to school. She got pregnant, and I was almost old enough to leave home. I just needed to wait it out.”

Bridget rubbed at her arm, where it had already begun to ache. She had to tell him. Had to get it over with, so if he was disgusted by her, she wouldn’t have let her feelings go far enough to have a broken heart over him. Bas leaned against the back counter, letting her have space.

“The night I was going to leave, everything was in place. I thought they would be happy to have me finally gone. George lost it. He had expected me to look after the baby. Keep the house clean. Be his idea of a good daughter and not leave his home until he found a suitable husband for me. I told him legally he couldn’t stop me, and then he really lost it.

“The baby was crying in the crib beside me as George laid into me. Broke my arm and some ribs. I had a moment where I thought, This is it . This is the night he kills me . But I was lucky. Stupid lucky. The fae returned that night. They hit London so fast, there hadn’t been any warnings. George was ripped off me. Two fae, a man and a woman, had come to collect the baby. They had killed my mother on the way in,” Bridget swallowed hard and dared to look at him.

“They held George and gave me their knife. They really didn’t like that he was beating a child. They said it was justice. I was angry. I took the knife, and I stuck it into George’s heart. They took the baby and the bodies away. Everything is a bit of a blur after that. The cops and ambulance came and saw the mess. Knew the bodies would be hanging beside the river like all the rest.”

Bas let out a soft sound. “Fuck, Bridget. That’s the reason you said that they saved you.”

“They did save me. I got all of George’s and Mom’s money. Sold their fancy apartment in London, and I got the fuck out of there. Changed my name so no one could ever find me. Not that I thought anyone would really come looking. I wanted to start a new life here, and I have. And that’s the big dark secret, Bas. No one has ever wanted me, and I killed my stepfather and let everyone believe it was the fae. I don’t regret it. I would do it again.”

“Good,” Bas said, bringing her up short.

“That’s not the reaction I thought you would have.”

Bas pushed off the counter and approached her slowly, like she was a skittish animal he didn’t want to scare. “You are a survivor, and I don’t blame you for killing him. In fact, it’s good that he’s not still alive because I would do more to him than give him a quick death.”

His eyes were glowing, and now Bridget knew that it was his dragon side shining through. It look pissed.

“Yeah? I thought you wouldn’t...that you would be horrified. You guys are such nice people, and you keep saying shit like ‘Welcome to the family,’ and you have no idea that I’m a murderer,” Bridget rambled.

“We don’t consider that murder, love. That’s self-defense. You’re so fucking strong. Of course, we want you in this family. You are an incredible person and are going to be an amazing magician,” Bas said, cupping her cheeks with his big hands. “You are perfect for me, and if you think your past is enough for me to let you go, you’re very wrong. You’re mine, Bridget Hawkyns, and I don’t care if I have to spend the next hundred years proving it.”

Bridget’s eyes filled with horrible, hot tears. “Please, kiss me before I make a damn fool of myself.”

Bas obliged her by laying soft kisses on her cheeks and nose before taking her mouth with his. It was rum and smoke and so much tenderness that a few tears of relief slipped out anyway. He was gentle with her, treating her like she was something to be savored and treasured.

“Hmm, that’s right. You are a treasure. My treasure. And don’t you forget it,” Bas said, wiping her tears away with a brush of his thumbs.

Bridget rested her forehead against his chest. “You really need to teach me how to not throw my thoughts at you,” she sniffed. “I can’t be thinking of brick walls all day.”

Bas kissed the top of her head. “I can if you want, but I like your thoughts. I’ll never go walking about in your head without permission either. Unless you want me to.”

“And when would I want you to?” Bridget asked with a soft laugh.

Bas brushed his mouth over her ear, and her fingers tightened in his shirt.

“Ninety percent, remember?” he whispered.

Goose bumps broke out over her arms. “How could I forget.”