“Is that everything, miss?” he asked when everything was set on the table. “Just sign here.” He held out the leather bill folder with the room charge docket, and I scrawled a signature onto it. Not my signature, obviously, just a signature. I wasn’t that dumb.
“That’s everything.” I smiled, holding the door while he pushed his cart out into the hall and then closing it behind him. “Oh yes, cheesy pasta. Come to mama.” I groaned aloud as I rushed over to the table to dig in. I’d skipped breakfast, thanks to a wake-up call of a different sort courtesy of Cole and River—a valid reason to skip meals if there ever was one. But now I was starved.
“Did I just hear you dirty-talking your food?” Wes snickered, coming to join me at the table and giving me an amused smile.
“That was sweet-talking, not dirty-talking, and hell yeah, you did.”
On the side of the tray was a white access key that the room service dude must have left behind. I’d take it down to reception later; surely he could wait until after I ate.
Setting it aside, I raised a forkful of pasta to my mouth right as a knock sounded on the suite door again.
Dammit. He must have noticed and come back for it. Saved me a trip down to reception though, so I sighed and placed my fork back down to pick up the card and answer the door.
“I’ll get it; you keep whispering sweet nothings to your pasta,” Wes teased, taking the key card from me and heading over to the door.
“Hey man, you forgot your key—” he started to say as he opened the door, but his words were cut short when the door burst open thanks to a heavy-booted kick, and several heavily armed men seized hold of Wesley. A gun was pressed tight against his temple and another aimed at him by a different guy before I could even stand from my seat.
It was the person who entered the room next that froze me to the spot.
“Simon?” I gasped, not totally believing my eyes. Despite my shock, I still sized up his reenforcements to find the best way to free Wesley.
My childhood friend stood there in the door to the suite looking like death. Which I guessed was damn appropriate, given I had seen him die in an avalanche!
“Hey Foxy Girl,” he sneered at me. “Bet you never thought you’d see me again.”
Stunned, I said nothing, just flicked my gaze between him and his goon squad, who were fastening a pair of handcuffs on Wesley. Worse than that, they were handcuffs like I’d never seen before… meaning I had no idea how to get him out of them.
Simon was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn that night in Alaska—I knew because the image of him being obliterated by a wall of snow and ice was imprinted on my brain like it was etched in stone—but his backup was all business. Head-to-toe black with not an inch of skin showing anywhere. They even wore heavily tinted helmets, hiding their faces from view.
“Si, this isn’t possible,” I started, and he chuckled an odd, hacking sound. His skin held an unnatural blueish tint, and his eyes were so bloodshot they almost looked to be bleeding.
“Why, Foxy? Because I’m dead?” He curled his lip at me in disgust and jabbed me in the chest with a finger. “And whose fault was that?”
“Simon, you died in an avalanche. That had nothing to do with me, but I would have killed you myself if I could have. You fucking shot me!” My wits were slowly coming back to me along with my anger. This was the boy who’d been my devoted best friend though so many horrific years of abuse, the same man who had tried to have me tortured and broken. Yeah, I should have killed him myself. “What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?”
Simon shrugged, ignoring my questions, and the foul odor of decay wafted across my nose. “Well, should have, would have, could have. Your fucking abominations and their fireballs caused that avalanche, but luckily someone was watching. Someone who knows how much I fucking hate you.”
He jabbed me in the chest, and I smacked his hand away, trying to ignore the ice-cold, waxy feeling of his skin.
“You think you’re so safe, Ban Dia. You think you’ve got it all worked out, don’t you? Mr. Gray is dead, so it’s only your dad out to get you now, right?” He leered at me with a superior look on his sallow face. “Wrong, Foxy Girl. You have a lot more enemies than you know, and some of them are closer than you might think.”
With this ominous threat, he pulled his fist back and punched me clean in the side of the face, making my head snap to the side and my breath escape in a sharp gasp. While it hurt, sure, I’d experienced worse. Even being an undead... whatever he was, Simon was no stronger than a normal human male.
Raising my hand to my face, I wiped the blood from my mouth and glared murder at my former best friend, now turned enemy.
“Oh, Simon,” I mocked with an evil grin, “you’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”
My fists curled, and the familiar surge of adrenaline poured through me as I visualized everything I wanted to do to this pathetic excuse for a human. Not even, anymore. Fuck only knew what he was now, but it didn’t matter.
“I’d think really carefully before making your next move, Kit,” Simon sneered at me, jerking his head toward my guardian, still held captive and now gagged.
“What the fuck do you want from me, Simon?” I snarled again, meeting Wesley’s panicked eyes.
What the hell do I do now? I can’t take on all of these dudes before one of them shoots Wesley… and I can’t take that risk. I won’t.
Simon snickered a sick, evil-sounding laugh as he watched me with beady eyes. “You know, it always was your most predicatable weakness, Foxy. Always throwing yourself in front of buses to save others. Has that changed?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “No, I think not. After all, your friend here doesn’t even know what species he is… let alone whether he can heal from a bullet to the head. My intel says you’re not bonded either, which means he’s not immortal.”
He paused then, letting that information sink in, and I felt sick. How the fuck did he know so much? “So, you have a choice to make. Fight, try and kill me again, and get your boyfriend shot. Or play nice and let the special ops men cuff you.”
My gaze met Wesley’s once more, and I knew what he would say. He was just as bad as me. The clear message in his eyes was “Hell yes, fight!”
But I couldn’t do it. Simon was right. Wes and I hadn’t bonded, so there was no evidence to suggest he’d survive a bullet to the brain. Certainly not enough to even risk it.
Wesley’s eyes pleaded with me not to give in as I gave him a slow, sad headshake.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to him, even though he was across the room. “I can’t lose you.”
Simon made a noise like he was dry retching, then indicated to two more black-armored men to come over and detain me, just as they had Wesley.
Shuddering, I forced myself to stay still as the two towering men crowded me, roughly grabbing my wrists and placing the unusual cuffs around them. When they closed, there was a flare of light, and the seam where they met disappeared, leaving a cool, blue glow in the metal.
“What the hell are these?” I demanded, panic overtaking my body as a quick barrage of grusome images flickered through my mind, all scenes from my nightmares and my life, sometimes both. I’d never dealt well with being restrained… unless it was River on the other end.
“Oh, you’ve never seen these before?” Simon acted innocent, and a wicked smile curved over his blue-gray face. “Try using your magic. Go on, anything. Tell you what, we’ll even take the gun away from your friend’s head.” He snapped his fingers and one of Wesley’s guards lowered his weapon.
Clearly he was taunting me—I wasn’t stupid enough not to know that was what he was doing—but at the same time, I needed to know.
Reaching inside myself, I stretched my mental fingers out for the glowing ball of my own magic and passed straight through it like it was little more than an illusion. Or I was a ghost. Frantically I reached for it again and again, to the same effect. It was there, but I couldn’t access it.