Stricken (The War Scrolls Book 1) (14 page)

Without him, her mind bounced in a thousand different directions.

“This is such a mess,” she muttered to Zee as he pounced around the room, completely unaffected by all the changes that had taken place over the last few days. He seemed as content in the small hotel room as he had been at Killian’s house or in her and Mel’s apartment. The kitten was resilient, more so than she, because she felt anything but comfortable.

She flung herself down on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling.

“You have to deal with it,” she muttered to herself. Ha! If that were half as easily done as said, she’d be a whole lot more comfortable. She shifted her gaze from the ceiling to the phonebook situated beside the phone on the small desk. Somewhere between those pages were the answers to at least some of the questions rattling around in her mind.

What if her friends were gone?

What if they weren’t?

Had they spent the last four months hiding out like Killian said others had?

Did they live in fear?

Aubrey desperately wanted to believe her father had known nothing about
La Morte Nera
, but she couldn’t talk herself into trusting that desire. There were too many coincidences for her to give in to the naïve little voice whispering that he hadn’t known a thing.

Her father had known; she was sure of it.

And she had to find out what he’d known.

For her sake and for Killian’s.

Why had the warrior pulled away from her today?

Was the thought of being with a human truly so abhorrent to him? Or was it
her
?

“What am I doing?” she whispered, squeezing her eyes closed and shaking her head as if that might clear her mind of the blue-eyed Halfling. It didn’t.

As if her restless thoughts had summoned him, the door opened, and he stepped into the room. Aubrey sat up.

The bright blue of his eyes hit her like a fist when his gaze settled on her.

“Hi,” she whispered after swallowing against the lump in her throat.

He held up a paper bag. “I brought you something to eat.”

“Thank you.”

Neither moved.

Aubrey stared up at him. He stared back, barely seeming to breathe.

The memory of his lips on hers nudged at her mind.

Would that kiss be the only one they ever shared?

The possibility made her sad.

“You—” Killian tore his gaze from hers and raked his free hand through his hair before depositing the paper takeout bag on the desk.

Aubrey waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

“What’s the plan?” she asked, unwilling to sit in awkward silence.

“Abriel and Dom will visit the lab tonight to see if they can find anything.” He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the desk and started toward her, holding it out as though it was a peace offering.

“I’m not going with them?”

Killian shook his head. “Not yet.”

“They’re breaking in?”

“It’ll be easier than trying to Persuade the guards to let them in.”

“Oh.” She sighed, relieved she didn’t have to go, and then took the proffered paper, carefully avoiding touching his hands. Every time his skin met hers, her heart raced a little faster. “What’s this for?”

“We need a layout if you can remember it,” he said. “Where your father worked in the building, where they stored any physical data…” He gave her a small, uncomfortable smile. “Anything helpful.”

Aubrey bent her head over the little notepad and began jotting. Her hand shook as she drew a vague floor plan. She hadn’t been a frequent visitor to her father’s lab and didn’t remember it well. If anything had been renovated since her last visit, her drawing would be useless.

Killian moved out of her line of sight. The smell of greasy fast food wafted through the room along with the rustle of paper and the crinkle of a wrapper.

Aubrey closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember anything else about the lab, but could pull nothing more than hazy memories to the surface. That bothered her. Her father’s research had been such a big part of his life, but all she could recall were vague impressions.

The things she wished she could forget—the stench of char in the air, the sight of Aaron’s blistered, reddened arm, the way her father’s eyes glazed over as he took his last breath, and the stench of urine and floor wax permeating every inch of the psych ward…those memories were seared into her mind.

“Do you ever wish you could forget everything and start over?” she asked Killian, popping her eyes open to look at him.

He reclined against the wall beside the desk, watching her.

“No,” he said.

“Oh.” She frowned.

“Have you ever read
The Old Man and the Sea
?”

She nodded, setting the notepad and pen aside.

“Do you remember how the old man always dreamed of lions?”

“I remember,” she said. “He always wondered why they were the only things left.”

“Memory is like that. When you shut things out, the sense of kinship you feel to the people in your life—to the places and things that were important to you—begins to fade away. Sometimes, you think the loss of kinship hurts less than what you can’t or won’t remember, that the lions guard against the more painful memories teeming below the surface. But that’s not always true.” He met her gaze, solemnity burning in the Fallen-blue depths of his eyes. “Sometimes, the lions are the enemy.”

“I mostly remember the stuff that hurts.” Aubrey rose from the bed. “The way my father looked at me when he told me Aaron was dead. The way the fire twisted and charred the porch swing.” She shook her head. “I thought I could outrun those memories. I thought if I ran far enough, fast enough, time would wash them away and it wouldn’t hurt anymore, but I think I might have been wrong. Those bad memories are still there, and most of the time, I can’t find the good ones. I don’t remember the sound of my dad laughing or the exact shade of Aaron’s eyes. Or the smell of home. I never meant to forget those things.”

Killian stepped forward, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. He still seemed so big to her. He still overwhelmed her. But he didn’t frighten her anymore.

“You look tired.” She fought the urge to lift her hand to touch his gorgeous face.

“I am,” he said, the corner of his lips turning up in a half smile.

“Oh.”

He stared down at her, his half smile slipping. A dizzying parade of emotions swirled through his eyes. She couldn’t read them all, but she understood enough. He felt as torn as she did.

“Will I remember you three years from now?” she whispered, her heart aching with the fear that she would forget him as she had so much else…and with the fear that she would remember him. That she would survive this nightmare and he would haunt her for the rest of her days like so much else did.

“Do you want to remember me?” He took another step in her direction.

“I don’t know.” She frowned, confused. “You make me feel like maybe the world isn’t so bad. Like maybe I’m safe with you. I don’t think I want to forget that.”

Killian tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek gently in one big hand. “You are safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Aubrey.”

She stared at him for a long, silent moment. He’d promised before that he wouldn’t hurt her, but even then an unspoken fear had stood between them like a wall. A little voice whispered that, if she got too close, he would hurt her as badly as the things in her past hurt. That voice had stopped whispering when he’d kissed her today, and wasn’t that odd?

“You hurt me today.”

He bowed his head, letting his hand fall away from her face. “I’m sorry.”

Her heart ached a little at the agonized way he said it. As if it shamed him to know he’d hurt her. As if, maybe, he cared more than he should too.

“Why did you?” she asked, not accusing, but curious. She wanted to understand him. No, she
needed
to understand him on some level she couldn’t even explain to herself. “You wanted me, didn’t you?”

His gaze sought hers, honesty shining from his angel-bright eyes. “More than you know.”

Aubrey took a deep breath, letting her lungs fill with air even as her heart filled with his confession. And just as quickly, the buoyant feeling vanished. “It doesn’t change anything, though, does it?” she whispered.

“Do you want it to?”

She hesitated for a long moment, unsure. And then her shoulders slumped, the breath she’d taken expelling in a long sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Killian gave her a sad smile and reached for her again. He swept a finger beneath her eye, collecting the teardrop she hadn’t even realized had fallen. “No apologies,” he whispered, bringing his finger to his mouth. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and lapped that single bead of moisture from his fingertip. “You owe me nothing.”

If that was true, why did she feel like crying?

Chapter Thirteen

Killian examined Aubrey’s drawing as she ate, unable to look at her. If he did, he would do something dishonorable. Such as kiss her a second time. As much as he wanted to do exactly that, she didn’t. That made all the difference in the world to him.

Is this how it feels to be bonded, then?

Only a handful of Fallen had mated in the last two hundred years, but it had been enough to leave an impression. He’d seen the pain in their eyes when their mates were unhappy. Seen the way they gravitated toward each other whether they wished to or not. Aubrey might not belong to him like that, but he belonged to her now, and what she needed came first.

Funny how an entire life could change so quickly, so completely, but his had. From the moment he’d lifted Aubrey into his arms that first night, his life had begun to reorder itself. He doubted she even knew he’d held her small body on his lap during the drive or that he’d been the one who had tucked her into his bed afterward.

She’d felt good in his arms. Warm and soft, and somehow a perfect fit.

The center of his world had started shifting then. In increments at first, subtle changes he could follow like a line drawn on paper. Admiration of her spirit. Appreciation for her beauty and strength. A desire to protect her. And then more rapidly. The entire ground had shifted beneath his feet from one moment to the next, and he couldn’t even say for sure when it had happened. In her apartment, when she’d acted to save his life? Later, when she’d curled into his side and cried on his shoulder? When he’d watched her talking with his blade-brothers, or sleeping in his bed? The first time he’d almost kissed her, in the living room with Abriel and Dom mere feet away?

He didn’t suppose pinpointing the exact moment mattered much.

He’d given an oath to his people, to give up all claims to humanity and live as Fallen, rubbing elbows with his mother’s people but never touching them, never getting close to them. He didn’t know why God had chosen to bond him to a human, but he could no more break his oath to the Fallen than he could promise Aubrey facing her past wouldn’t hurt.

“Your father worked on the third floor?” he asked.

Her drawing didn’t give them much to go on. A basic layout of the building, and two question marks. One beside what she thought might be her father’s former office, and another beside the records room.

“I can’t remember exactly where. I only remember pushing the button for the third floor.”

Once more, Killian wished he could make this easier for her, but he knew from experience it didn’t work that way. Thomas Wolfe had been correct when he’d said that one couldn’t go home again. There was no reclaiming the halcyon days of youth and innocence. When those were gone, they were gone forever. But the good parts of her past didn’t have to remain buried beneath broken dreams and the stench of char.

If she’d let him, he could show her that.

“Have you thought about visiting your old home while we’re here?” he asked, setting her drawing aside.

She faced away from him, her hair tumbling down her back in soft waves and her shoulders hunched as she chewed mechanically. “There’s nothing left,” she said. “The fire destroyed everything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

They sat in silence for a long moment before Killian felt compelled to speak again. “The good memories might still be there.”

“Maybe.”

“Going back to see would be worth the risk, wouldn’t it?”

“What if it isn’t?” she asked, turning slowly in her chair to face him. Her eyes were wide and filled with worry. Her voice shook.

“Then at least you know.” He touched her cheek, cupping her face in his hand for a moment. Feeling her soft skin on his was like a balm to his soul. He could easily become addicted to the warmth and comfort touching her afforded him. “Isn’t that better than always wondering?”

“I don’t know.” She frowned, her expression troubled, hesitant, but thoughtful.

He let his hand fall from her face then grabbed her drawing and his veggie burger. “I’ll take this to Dom and Abriel. If you need anything, call for me.”

Aubrey nodded, her brow furrowed.

Killian couldn’t help but smile as he slipped from the room. The fact she even considered his suggestion pleased him. He’d expected a resolute no, but the beautiful little Elioud quickly stealing his heart had a way of surprising him.

***

By the time Killian returned, Aubrey had fallen asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow. He watched the gentle cadence of her breath and the flutter of her lashes against her cheeks for long moments before the desire to touch her overwhelmed him. He took two steps in her direction and then stopped.

He slipped out of the room as silently as he had gone in, leaving her to sleep in peace. He prowled around outside, watching for any sign of danger. He didn’t know if the scent his blade-brothers had found belonged to her friends or not, but he’d seen too much in the last months to become complacent now. If there were Elioud shifters here, they would not get near Aubrey until he decided differently.

And if her friends were infected?

He and Aubrey hadn’t broached the realities of that subject yet. He could only pray her friends were okay. Her heart would shatter if they were not. If he had to kill them, she would never forget that. And quite possibly never forgive him.

By midnight, Dahmiel and Abriel were itching to head to the lab. What little Aubrey remembered simply hadn’t been enough to go on, but Killian was certain that if anyone could find something of use in the records, it would be Abriel.

And Dom could get them in and out of the building with ease. He had an eye for detail that had saved Killian’s life more than once. His blade-brother was a brilliant tactician and could assess any situation in the blink of an eye. Dom knew when to take a gamble and when to let a situation ride, and his intuition rarely led him astray. Killian had been a fool to think he could hide his growing infatuation with Aubrey from his blade-brother. He missed nothing. Ever.

“Be careful,” he said, clasping Dom’s arm as they prepared to head out.

“Always am.” Dom’s blue eyes gleamed with excitement.

“We will,” Abriel said, more subdued than their irrepressible brother. He clasped Killian’s shoulder for a moment and met his gaze. “Be careful with her.”

Killian nodded before ducking from their hotel room, his blade-brothers following behind him. Dom and Abriel disappeared down the stairs, and he let himself into Aubrey’s room. His gaze went to the bed, automatically seeking out his little Elioud as he had every other time he’d checked in on her. This time, though, she wasn’t curled up beneath the sheets, sleeping. Even without the bond, he could hear her moving around behind the bathroom door.

“Aubrey?” he called, closing the front door behind him.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Killian paced around the small room as he waited. He felt caged, as if staying behind had forced him into iron bars. Was that what impending death felt like? A weight upon one’s chest? An unseen enemy one couldn’t fight?

He’d devoted his life to the Fallen, and when he died, he would leave this life with little more than a quickly fading ripple. If the Fallen survived, they would not remember him fondly. Perhaps would not think of him at all. But he wanted his life to mean something to someone. He wanted it to mean something to Aubrey.

When he was gone, he wanted her to think of him and smile.

Water ran in the bathroom for a moment before shutting off.

Killian stopped pacing and turned to face the door.

Aubrey stepped out slowly, her hair a tangle around her face. The shadows beneath her eyes were fainter, but her expression was tense and drawn. Something weighed heavily on her mind, dimming her aura.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

She scrutinized him for a moment, her hand still on the doorknob.

“Do you really think going to see the house will help?”

“I don’t know.”

Aubrey bit her lip and nodded before lifting her eyes to his. “Can we go tomorrow?”

“We can,” he said.

Her shoulders drooped, a sigh whispering from her lips. “Thank you.”

Killian stared at her, proud of her unwavering courage. “You’re welcome,” he murmured.

She stood there for a moment and then shook her head. “Have Abriel and Dom left yet?”

“Yes. A few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Aubrey fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, twisting the bottom around one finger and then unwinding it. She took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to him. “I’m scared,” she whispered, her voice strained, fragile. “I’m so scared, Killian.”

Her bottom lip trembled.

Killian strode toward her, unable to stop himself from reaching out to her when she so clearly needed him. She looked at him for a second, her expression torn, and then stepped into the circle of his arms. He closed them around her, pulling her into his chest.

Her body trembled against his.

“Shh,” he crooned. “It’s okay.”

“What if…what if—?” She buried her face in his chest, unable to finish the question.

But he didn’t need the bond or mindreading Talent to know where her thoughts were. Fear hung like a shroud around her. “Whatever they find, we’ll deal with it,” he whispered, breathing her in. She smelled so good. Felt so perfect in his arms. How could that be wrong? Holding her felt right, natural. As if he’d only been waiting to live until she came into his life.

“But what if—?”

He tilted her face up to his.

“We’ll deal with it, no matter what.” He didn’t care if her father had created the virus, studied the virus, or had known nothing about the virus. Whatever his blade-brothers found, whatever
they
found, Aubrey would not suffer for it.

She examined his face for a long moment and then exhaled deeply and laid her head against his chest. “Okay,” she said, giving in to him.

Killian closed his eyes, reveling in the peace that came with having her in his arms. Soon enough, she would find herself again, but for this moment, at least, he could hold her close as he wanted.

***

Aubrey fell back to sleep in his arms, her hands tucked beneath her face, and her soft curves pressed into his side. She slept deeply as he held her. The way her lips moved in her sleep, as if she whispered her dreams to him, captivated Killian. She never said a word, of course, but he felt connected to her in a way he couldn’t explain.

No Fallen had ever mated with a human, not even one of the Elioud. Even those who had chosen exile for a human had not been bonded. To consider such a thing as possible defied God on a level most Fallen dared not contemplate. They’d been cast from Heaven for taking humans to bed. Why would God allow one of his damned warriors to bond with the race they were ever meant to protect? It was unthinkable.

But Killian’s bond with Aubrey didn’t feel like an affront to God. It felt right to him, as if she had been designed by God Himself just for Killian. As if—despite how his mere existence shamed the Fallen—God had seen something in him worthy of such an amazing gift. Aubrey had been created to complete him.

He would cherish that extraordinary fact until he drew his last breath.

Near three a.m., his phone vibrated in his back pocket. His blade-brothers were back.

He brushed Aubrey’s hair away from her face, allowing his fingertips to trail along the soft plane of her cheek. He didn’t want to move, but he had no choice.

He sighed and shifted away from her, easing her body down to the bed. She mumbled in her sleep and then curled into a ball. She made herself so small when she slept, as if she could physically hide from the things haunting her nights. The sight pierced his heart.

“I’ll be back soon, little warrior,” he whispered to her, climbing to his feet.

Zee mewled from beneath the blankets as Killian pulled them over Aubrey. The kitten poked his head out, yawned, and then looked at Killian with narrowed, sleepy eyes, seeming to ask where he was going so late.

“Guard her,” he told the kitten, scratching the little hellcat between the ears.

Zee mewled again before burrowing into the blankets.

Dom and Abriel waited for him outside, both lounging against the railing surrounding the second floor of the hotel.

A young couple climbed the stairs on the far side of the parking lot, a tiny babe asleep in her father’s arms. Neither noticed Killian and his blade-brothers as they trudged upstairs. Humans were so oblivious. They minded their business, rarely noticing the things happening around them. When they did notice, they pretended otherwise. Killian had never understood that human failing. They missed so much and did so purposefully. Did obliviousness make them feel more secure?