Stricken (The War Scrolls Book 1) (6 page)

She listened as an explanation began to pour from her mouth in a soft whisper.

“He grabbed me on the way home from school one afternoon.”

“What did he do to you?”

“He took me to a little hunting cabin and tied me up. I was there for three days. When Aaron found me, I was dehydrated and in shock. They took me to the hospital.” She bit her lip, remembering the broken bones and accompanying agony as if they’d happened to someone else.

“How long were you there?” Killian stroked her cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind.

She squeezed her eyes closed—whether in horror at her confession or in pleasure from his soft touch, she couldn’t say. Both made something rise inside of her that seemed too large for her to contain. She fought it anyway.

“A week,” she whispered.

“Liar,” he mouthed again, tracing her bottom lip with his finger. “How long?”

“Three weeks,” she mumbled. “And then two more in the psychiatric unit after the fire.”

Killian tensed, sliding his hand away from her face. He stepped back.

As soon as he moved away, the bubble around her burst. Reality rushed toward her in a great big wave. Shame crashed over her, fracturing her heart along already scarred lines. She kept her eyes closed against the pity and revulsion she was certain filled his gaze now. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before. But seeing it from him would be worse. She didn’t want the pity of a Fallen warrior, especially not one circumstance had forced her to rely upon.

For long moments, the only sound was the soft whir of the elevator.

And then he sighed. “Aubrey, I—”

The elevator dinged, and he fell silent.

Aubrey shuddered and opened her eyes. His gaze burned her, but she refused to look at him, instead brushing past him into the hallway.

“Aubrey—”

“Number 418,” she said.

Killian muttered something, sighed, and then fell silent.

His heavy steps sounded behind her.

How stupid of her to let him slip past her defenses like that! She should have known not to let him get that close to her. Her past wasn’t his business, and she didn’t need his sympathy or his pity. She relied on him out of necessity only. Nothing more.

Don’t you dare forget that
,
she reminded herself, shoving the key into the lock on her front door.

***

Killian placed his hands over Aubrey’s, preventing her from opening the door. She met his gaze briefly before turning away. Her fingers trembled beneath his, and her cheeks were bright spots of color in her otherwise pale face.

He took the key from her with ease.

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, pulling her hand from beneath his to cross her arms over her chest. “I want to change clothes.”

“In a minute,” he said, pocketing the key. “Look at me first.”

She shook her head, looking everywhere but at him.

He wanted to grind his teeth in frustration but doubted it would do him the least bit of good. The girl was nothing if not stubborn. Already, he admired her tenacity. She was upset, but she clung to composure with a grace that startled him. He hadn’t expected that from a human, especially one so young.

In truth, he didn’t know what to make of her, but he felt guilty for forcing her to talk. Even half-breeds such as he had some skill with Persuasion. That Talent kept most humans in their comfortable little bubble of oblivion. But he hadn’t used his Talent for the greater good of the Fallen. He’d used it for no reason other than curiosity about this lovely girl and the secrets she kept.

That shamed him.

So did the fact that his response upset her.

She was embarrassed, ashamed for no reason. He felt nothing but anger for her and the tragedies she’d been forced to endure. He had seen hardened warriors crumble beneath the weight of the horrors they witnessed and inflicted. And Aubrey was no warrior. She was barely even Elioud.

The human mind was fragile at the best of times. It was paper-thin glass at the worst. And this little human had seen the worst. But she hadn’t run away screaming over the shifters, or the virus, or him. She faced each new terror with strength and honor. That wasn’t the problem at all.

He
liked
her.

The depth of his attraction unnerved him.

How long had it been since he last felt such a strong affinity for anyone?

He couldn’t remember.

To feel such a thing for her—a human girl under his protection—was the height of dishonor. Caitria would have his ears if she ever found out how close he’d come to taking this lovely little human into his arms to comfort her. His blade-brothers would too.

“Look at me, please.”

She shook her head, refusing him.

“Please, Aubrey. Look at me.”

Her head snapped up, her green eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Anger and humiliation filled her gaze, piercing his heart with their intensity. Twin spots of color still stained her creamy cheeks.

“What?” she ground out, her lovely jaw set.

She truly was beautiful. Not even her muddy clothes hid the soft curves beneath. Her full, red lips begged to be kissed. And the floral scent of her skin…the cologne she’d used on her clothing did nothing to mask that delicious scent from him. If anything, smelling his cologne mixed with her scent took his mind to places he had no right to visit.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong,” he said, clenching his jaw against the physical reaction she caused him. He thrust his hands behind his back, away from temptation. “It’s not your fault you were institutionalized, and there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Can we go in now? I want to get this over with so I can get back to my life.”

He wanted to shake her, force her to listen to him, but what good would that do?

Her hurt feelings were his fault, and perhaps that was for the best. If she couldn’t even look at him, maybe it would be easier for him to keep her at arm’s length as required. Too many of his blade-brothers had fallen into dishonor with a human over the years, claiming what they had no right to take. His father had fallen into dishonor the same way, wooing Killian’s human mother and impregnating her before casting her aside to die.

Killian wouldn’t allow himself to fall down the same rabbit hole.

He was stronger than that. More disciplined.

Instead of arguing with Aubrey, he reinserted the key into the lock.

“Stay behind me,” he warned before he turned the knob and pushed the door open in one practiced move.

A hiss sounded from inside the apartment. A streak of white barreled out from behind the half-open door, straight toward Aubrey. He slipped the knives he’d hidden up his sleeves from their sheaths in an instant and raised his hands to throw.

“Killian, no!” Aubrey pushed him hard before diving into the room.

Cursing, he grabbed back the knives already leaving his hands. He followed on her heels, ready to drag her back out the damn door if he had to.

The little streak dove into her arms.

“It’s just Zee.” She held up a white ball of fur for him to inspect.

The ball of fur turned in her arms, laid its ears back, and hissed at him.

A kitten.

Hell.

He’d forgotten all about the little animal.

He kicked the door closed, his attention already turning to the rest of the room.

Everything appeared ordinary.

He took a second look.

The room seemed a little too ordinary. Black furniture sat atop white carpeting, with matching black-and-white curtains hanging over the windows. Simple glass tables bare of mementos of any kind were scattered around the room. Even the artwork appeared devoid of life. The images were little more than black-and-white architectural snapshots, seemingly chosen to match the colorless décor. An inconspicuous television sat on top of an equally inconspicuous stand.

A hotel room had more personality than Aubrey’s home.

Killian glanced down at her. “How long have you and your aunt lived here?”

“Shh, Zee,” she crooned to the kitten in her arms, ignoring his question. “The bad man won’t hurt you.” She scratched at the furball’s ears. “You’re a good guard kitty, aren’t you?”

Killian shook his head as the animal snuggled into Aubrey’s arms and started purring in loud satisfaction. She heaped praise and adoration on the kitten, cuddling the tiny animal to her chest before burying her nose in his fur.

Tension drained from her as she breathed deeply.

The stiff set of her shoulders relaxed.

The tight, rigid expression on her face vanished.

Standing there watching her, Killian actually envied the kitten. “Which is your bedroom?” he asked, feeling foolish for the irrational, unwelcome sting of jealousy poking at him. Abriel and Dom would never let him live down the shame if they found out.

“Hmm?” Aubrey raised soft eyes in his direction. “Oh.” Her expression cleared and cooled as she caught sight of him.

Sweet Heaven, she really didn’t like him, did she?

Two doors stood opposite each other at the end of a small hallway. Aubrey pointed toward the one on the right before setting the kitten on its feet. “That’s my room.”

The kitten raced across the carpet, hopped up onto the sofa, and curled itself into a ball, yawning.

Killian stomped across the room, Aubrey following behind him. He pushed the bedroom door open with a foot and stepped inside, his knives poised for throwing. Everything seemed normal in her bedroom too. The dresser and bedside table were white. The forest-green blankets and pillows piled onto her bed were soft and inviting. A single photo of a dark-haired couple with a young boy sat atop the nightstand. The man held his hands against the woman’s swollen stomach, a big smile on his face. The woman looked like Aubrey.

One corner of the photograph was blackened.

Was this all that remained of her past, then? One charred photograph and painful memories?

Sympathy for her welled.

“Satisfied?” she demanded from behind him.

He turned reluctantly to face her. “You’ll be safe here for now.”

“Good. You can go now.”

“No, I can’t.”

Her mouth fell open.

“I can’t leave you here alone.”

“I’m not a child,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She narrowed her eyes at him, the lovely green of her irises darkening. “I don’t need a babysitter. Especially not one I don’t like.”

Her hostile honesty irritated him. He’d been cruel when she came barreling into the house last night and again in the elevator moments ago—he knew that—but he was trying to make amends. The least she could do was pretend to be civil as she had in the car on the way over here.

“I don’t like you either, sweetheart,” he lied, leaning back against the wall, “and I don’t care how old you are. You’re of no use to me dead, so I’m not leaving until I know you won’t disappear as soon as I pull out of the parking lot.”

“There’s no one here!” She flung her arms out wide as if to indicate the empty apartment.

“Oh? You can sense werewolves and vampires now?”

She rolled her eyes at his sarcastic question. “I don’t want you here.”

“And I want the Senators to win the Stanley Cup, but it looks like we’re both out of luck, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

Aubrey blinked as if surprised and then narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Does it bother you,
sweetheart
?”

She flinched, her bottom lip trembling faintly. “My dad called me sweetheart,
asshole
.”

Well, hell.

Killian sighed, his frustration dissolving. He’d meant to irritate her, not make her hate him completely. “I’m sorry,” he said, backing down. “And I’m sorry you don’t want me here, but I’m not leaving.”

Aubrey opened her mouth and then closed it, not speaking. She raked her hair back from her face and huffed. “Fine,” she said then, venom and sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Make yourself at home,
asshole
.”

Without another word, she slipped past him into her bedroom.

The door slammed closed so hard the glass tables in the living room rattled.

“Son of a bitch,” Killian muttered.

Chapter Five

“What a jerk,” Aubrey muttered, tearing her dirty clothes off and flinging them to the floor. She stomped toward her dresser, grabbed a pair of panties and a T-shirt, and jerked them on before moving toward the bed.

Her heart thundered, anger and humiliation pulsing through her in turns as she ripped the covers back and collapsed onto the bed. She really did not like Killian. He was rude and cruel, and she’d been an idiot to believe for even a second that he was nothing like her tormentor. He was worse than the monster from her past. At least that Halfling hadn’t pretended to be civilized and sympathetic as Killian did.

She was so
stupid
for entangling herself with him. Now she was stuck with him, and she wanted him gone. He made her remember things she didn’t want to think about. She’d rather face the shifters on her own than spend another minute with him.

“Aubrey?” he called through the door.

She ignored him, grabbing a fistful of blankets and dragging them up over her.

“I’m sorry,” he said a moment later.

She refused to be swayed by the way he said the words as if he genuinely meant them. “Go away,” she shouted, turning onto her side to stare blankly at the far wall. Tears burned in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. She hadn’t let them fall in the light of day in a long time, not since Mel had packed up what remained of her things and brought her to Memphis three years ago. Aubrey refused to let that change just because Killian had asked her questions that weren’t his business, pried into her past with his Talents, or turned her dad’s pet name into something cold and bitter.

He was a jerk, and she hated him.

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

She sniffled and squeezed her eyes closed, feeling miserable inside and out. Her leg throbbed where the shifter had scratched her. Her neck hurt from the uncomfortable position she’d curled herself into while hiding. Her heart ached at everything she’d learned in the last few hours and everything those revelations had brought rearing to the surface. She wished Mel was home to pat her on the shoulder and tell her frowning would give her wrinkles.

Her aunt was as unreliable as they came, but she had a way of making even the most miserable situation seem tolerable, and Aubrey missed her. Mel was her only real friend and the only connection she had to her past. Mel had uprooted her entire life for Aubrey without complaint after the fire, taking Aubrey in and bringing her here, far away from the sad reminders of everything she’d lost in Wisconsin.

Her father’s sister didn’t know everything Aubrey had gone through or about the angel blood running through Aubrey’s veins, but she didn’t judge or pry. She let Aubrey work things out in her own way and didn’t coddle her to death. She was always there when Aubrey needed to talk, though. Aubrey could have used some of her practical wisdom right then, but her aunt was safer in the middle of the ocean.

The television in the living room clicked on.

Muted laughter floated beneath the bedroom door, the happy sound seeming to mock Aubrey. The life she’d built for herself was crumbling around her. She was being sucked back into a world she wanted no part of. Worse, she had no choice in the matter. All she had was a rude warrior who might or might not kill her and a heart full of guilt and fear.

“Please let this turn out okay,” she whispered.

If God was listening, He didn’t answer her.

***

Aubrey awoke to the early morning sun spilling into her room in bright rays. Her whole body ached, and disturbing visions had plagued her dreams. The house fire that had claimed the lives of her brother and father had raged out of control while angels and demons waged war in the field outside, too caught up in destroying one another to notice the pained screams coming from her home. She’d tried to save her dad and Aaron by herself, but each time she dashed into the house, infected wolves chased her right back out.

The last time she had run through the flames engulfing the front door, Killian and his brothers had been waiting for her, their faces twisted with hatred. Killian had grabbed her as she tried to dart around him and had dragged her back outside, demanding she stand trial for the life of the Nephilim boy Aaron had killed to save her.

She had begged Killian to stop, but he’d ignored her.

He had stood beside her, his expression black as a host of grim-faced angels sentenced her to death.

Aubrey forced the dreams away and dressed quickly.

She checked every room in the apartment twice before she relaxed.

Killian was nowhere to be found.

“Thank God,” she murmured, flopping down on the sofa beside Zee.

The kitten meowed at her and then climbed into her lap, turned in a circle, and curled up.

Aubrey scratched his ears, sighing. Her stomach growled, but she didn’t have the energy to walk to the kitchen. She stretched out on the couch instead, staring up at the ceiling. Even with her eyes wide open, Killian’s face seemed to hover before her.

Where was he? Had he changed his mind about helping her?

Did she care?

“Ugh,” she huffed when the response to that last question immediately popped into her head. She didn’t like the warrior, but she needed him. The shifters weren’t chasing her for the fun of it, and she didn’t know anyone else who could help her. Unless she ran, Killian was her only hope.

She considered the possibility of fleeing but quickly set it aside. She’d run from her past once before, and it had caught up with her. No need trying to do it again. Besides, pain and death followed her everywhere she went.

Her mom had died when she was a baby. The Nephilim boy had kidnapped and tortured her before Aaron and an angel had killed him. And then Aaron and her dad had died in the fire. Maybe the shifters hunting her down now were further proof of her curse. So she didn’t get to hide under the blankets this time and forget about angels and demons and the humans caught in the middle. She had to fight even if the thought did make her want to throw up. And that meant she had to deal with the warrior who threatened to take her breath away every time he got a little too close.

“Lovely.” She sighed, not thrilled by the prospect.

The phone sitting on the coffee table rang, startling Zee. The little kitten leaped out of Aubrey’s lap, his legs scrabbling in midair. He landed on the floor with a thud then raced into the bedroom.

Aubrey sat up and grabbed the phone, chuckling at the kitten’s skittish behavior. “Hello?”

“Hello? Aubrey?” a familiar voice shouted over background noise and static.

“Aunt Mel?” Aubrey’s grip on the receiver tightened.

“Aubrey, can you hear me?”

“Barely, Aunt Mel.”

“Dammit,” her aunt muttered, her voice growing faint before the line suddenly cleared. “Stupid boat full of drunks. I did
not
sign up for disco night. I don’t even remember the seventies!”

“Aunt Mel?”

“Oh! You can hear me. Good.” Mel’s voice brightened. “How are you, baby girl? Miss me yet?”

“You know I do,” Aubrey said, curling into the side of the sofa. She squeezed her eyes closed. Something in her chest tightening at the sound of her aunt’s voice. She missed Mel so much. “What about you? Are you having fun?”

“A blast.” Mel cursed under her breath. “Did you know people actually get seasick on cruises? I thought that was a myth.”

“Oh no! You’re seasick?”

“No,” Mel said. “Dean is. He hasn’t left the room since we pulled out of port in Fort Lauderdale.”

“Poor Dean,” Aubrey said.

Mel and Dean hadn’t been dating long, but Aubrey kind of hoped they’d marry someday. Dean was good for her aunt.

“Yeah,” Mel said and then, “Listen, hon, we’re thinking about ditching the cruise when we dock in Lisbon, hopping a train to Cadiz, and then making our way to Barcelona. This boat is awful.”

“Can you do that?” Aubrey asked.

“Dean had to sign a bunch of paperwork—apparently the cruise line doesn’t want to be held liable for us if we disappear in a foreign country, the self-serving jerks—but we got the go-ahead to disembark at Lisbon.” Mel paused. “We’ll be home later than expected.”

Aubrey’s stomach sank. “How much later?”

“Two weeks. Will you be okay? I can tell him no if you need me.”

Aubrey desperately wanted to be selfish and tell her aunt to come home. “Don’t worry about me, Aunt Mel. I’ll be fine,” she lied. “Please have fun.”

“You’re sure?” Mel’s worry seeped through the line.

“Positive,” Aubrey said, injecting as much false cheer as she could muster into her tone. “Go. Have fun.”

“You’re the best, hon! These roaming charges are ridiculous, so I’ve gotta go. Love you, and I’ll call you when we dock, okay?”

“Love you too, Aunt Mel.”

Aubrey stared down at the phone for long moments after the line disconnected, feeling lonely and miserable. And then she felt guilty. Mel was safer in Spain than she would be here. Besides, Aubrey wouldn’t even know what to tell her aunt if she did come home.

The gorgeous giant following me around? Oh, he’s a half-angelic warrior trying to help me figure out why the human descendants of angels infected with an angel-killing virus are after me.

Yeah, no way would Aubrey be saying that to her aunt anytime soon. Mel wasn’t stupid, but she didn’t know what horrors lurked in the shadows. Aubrey preferred to keep it that way. The less she knew about angels and demons, the better.

Zee poked his head out of the bedroom and mewled. He glanced around and, satisfied the scary ringing monster was gone, scurried across the floor to Aubrey.

She reached down and picked the kitten up then brought him to eye level. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Zee.”

“Meow,” he replied.

Aubrey smiled, glad the kitten, at least, hadn’t abandoned her.

***

That evening, Aubrey and the kitten were engrossed in a movie when someone began pounding on the door. Zee’s ear twitched once, but he didn’t otherwise move. Aubrey set him on the arm of the couch and climbed to her feet, her heart pounding with fear.

She hadn’t stepped foot outside the apartment since returning, and no one had come looking for her since Killian left. She didn’t know if he ever planned to return or not.

“Who is it?”

“Open up,” Killian answered, still thumping on the door.

Aubrey hesitated with her hand on the knob, trying to decide if she wanted to let him in or not. She’d honestly thought he’d changed his mind and left for good. Apparently, she’d been wrong.

Dealing with him again now didn’t appeal to her.

She felt a little like a traitor to herself for feeling relieved to hear him anyway.

“I brought food.”

Her rumbling stomach decided the matter. She pulled the door open.

Killian stood on the other side with two brown takeout bags in his hands. An air of exhaustion clung to him. Dark shadows ringed his blue eyes. He still wore the same outfit from yesterday.

Had he slept at all since he left?

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” Aubrey moved away from the door, locking her eyes on his black boots. The toes were scuffed, and dried mud was splattered against the strings.

Killian stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind him. For a minute, they both stood there, not speaking. The awkward silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of canned laughter from the television. And then the smell of crisp bacon wafted through the room.

Aubrey’s stomach growled loudly.

“Hungry?” Killian asked, hefting the bags.
Huey’s
was emblazoned on the sides.

“I’m starving,” she said, relieved he hadn’t brought up their argument. Rehashing it would only piss her off, and since she was apparently stuck with him for the time being, glaring and yelling at him wouldn’t help her cause.

Killian offered her a small smile, the right corner of his upper lip curling. “Your doorman didn’t want to let me back in.”

Aubrey narrowed her gaze. “What did you do to him?”

An amused smirk brightened Killian’s expression. “What makes you think I did anything to him?”

Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest, not swayed by his innocent expression. She had a feeling no one told Killian what to do, least of all a doorman well into his seventies. Besides, she knew what he was capable of doing. He’d played her like a fiddle in the elevator the day before. The thought of him doing similar to a defenseless old man like Larry bothered her.

“I didn’t do anything to him, Aubrey,” Killian swore. “I told him I was helping you out while your aunt’s gone.”

Translation: he was babysitting.