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I sat on the edge of my bed, not bothering to breathe, just letting Trixie rest. I watched her chest carefully because I needed her to keep breathing. I watched as her pretty eyelashes fluttered against her pale cheeks and her face twisted in anguish, as if she were reliving a nightmare.
I watched as Trixie writhed, turned to her side, then lay still, limp, like there was nothing left of her to give. I reached a hand out, touched her forehead. She was burning up, but I suspected this was nothing to do with any sort of human fever, nothing to do with the chill she might’ve caught from the rain. She was experiencing symptoms from the release of magic that had crippled her in the alleyway.
After twenty minutes had passed and she was showing no signs of coming to, but also no signs of further deteriorating, I texted Vix that I needed Emmy’s number. Vix shot it back to me in under a minute.
I texted Emmy a brief summary of what had happened and gave her directions to my room. Ironically, I was easy to find as I’d been given the honeymoon suite—the largest room in the hotel. Top floor, best views of the city, reserved for those “of great importance” according to the stupid plaque on the wall.
Emmy responded a few minutes later letting me know she was on her way. I set my phone down, resigned to the fact that I only had another few minutes alone with Trixie. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, or why I felt protective over a witch who clearly hated my guts. She despised me enough to trash me in front of the entire auditorium, and yet, I couldn’t seem to hate her back.
There was something about Trixie Gardens that drew me to her. She was the fire to my ice, the warm heart to my cold, empty chamber. She was feisty, passionate, different. I couldn’t figure her out, and that intrigued me.
Not to mention the fantasies. From the day I’d met her, they’d started. It wasn’t something I consciously tried to do, but the way she moved, the way she smelled, the way she’d gotten under my skin so quickly—made me rethink fated mates.
I’d always assumed I would never find the one. I’d had three hundred years of nothing and a lot of years to go. It was easier to believe that there was no one person for me than the alternative, because the alternative—that there was one person for me, and I just hadn’t found them yet—was too painful to consider.
I took Trixie’s hand in mine and held it until a knock on the door shook me from my reverie. I rose, made my way over, and opened the door to reveal a concerned Emmy.
“You asked to see me?” She was wringing her hands together. “It’s about Trixie? Is she okay?”
“Define okay.” I inclined my head, inviting her in. “You’d better come and see her.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Emmy said. “Oh, Trixie.”
Emmy collapsed at the side of the bed next to her friend. She grasped Trixie’s hand in hers, and a pit developed in my stomach as I realized I was wishing it was me still holding her hand.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said. “I mean, she’s not great right this second, but she did this to herself.”
“Huh?” Emmy looked up at me.
“Some idiot reporter threatened Trixie when she went out into the alley. One of the paparazzi said he was going to blackmail her.”
“Already? She’s barely been in the spotlight for an hour,” Emmy said. “You saved her then?”
I gave a laugh short on humor. “Not exactly. Let’s just say she saved herself. She used her magic.”
“Magic? Don’t be ridiculous.” Emmy turned her gaze back to her friend, brushing me off like I’d suggested aliens were real and had intervened on Trixie’s behalf. “She would never use magic.”
“I’m not sure it was a voluntary spell,” I said. “But it was definitely magic. I think Trixie’s fear triggered a release of it, probably her anger and fear.”
“No wonder it took so much out of her.” Emmy rested a hand against her friend’s forehead. “I’ve read about this sort of thing—magic acting as a last line of defense when a witch feels in danger whether they want to use it or not. She should be fine, but she’ll need some time to come out of this fugue. Her body wasn’t prepared for that level of magic.”
“Yeah, I gathered that,” I said dryly. “Trixie’s welcome to rest here. You are too. I can get a different room.”
“I think she’d prefer to wake up in her own bed,” Emmy said. “Do you think you could carry her down for me?”
“I thought you might say that.” I had Trixie against my chest in seconds. “Lead the way.”
We were lucky the gala was still underway. We didn’t see another soul as I followed Emmy down to the room she was sharing with Trixie. Emmy pointed out Trixie’s bed, and I gently deposited her beneath the covers. I watched her for a long moment, until I could feel Emmy’s gaze on my back.
“Like you said, she should be fine,” I said gruffly, clearing my throat. “But if she deteriorates further, call me immediately. I have access to the best doctors, and they can be here instantly if needed.”
Emmy nodded. Then, as if reassuring both of us, she said again, “She’ll be fine.”
I turned away, forcing myself not to look back over my shoulder at the woman I was leaving behind, feeling like every instinct in my 300-year-old body was screaming at me to stay.
Chapter 9
Trixie
