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Because there’s no way in hell Xero would fuck me on his own grave, then knock me unconscious, give me a nice, warm bath, and blow dry my hair. That’s too surreal.
Maybe it’s time I found a new doctor. I could apply for a credit card and get myself into debt. Nothing matters more than my mental health because, right now, I can’t function.
I open my eyes and wince at the force of the sunlight streaming in through my bedroom window. From the looks of it, I’d say it was noon.
But what about those men who broke into my house?
I should be dead or captured, not put to bed. That’s not how gangs of rapists operate.
My gaze darts around, looking for anything out of place. When I try to rise on my elbows, my arms are restrained. I try to kick off my sheets, but there’s something around my ankles. I pull my hand out from the cover to find a black rope around my wrist, looking like it’s attached to the bed.
My hands are filthy, as though I’ve drawn someone’s blood.
Not again.
I glance across the bed at the other pillow for a note that says I’m grounded. When I don’t find it, I turn toward the nightstand.Somehow, my phone has found its way back to my bedroom and is charging.
Heavy footsteps creak on the stairs, making my stomach drop. Maybe it’s one of the men from last night, coming up to gloat. He’s probably connected to Jake and will interrogate me about what happened to his fellow troll.
Cold sweat breaks out across my brow. I breathe hard, trying to muster up some strength to break out of my bonds, but my muscles refuse to cooperate. What the hell did I do last night besides run around a graveyard?
Did that even happen at all?
A hulking figure walks in, holding a tray. His hoodie obscures his face, radiating danger. I suck in a deep breath to scream but freeze as he steps into the light.
Ice-blue eyes meet mine, framed by high cheekbones and a strong brow. A septum piercing glints on his straight nose, and two rings punctuate his bottom lip. Most alarming are the four jagged scratches on his cheek, raw against his otherwise flawless skin.
My heart pounds, a volatile mix of attraction and fear.
I would know that face anywhere.
“Xero?” I whisper.
“Recognize me now?” he asks, his voice dry.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You woke up last night, thinking you were under attack,” he mutters. “I tried to restrain your arms, but you fought like a berserker.”
“What’s that?”
He flashes me a grin so wide that my heart makes a backflip. “A mythical warrior who goes into an alternate state. Some say they’re possessed by spirits, but they’re supposed to be unbeatable.”
“Wait.” I gulp. “There’s no way I could have done that to you.”
He raises a brow. “Take a look at what’s under your nails.”
I shudder, already having seen the blood. At least nobody’s a corpse.
Xero continues forward with the tray and walks into the light. When he doesn’t flicker, realization hits me in the face.
“You’re not a ghost?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
He sets down the tray. “When you mentioned blackouts, I thought you meant dizzy spells. Tell me what you last remember?”
