Wicked
Page 45
Rocking back onto my heels, I drew in a deep breath as Ren straightened on top of the Benz. "Well, that was fun."
He wiped the stake on his dark jeans and secured it under his shirt. Then he leveled an intense, angry stare on me. "I thought I told you I had this handled."
"You can take out two fae with a third in a car? All by yourself?" I snorted. "You may be all kinds of special, but come on."
He jumped from the Benz, landing in a nimble crouch he immediately rose from. "I had it. I planned on keeping at least one of them alive to, you know, question it."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have taken out the one in the car then, huh?" I snapped.
"You were supposed to stay back. Last time I checked, you were not to engage until David clears you."
I rolled my eyes. "He's cleared me for Wednesday. That's less than two days from now. I'm fine."
"I don't care if it's tomorrow. If you were told not to risk it, then—"
"Oh, shut up. Geez. I'm okay." I stood up and pain flickered through my side. "Let's—whoa."
Ren was suddenly right in front of me. "I saw that."
"Saw what?"
"You flinched when you stood. You hurt yourself." He grabbed a hold of the hem of my shirt and started pulling it up. "Let me—"
"I'm fine." I grabbed my shirt.
His jaw was set in a firm line as he flicked his gaze to mine. "Let me see, Ivy."
"Jesus!" I all but shouted as I wrestled with the edge of my shirt. "How would you like it if I just went around and started pulling up your shirt?"
He paused, raising both brows. "I'd fucking love it."
"Ugh!" I wanted to stomp my foot.
Chuckling lightly, he almost had my shirt up to where the bullet had hit when his brows pinched in concentration. Without saying a word, he reached out and ran the tips of his fingers along my lower stomach. Gasping, I jerked back, but didn't get very far because he still had a hold of my shirt.
"Your mark," he whispered, and I shivered as his fingers made another pass.
My jeans had slipped low during the fight, exposing just the top of the interlocking circles. The muscles in my belly and much lower tensed, and a heady, pulse-quickening sense of yearning rose. The air around us charged as if a storm was about to move in.
"Stop," I said.
He removed his hand, and I didn't understand the strange sense of disappointment. His gaze was locked with mine, and what felt like an infinite amount of seconds passed while neither of us spoke. I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't even know what I was thinking, but a sweet heaviness poured into my chest and slipped down, way down.
My phone beeped, breaking up our epic stare down, and then Ren's also dinged. My stomach clenched for a different reason, and a real sense of foreboding rose. He let go of my shirt and I stepped back, pulling my phone out of the back of my jeans. I clicked on the screen, and my breath caught when I saw the text.
Code Red.
"Oh no," I whispered, looking up at Ren. A somber, hard expression had seeped into his features.
Code red could mean only one thing. A member of the Order had been killed.
Chapter Eleven
The ride back to St. Philip was tense. As soon as I got the message, I tried calling Val. When there had been no answer, my stomach twisted into messy knots. As terrible as it sounded, the only thing I could think on the way to headquarters was for it not to be her. I didn't want it to be anyone, but I couldn't bear it if it was Val.
Ren and I didn't talk as we climbed the stairs and waited to be let in. It was Harris who opened the door¸ and honestly, I'd wanted to punch him in the face since I found out that he ran his mouth, but right then I didn't care.
"They're in the back room," he said, stepping aside.
I almost asked who it was, but I wasn't ready. Nodding at Harris, I crossed the room. There were several doors, and most led to training rooms, but the one all the way to the left led to David's office. We headed for the double doors.
The room was packed with about twenty of the forty-something members that were currently stationed in New Orleans. My gaze scanned the room, desperately searching for a splash of flamboyant color. When I didn't see her, pressure clamped down on my chest. Panic threatened to take root, and I pulled out my phone, checking it again and finding no response. I tried to prepare myself if it turned out to be her. I'd been down this road before, but I could already feel the bitter bite of pain in the back of my throat. My fingers opened and closed sporadically, and I wanted to be anywhere but where I was in that moment. I knew it was pathetic, but I didn't want to be here if Val didn't walk through that door.
"Not everyone is here yet." Ren placed his hand on my lower back, and my wide gaze swung to his.
His hand stayed there as I stared at the doors, squeezing my hands so tightly I could feel the nails digging into my skin. Faintly, I was aware that other members were doing the same thing, except Jackie Jordan, a tall and sleek woman in her early thirties. She was eyeing Ren with a sense of guardedness I could relate to. When the doors swung open and David strolled in, I almost keeled over from relief. Val was behind him, her gaze searching the room. It took every ounce of control for me to not rush over and squeeze the living daylights out of her. If I did, I knew a lot of the other members would see that as a sign of weakness, even if they were worried it was their friend who wasn't ever going to walk through the doors again. But to them, I was young, and that was strike one. They also thought I was crazy, so strike two.
He wiped the stake on his dark jeans and secured it under his shirt. Then he leveled an intense, angry stare on me. "I thought I told you I had this handled."
"You can take out two fae with a third in a car? All by yourself?" I snorted. "You may be all kinds of special, but come on."
He jumped from the Benz, landing in a nimble crouch he immediately rose from. "I had it. I planned on keeping at least one of them alive to, you know, question it."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have taken out the one in the car then, huh?" I snapped.
"You were supposed to stay back. Last time I checked, you were not to engage until David clears you."
I rolled my eyes. "He's cleared me for Wednesday. That's less than two days from now. I'm fine."
"I don't care if it's tomorrow. If you were told not to risk it, then—"
"Oh, shut up. Geez. I'm okay." I stood up and pain flickered through my side. "Let's—whoa."
Ren was suddenly right in front of me. "I saw that."
"Saw what?"
"You flinched when you stood. You hurt yourself." He grabbed a hold of the hem of my shirt and started pulling it up. "Let me—"
"I'm fine." I grabbed my shirt.
His jaw was set in a firm line as he flicked his gaze to mine. "Let me see, Ivy."
"Jesus!" I all but shouted as I wrestled with the edge of my shirt. "How would you like it if I just went around and started pulling up your shirt?"
He paused, raising both brows. "I'd fucking love it."
"Ugh!" I wanted to stomp my foot.
Chuckling lightly, he almost had my shirt up to where the bullet had hit when his brows pinched in concentration. Without saying a word, he reached out and ran the tips of his fingers along my lower stomach. Gasping, I jerked back, but didn't get very far because he still had a hold of my shirt.
"Your mark," he whispered, and I shivered as his fingers made another pass.
My jeans had slipped low during the fight, exposing just the top of the interlocking circles. The muscles in my belly and much lower tensed, and a heady, pulse-quickening sense of yearning rose. The air around us charged as if a storm was about to move in.
"Stop," I said.
He removed his hand, and I didn't understand the strange sense of disappointment. His gaze was locked with mine, and what felt like an infinite amount of seconds passed while neither of us spoke. I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't even know what I was thinking, but a sweet heaviness poured into my chest and slipped down, way down.
My phone beeped, breaking up our epic stare down, and then Ren's also dinged. My stomach clenched for a different reason, and a real sense of foreboding rose. He let go of my shirt and I stepped back, pulling my phone out of the back of my jeans. I clicked on the screen, and my breath caught when I saw the text.
Code Red.
"Oh no," I whispered, looking up at Ren. A somber, hard expression had seeped into his features.
Code red could mean only one thing. A member of the Order had been killed.
Chapter Eleven
The ride back to St. Philip was tense. As soon as I got the message, I tried calling Val. When there had been no answer, my stomach twisted into messy knots. As terrible as it sounded, the only thing I could think on the way to headquarters was for it not to be her. I didn't want it to be anyone, but I couldn't bear it if it was Val.
Ren and I didn't talk as we climbed the stairs and waited to be let in. It was Harris who opened the door¸ and honestly, I'd wanted to punch him in the face since I found out that he ran his mouth, but right then I didn't care.
"They're in the back room," he said, stepping aside.
I almost asked who it was, but I wasn't ready. Nodding at Harris, I crossed the room. There were several doors, and most led to training rooms, but the one all the way to the left led to David's office. We headed for the double doors.
The room was packed with about twenty of the forty-something members that were currently stationed in New Orleans. My gaze scanned the room, desperately searching for a splash of flamboyant color. When I didn't see her, pressure clamped down on my chest. Panic threatened to take root, and I pulled out my phone, checking it again and finding no response. I tried to prepare myself if it turned out to be her. I'd been down this road before, but I could already feel the bitter bite of pain in the back of my throat. My fingers opened and closed sporadically, and I wanted to be anywhere but where I was in that moment. I knew it was pathetic, but I didn't want to be here if Val didn't walk through that door.
"Not everyone is here yet." Ren placed his hand on my lower back, and my wide gaze swung to his.
His hand stayed there as I stared at the doors, squeezing my hands so tightly I could feel the nails digging into my skin. Faintly, I was aware that other members were doing the same thing, except Jackie Jordan, a tall and sleek woman in her early thirties. She was eyeing Ren with a sense of guardedness I could relate to. When the doors swung open and David strolled in, I almost keeled over from relief. Val was behind him, her gaze searching the room. It took every ounce of control for me to not rush over and squeeze the living daylights out of her. If I did, I knew a lot of the other members would see that as a sign of weakness, even if they were worried it was their friend who wasn't ever going to walk through the doors again. But to them, I was young, and that was strike one. They also thought I was crazy, so strike two.
