The metal makes a little click in the sudden quiet.
The guy waves toward me, insisting, “We’re still very specific, and there are consequences. We don’t house beggars, thieves, or –”
The coffee hue to Pax’s hair turns ashy, and with his muscles tensed hard, possibly to stop himself from murdering the man, he sets another gold down. I can see the simmering anger that Thane is bringing to the surface, but in contrast, Pax looks controlled. Commanding. Regal. In truth, I was expecting a lot worse. I’m pretty sure the guy we got our horses from vomited the minute we left.
“Right,” the man says, sliding them both from the bar. “You’d be wanting a suite then. They open to a private courtyard out the back. How many hours? Or nights?”
Pax glances at me before looking back at the man, frowning, and says in a determined tone, “Two.”
Two nights. I hope my Silvari soul gets its act together and starts doing some of that Silvari healing the guys are so good at.
The man takes the coin, saying, “That door takes you to the courtyard, guest access only. You’ll get access through the stables too, stabling included in your coin, but you’ll need the key.”
He reaches under the counter to fish a key out, tossing it to Pax as if holding his arm out and handing it over gently might result in his arm being torn off. Well, at least that’s what I assume, until Pax turns, wrapping an arm behind me and pointing to the door in the back wall to our far right. The movement gives me a short window to see the guy behind the bar, just long enough to note his pursed lips and calculating gaze.
“Come on,” Pax says softly in my ear. No Thane, I note. No glow in his gaze, no ash in his hair, no spark of power on his skin. He’s locked the wolf back and himself down, making a conscious effort to appear mortal to these people. He adds, “Or do you want me to carry you now?”
“Oh, hello, I didn’t realize Seth came with us too,” I tease. Pax is not the ‘carrying’ type. He’s barely the ‘be in the same room as me’ type. Seth, however, scooped me up every moment he could. And Killian was fond of tossing me over his shoulder. Roarke was more of a soft hands and quiet moments guy.
This alone-and-without-his-brothers Pax is something I’m not familiar with. It’s like a new toy that I don’t want to break. Or more like a flower bulb that could open to be any flower, I’m just waiting to see what kind. What does alone Pax look like? What does he smell like?
The idea of his scent sends an intense hum of excitement through me. I’ve always liked Pax’s smell, and now I get to smell him all on my own. I fight back the urge to press my nose into his shirt, his neck, his ass… ah, maybe not his ass. That’s a little weird.
He smiles, just a small lift of his lips, and opens the door, muttering, “Stubborn.” I don’t get a chance to argue before he adds, “Thane doesn’t think I should give you the option.”
“Well, Thane can kiss my ass.”
Pax chuckles, low and toe curling. “Oh, he wants to.”
My cheeks flush, and I focus every bit of my energy into crossing the courtyard. Followed by not slumping against the wall while Pax opens the door and then getting myself into the suite, all without letting myself think about Pax diving his teeth into my ass cheek. My currently tingling-in-anticipation ass.
The sum total of my sexual experience – zero.
The sum total of the things on my must do list – everything.
Mercifully, he doesn’t follow through with any further comments, so I don’t run the risk of irreversibly embarrassing myself.
The room is nice. Clean. Filled with a large bed, not Silvari large, but pretty big for this side of the border, a table, some chairs, a hearth that the innkeeper immediately sends a boy in to light, and a view of the green.
“You should rest,” Pax says, dropping the last bag onto the table. “I have to take care of some things.”
I turn to follow him, not even comprehending his words, until he stops and sets his hands on my shoulders.
“No bubble. You can stay here, sleep,” he says. “I’ll tend to the horses and be straight back. I won’t leave you for long, I promise.”
Then he’s gone with a quick golden-eyed glance over his shoulder that hints at Thane not being too impressed. Or maybe Thane is the one impressed, and it’s Pax having the internal argument. I’m not sure, and the door shuts with a soft, well-oiled swoosh and a light click. Looks like I’m not finding out either.
I gasp then struggle to breathe at all – but nothing presses into me.
No hard surface ready to crush me against the nearest solid object.
No bubble, I whisper, repeating it with a sigh of relief, no bubble.
Once the fact that the bubble really is gone sinks in, a new emotion takes over.
I’m alone.
My stomach tenses and chest tightens like Pax just cut my heart out. Gone. Not racing hard like I think it should be, which is giving me this surreal sensation that it might not exist anymore. I rub at my chest, just to be sure it’s in there, and it has to be beating.
Has to be.
I don’t need him every minute of the day, I tell myself. Then repeat it.
But no matter how many times I say it, it still feels like a lie. Unlike the bubble realization, this mantra doesn’t stick. Whether I need him or not, I want him.
“I’m a strong person. I can spend a few hours without an Elorsin by my side,” I mutter, still standing and staring at the door like an idiot.
Doesn’t mean I have to though.
Hesitantly, I walk up and try the door handle. It doesn’t budge. I twist it firmly, with the same result.
Yep, Pax has locked me in.
I check the window – key locked too.
My heart finally picks up speed, trying to decide how I feel right now. Scared that he might not come back? What if something happens to him? Angry as chuck that he didn’t even ask me first. Hurt, hurt that he thinks I need to be locked in.
Definitely hurt, and trapped. Lord Martin might not be a problem anymore, but I grew up here, and I know there are plenty of other dangers. The only time I like being locked in anywhere is when I have the keys.
A large part of me feels like a damn sitting duck – a sitting duck who will be kicking Pax, and Thane, in the balls the minute I’m strong enough to do it without falling on my ass.
Growling, I feel around the perimeter of the room. Eighteen steps. A new kind of bubble. I try to push that thought out of my mind.
A long bath and narrow mirror sit in one corner, and I stop at that. It’s the perfect distraction. I strip out of Pax’s clothes and hang the items over the back of the nearby chair. Travel-dirty and full of dust, but still fine Silvari cotton. Clothes I want cleaned and then returned to me – if the inn has a laundry service.
For a body that almost ceased to exist several times in the last week, it’s relatively unbruised. The manacle scar on my left wrist is just as stark against my skin as it ever was. So the mass healing energy that ripped through me when my guys saved my life didn’t undo that. Killian’s scar opens every time he sleeps and doesn’t have time to heal in between, but the others have barely a faded mark between them. Their bodies are too fast to leave traces behind.
My most recent healing was certainly fast, but it’s left a gnarled line that runs over my shoulder and down my back. Every now and then I ran my fingers over it as we rode here, trying to picture it. This is the first time I’ve seen it in all its glory. Raised just the slightest bit and maybe the width of my pinky finger. Pink and permanent, and still with a halo of blood on my skin – because getting here was more important than bathing properly. I trace my fingers over my shoulder as far as I can reach. Then swap arms and reach around to the small of my back, where it nicks into my spine at the very bottom.