Page 102 of Kick the Candle (Knight Games 2)
"I can only speculate, but I believe you were protected by your mother."
"My mother...the goddess of the dead, Hecate."
"Yes. I can't be sure, and you never told me, but afterward you...changed, became more powerful. You successfully enchanted Monk's congregation into accepting your presence, no questions asked."
Instinctively, I reached over and placed a hand on his chest as I tilted on my side to see his face. His body stiffened. I removed my fingers and placed them beside me. I cleared my throat. "Nobody asked where I came from?"
"People asked. You told them you'd washed ashore after a shipwreck, having traveled with a band of pilgrims who were killed during your journey. Everyone believed you."
"Sounds plausible."
"Plausible that you would come over one hundred miles from the nearest port without anything but the clothes on your back?"
I laughed softly. "So, my magic had been awakened."
"Yes. And you'd lost everyone you loved." His fingertips trailed through my hair again. The feeling was comforting, like coming home.
I closed my eyes, slipping into sleep. "Not everyone," I whispered. His story had lulled me into that space between sleep and awake, all of my defenses down. "I still had you."
The bed jostled. Through a crack in my eyelids I watched him stand. "Yes, mi cielo," he mumbled so quietly I might only have heard it thanks to our connection. "And you still do."
* * * * *
When I opened my eyes again, I rolled over and looked for Rick. He wasn't in the room; the door was closed, but the curtains were open, revealing a frosty winter's night. I must have slept most of the day. Likely, Rick was out patrolling the graveyard.
Rick. If I'd ever questioned his love for me, I'd been a fool. The story he'd told me was painfully genuine and nagged at a long forgotten memory. Some part of me knew it was truth, as was my past love for him. As confusing as it all was, the warm feeling blooming in my chest was more than heartburn. I was falling in love with him. Not because of my past, although it played a part, but because of the present. He gave of himself selflessly, even when he thought I'd strayed from him. And I was fairly sure, based on everything I'd heard and seen in my grimoire, that I had tricked him into becoming my caretaker, or at a minimum, didn't fully warn him of the consequences. The thought opened up a gaping hole in my chest. Since I'd become the witch, I'd always assumed Rick was the predator, leading me into this life because he had something to gain. Maybe Julius was technically telling the truth about our relationship, but it wasn't the whole truth. I realized, now, Rick had a much greater burden to bear than I originally gave him credit for.
A moment of panic caused my heart to palpitate. Julius wouldn't be happy about Rick's methods of rescuing me, Bathory surely had a price on my head, and Mr. Nekomata could be moving into my house any day now. How long did I have before they came for me? For Rick? I needed to tell Rick what I'd learned and find out what he knew about the possessed woman who died in my ER. We had to be at full capacity, acting as a team, or we wouldn't stand a chance.
I lifted my shaking hands in front of me. The deep, bloody grooves that had etched my skin had filled in, thanks to Rick's blood, but the ache in the joint told me I wasn't completely healed. Another feeding and I'd probably be as good as new. Speaking of blood, I reeked of it. The sponge bath Rick had given me only went so far. I desperately needed a shower, if not to get the stink off of me, to wash away the feel of Julius' fangs at my throat or Bathory's bull whip. With both hands, I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the side.
Near the bed, leaning against the wall, I noticed a long, round, purple candle, like the ones you see in church. My intuition hummed. This had not been here before. There was a stamp in the wax, maybe the store logo, in the shape of a scarab beetle. Was this what Rick had obtained during his absence? Immediately, I had to know more. He'd traveled far for this. Why? I reached for the candle.
Apparently, I'd overestimated my degree of healing because my head swam. I tilted forward at the hips and face-planted on the carpet.
* * * * *
"Mi cielo!" Rick shook my shoulder.
My cheek was pressed into the scratchy area rug next to the bed. I groaned.
"How did you fall out of bed?" He lifted me into his arms.
Morning light shone through the window, warming my face. "I wanted to shower. I feel like I've been rolled in vampire saliva and left to dry."
His shoulders drooped, and he squeezed my waist gently. "I will help you." Gingerly, he undressed me, balling the bloody and torn slip in one hand and tossing it into the garbage can near the bed. As if I weighed nothing, he lifted me and carried me into the bathroom. Holding me up with one arm, he started the shower with the other, testing the temperature of the water with his wrist.
"You must be tired," I said into his neck.
"No, I slept Monday."
"It's Sunday."
"Yes. I am good for a few more days." He tested the water again, then carefully undressed himself while maintaining his hold on me.
I was completely naked but not ashamed. Our connection ran deep, an ancient bond I was still discovering. I tugged at his shoulder. "Bathroom."
It took him a moment to register that I needed to use the toilet, but once he understood, he lowered me to the porcelain.
