Page 69 of Feathers From the Sky

Without holding something, Gwyn doesn’t know what to do with her hands. She doesn’t even have clothes after I’d thrown a severed head on top of her things and she’d subsequently puked on top of them. She wears my leather jacket, zipped to her chin, and it swims on her. Even though she wears pajama shorts I’d fished out of the mess for her, it looks like she’s only wearing my jacket. I swallow when I realize that fucking does something to me. Fucking hell. Her long dark hair is tangled, and she stinks of blood and vomit. I swear trauma has a smell, that hint of fear in her sweat and the salt in her tears, and I fight the urge to take her straight to the bathtub.

“It is.” I toss back my drink.

“Doesn’t look like it,” she remarks but doesn’t comment further. Her hands are clasped in front of her as she approaches the window facing the back garden. It’s small, with barely enough room for the built-in brick stove and the patio set Margot insisted on. I’m about to tell her she won’t be able to see anything outside without the porch light, but realize she can see perfectly fine in the dark now.

It pains me, surprisingly.

“I haven’t really lived here.”

“Ah yes, you were traveling for work,” she says. In the window's reflection, I see a slight smile grace her perfect lips. She’s far more calm than she ought to be amid this life-changing transformation. She plants her ass on the windowsill, hands curled around the ledge. Unsettlingly docile, she waits. When I pour another glass, she eyes it like she wants one herself, but she doesn’t ask.

And I don’t offer.

I don’t know what the fuck to do with her now. Margot is simultaneously horrified and pleased, while Nico is confused and probably disgusted. I’m a little bit of all those things. What I do know is I’ve created a fucking predicament without solving my previous one. If my father finds out what I’ve done…Fuck.

“We found them,” I blurt, swirling my glass on the table. The scotch on top of the white marble is the exact hue of her fucking eyes, and I can’t goddamn escape her.

“Who?”

The front door opens, and I’m relieved to hear Margot finishing her phone call. I haven’t moved by the time she gets into the kitchen, and she freezes in the doorway. Eyeing Gwyn, she plants herself firmly out of our radius. Margot has changed clothing, and she sports cat-eye reading glasses she doesn’t need. Her slicked back ponytail is crisp, and she fits my house better than I do. Gwyn and I look like shit, and we reek of sex and blood. Maybe I should have sent her to bathe.

“Alright then, fuckers. Go bang it out,” my assistant says, pointing to the ceiling.

“Jesus, Margot,” I say, rubbing my hand over my face. When I sneak a glance at Gwyn, she’s blushing as she focuses very hard on the grout lines between tiles.

“What? There’s no way it’s eased up that soon, has it?” She doesn’t direct her question at anyone in particular, and neither of us jumps to answer it. “You know, it took over a week before I was back to normal. And it took you a few days. Since you’re a hunter, maybe it will go faster.” She frowns at Gwyn, clearly pitying her.

“Who did the—who made you?” Gwyn asks, soft. “If you don’t mind me asking, I mean, I just—”

“No worries. A vampire named Mateo turned me against my will. His blood was in my system when he murdered me.”

“And you had to Ascend, you—you had tohave sexwith him?” Gwyn hisses, looking at me in horror as if I had something to do with it.

“No. He brought me to the compound when Roman had just Ascended, and Roman killed him. A few other vampires let me, uh, work things out.”

“Oh, well, good call, Ro—”

Margot doesn’t let me have an ounce of glory, and that’s fine because I didn’t earn it. “No, no, he didn’t do it to give me justice. Mateo looked at Kathleen wrong, and Roman ripped him apart.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” She swallows hard, staring at my empty glass. “Wait. Kathleen? She turned you? She’s your ex?” When I nod, all she does is laugh. Head thrown back, pretty neck exposed, she cackles like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “That slippered bitch,” she murmurs, and I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.

“You look confused, bud. Kathleen is the one who instigated shit,” Margot explains. I’m out of the kitchen, halfway to the front door, when Margot stops me with a hand on my wrist. “She hopped on a plane with Bjorn while you were, uh, occupied. Don’t waste your time.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” I’d forgotten all about their little romantic trip to Iceland they had planned. “How long?” Gwyn peeks her head out of the kitchen, and I can see her pupils dilate and fangs lengthen. Moving quickly, I swap positions with Margot just as Gwyn collides into me, the woman not used to her abilities yet. Her nails claw at my neck, and she doesn’t realize it’s me and not her target until I have her arms crossed over her chest and her body locked to mine. “Easy, sweetheart.”

She growls, lunging at Margot like she stands a chance of escaping me. I chuckle when I think about just how impossible it will be for her to get rid of me now.

“They planned on staying for three weeks, but I don’t know who knew about Kathleen’s plan. And I bet Emile will wonder where Peter and Giovanni went at the very least.” Margot backs toward the door, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s back in a week, especially if he finds out Gwyn is gone. You might want to come up with a reason to take her out of the compound. Something he’ll believe.”

Gwyn is squirming in my hold, trying to go after Margot, and I toss her over my shoulder. She screams, thrashing, and I swat her ass just like I did all those weeks ago. When she moans, Margot snorts. The reprieve is brief as Gwyn starts yelling at me almost immediately. Margot speaks over her as if it’s nothing new.

“I need to go deal with the surveillance. Freddie will review it in a few hours, and I need to fix it before he does. Nico handled the mess, and I think he’s found a door…”

I walk Margot to the foyer as she rambles on about all the ways she’s going to earn the raise I already planned on giving her. We both tune out the feral creature on my shoulder. Only when I round the stairs and Margot closes the door behind her does Gwyn stop shouting, but she squirms in my grasp, dying to get free.

“Put me down. Where are we going?”

I do no such thing. “Well, sweetheart, I have three things planned. Number one, get us into the shower. We stink.”

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