I Am the Wild (The Night Firm #1)- Karpov Kinrade Page 0,26

nearly drooling despite myself, so I guzzle it in one shot—and nearly puke it back up. How can something that smells so good taste so very awful? I gag, but force the vile brew down my throat, at the quiet promptings of Sebastian, who takes the cup from me when I'm done and hands me a cold rag for my head.

Eyeing him cautiously, I lay back down.

He hesitates, then gestures at the space next to me on the bed. "May I?"

I'm still ticked, but nothing's going to be gained by staying mad at him. He's right; he's not Liam. Only today he saved my life, in fact. Never have I had a twenty-four hour period where my life was in such peril with such frequency. Still, I nod and stiffen only a little bit as he climbs into the bed next to me.

He doesn't speak for several minutes, and I close my eyes and enjoy the silence, and, I'll admit, the feeling of his body so close to mine.

It happens in a wave, like water washing over me, and as it does, my body buzzes with energy. The pain recedes, the aches dissipate, and I feel a kind of euphoria that leaves me relaxed and grateful for the relief.

"You are feeling better." It's a statement, not a question.

I nod with my eyes still closed, a small smile on my face. "Thank you," I whisper.

His thumb gently rubs against my temple, all the way down to the line of my jaw, tracing it to my collarbone. His touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake, and I sigh at the contact, though my heart and body are confused by his on again, off again attentions. And my brain is trying to convince me that whatever these feelings are that I'm having for my boss, they need to shut the hell down right away. I'm done with unhealthy power dynamic relationships. They've already messed up my head too much.

The euphoria I was feeling wears off too quickly and I'm left with my doubts and confusion. I sit up quickly and instantly regret it, my head spinning a bit as I look around. "Where are they?" I ask.

"Who?" Sebastian says.

"Your brothers. Their voices woke me. I heard them talking."

Sebastian frowns. "They're in the right wing where I left them. This is my room, in the left wing. There's no way you could have heard them talking," he says.

"Huh. It must have been a dream." I twist to face him, and our bodies are so close—and in his bed, no less—that it's driving me to distraction, but I ignore it, or try to. "What's going on? Maybe those voices were a dream, but the rest of it isn't, is it?"

"No. It's not."

"So, it wasn't the adrenaline..."

Sebastian frowned. "Sorry?"

"After the accident. The door was jammed shut by the crash. You not only kicked it open, but sent it flying off its hinges. At the time I thought it was due to a sudden, massive burst of adrenaline, but it wasn't, was it?"

A slight shake of his head. "No."

"And then you ran with me, carrying me miles, as if I weighed nothing."

He nods again.

"You have coffins in a locked room."

His gaze bores into mine.

"Liam drank my blood."

"Yes. All of this true. Which is why you should have turned down the job. Why you still should. It's not too late. Not yet. You can leave now. I can help you."

"What do you mean it's not too late yet? When will it be too late?"

Before Sebastian can answer, the door slams open and Elijah stands there, an intensity to his eyes. "He's on his way right now!"

Sebastian straightens at that. "What? He's not due to arrive until tomorrow."

Elijah shrugs. "Seems he's come early."

"Bloody hell," Sebastian says. "She doesn't even know everything yet."

Elijah looks at me, then back at Sebastian. "You'd better fill her in fast. He'll be here in twenty."

Elijah leaves, closing the door behind him, and I turn to face Sebastian. "Who's coming? What's going on?"

"We have a new client," he says. "An important client. When you meet him, it's critical you are careful. He's very… dynamic. And dangerous."

"Who's the client?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. You're having a hard enough time believing what you've seen with your own eyes."

"What I've seen is impossible," I say.

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," he says, quoting Shakespeare.

"Funny, you don't strike me as the Shakespeare reading type," I