Touched by Fire (Demons of New Chicago #1) - Kel Carpenter Page 0,34

finally broken. I swallowed hard and then winced. My throat was dry, the tissue lining had cracked as if sandpaper had been taken over it.

“Here,” a voice said. I was too tired to be startled by the presence at my side. It should have registered when the fingers were touching, taking my temperature, I now realized.

But that was the crash for you. There was a reason I never let it happen in public.

Before now.

A glass of water appeared in front of me.

I sat up to drink it, reaching out with trembling hands. The cup shook in my tight grip as I brought it to my lips.

The crisp coolness hit my tongue, and I tipped my head back, swallowing as much as I could.

The cup emptied far too quickly, but when I swallowed this time, it didn’t hurt so much. I counted that as a win, slowly lowering it from my face as the events before the crash came back to me.

“Fuck,” I groaned. My hand dropped to my lap, and I took a sweep of the room.

My surprise must have shown on my face when I realized it was my room because Nathalie said, “Eidetic memory, remember? When you lost consciousness, I told the driver to bring us to the diner and from there I backtracked it to your apartment. I figured it was probably the safest place for us, given the bomb you have strapped to the door entrance.”

“You stayed.” Her words were still processing, but that was all I seemed to come up with when I searched for a response.

“I did, not that your utterly charming and grateful personality helped,” she said sarcastically, running a pale hand through her light brown hair. My eyes raked over her, carefully noting the clean scent, fresh clothes, and slightly red nose.

“You also went through my apartment,” I added, my voice slightly harder. There was a dangerous edge to it, reflecting the growing unease as I pulled myself out of the stupor the crash left me in.

Nathalie pursed her lips together. “You were unconscious, and I couldn’t wake you. If I hadn’t seen it last time, I would have thought you were violently ill.”

“That’s not a good excuse for going through my apartment,” I said, even as some of the initial ire faded. She wasn’t wrong, but given how well the new clothes fit, she’d also crossed a line whether or not she knew it.

“I have a cold, so I took the medicine you gave me before. I used the same shower and the same towel. I figured you’d rather I didn’t wear your clothes, so I went looking in the other room—”

“Which is the problem,” I said, flinging the covers aside.

“Well you weren’t awake to tell me otherwise, so forgive my snooping for the basic necessities. I did get you out of there, you know,” Nathalie said, getting to her feet to give me some room.

“I didn’t ask you to,” I snapped.

Tossing one leg over the side of the bed, I noticed that she’d also stripped me of my shoes and jeans before putting me to bed.

“Would it kill you to say thank you for once?” Nathalie groused, crossing her arms over her chest.

I reached out and put a hand on the edge of my nightstand, using it to brace myself as I stood. I grabbed my pants and pulled them on, strapping my holster to my thighs as well. I looked to the clock and the glowing red letters read 1:15 in the afternoon.

I gritted my teeth.

“How long have I been out?”

At that, she didn’t answer right away. I had to work to control the panic inside me as I took in her guarded expression. She looked away, a guilty twist of her lips confirming it.

“How long?” I repeated in barely more than a whisper.

“Two and a half days.”

The ground nearly dropped out from under me.

I tripped as I moved forward, and then brushed past her. My living room barely registered as I stumbled toward the front door.

“What are you doing?” Nathalie called as I peered through the tiny circle window in the center.

“Has anyone come to the door?”

“What?” she asked, like that was a crazy thought. “No, no one’s been at the door.”

“Have you seen anyone lurking outside?” I demanded.

“No, I haven’t seen anyone ‘lurking’ outside.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the tone in her voice. “You think I’m being paranoid.”

She scanned my features and then sighed. “It’s been quiet. No one’s come to the door. When I left