leopard-print pasty covering his lower half, while Bitzy wore a matching leopard choker.
“You okay, Fishy?”
Not having enough energy to even speak, I tried to sit up a little more, the room spinning. I swallowed back the vomit in my throat, breathing through my nose. My gaze traveled down my body, which was when I realized I was naked except for my knickers and a bandage covering most of my torso, which wrapped me from my breasts to my hips. The tan bandages were spotted dark red in places.
A blanket covered me, and a pillow rested under my head, but I lay on a hard wooden table, where I was sure Warwick’s friend had operated on me. Herbs, potions, bowls of liquid, medical instruments, bloody rags, and gauze were scattered everywhere near me. Slowly looking around, I took in the shadowy room. The only light was from the two windows above letting in a dull morning glow.
The entire home was made from wood. The ceilings were low and the windows small, like we were partially underground, but the room had a cozy, reclusive feel. The space might have been considered roomy, but it had beam posts and large furniture pieces. Every wall had a different style bookcase, shelf, and table loaded with stacks of books, plants, jars, bowls, and various clutter, which cramped the space.
A soft snore drew my head toward the stone fireplace. The fire was gone, but Warwick filled one of the chairs, slunk in deep, his legs outstretched and head tipped back, sound asleep. It took a moment to take him in. Even in sleep, I could feel his guard was up. Ready to respond if something happened.
Past him, on the far side of the fireplace, I saw a curtained-off doorway where the owner of the house might be. My mind flickered over a memory. I couldn’t quite remember much except his voice. Smooth. Sexual.
I turned, spotting another doorway near me, opening to a small messy kitchen. The entire place was probably the size of my bedroom and bathroom back at HDF.
“This place is so… lived in.” Opie pulled my attention his way, his body wiggling like his skin itched. “I mean, I don’t want to clean it or anything.” His face looked as if he wanted to do just that. “It’s so untidy and dirty. Not that I have anything against it. To each his own, right? But…” He blew out, running his hands through his brown beard. “What do I care if he likes to live in filth?” He rolled his eyes. “Tree fairies.” He shook his head like that explained it all.
A stronger memory of the man who lived here flickered in my head, the one who saved me, with his crystal green eyes, honey-colored hair, and a striking face.
“You must really enjoy almost dying, Fishy.” Opie moved down the table, organizing the items in categories, not able to fight his nature. “I could smell the blood miles away.”
I stared at my friends, not even bothering to ask how they found me. Seemed they could follow my “smell,” no matter where I was. But by their outfits, they had come from Kitty’s.
Bitzy made a happy chirp, her fingers touching my face, still smiling at me, freaking me the fuck out.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” I grunted, every word and movement anguish. Every second that passed, more pain gnawed on my nerves.
“Wrong?” Opie tilted his head over to us.
“She’s smiling at me… and not flipping me off.” I blinked as she sighed happily, her blissful grin not leaving her face, her long fingers curling in the air as if she could touch it. “Is… is she high?”
“Oh. Right. She might have eaten something from one of these jars.” Opie went back to straightening items on the table.
I snorted as Bitzy tried to snatch at nothing.
“Great, you’re awake.”
At the sound of a sultry voice, I turned and propped up on my elbow, seeing a stunning man saunter out from the back room. His unbrushed, wavy, shoulder-length, blond hair framed his bright green eyes and prominent cheekbones.
Damn. He was sooooo pretty.
Warwick bolted up, pulling a gun from his belt, pointing it at the source.
“Fuck, Warwick. Don’t shoot me before I’ve had my tea.” The man yawned, holding up an arm. “Damn, you are wound tightly.”
Warwick peered at his friend, then at me, muttering something before he stomped through the doorway his friend had just come from.
“Sadly, can’t even blame it on him not being a morning