Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (29 page)

***

Ella waded through the dancing and staggering crowd, heading toward the bar. Fear closed sharp claws around her throat. Had the Shades attacked him even here? Had a Gate opened, a wolf torn him to pieces?

Shut up, shut up!
She’d have heard the screams, seen the commotion. Then where was he? Reaching the bar, she swept her gaze along its glowing plastic surface, searching the faces for a familiar bandana. Finn wasn’t there.

Calling out his name in the deafening mixture of rock music and loud voices would be a waste of breath. She kept walking, checking faces, her heart booming with apprehension. Hands smacked into her, legs tripped her up, faces leered —
just fear
, so she kept walking, shoving her way through.
Just people, not Shades
, so she kept her hands away from her knives.
All’s fine
.

Then she saw him. Finn stood half hidden behind a square pillar, arms folded over his chest, head bent. He was watching something.

“Hey.” She moved in next to him, tried to see what it was that had him so fascinated. “I thought you were going to get us some beer?”

Finn blinked at her. “...Beer?”

“Had too much of it, have you?” She winked, grabbed his arm and tugged. He resisted, turned again to whatever it was he’d been observing.

This time she noticed a little boy sitting at one of the tables, looking forlorn.

“I’m sure his mother just went to get him something,” she said. “They also serve food here.”

Still he didn’t budge. He wrenched his arm out of her grip and leaned back against the pillar, watching.

It seemed important to him. And she wanted to see if she’d guessed right. The wait wasn’t long. A few minutes later, the mother returned, carrying two plates piled with food. The boy’s face lit up.

Finn’s shoulders relaxed.

“Come on,” Ella said. “Let’s get back to the others. They’ll be worried.”

He pushed off the wall and let her take his arm, heading back to their table. Mike looked up when they approached, brows lifting, but said nothing about the lack of beer.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “Perfect.”

Scott told a funny story of how he and Mike met, something about a double blind date and how they escaped together and found they liked each other much better than their dates. Ella listened with one ear, watching Finn who was relaxing again in degrees. Damn the man —
elf
— he nearly broke her heart every time he looked sad. And if anything happened to him — or worse, if he betrayed her trust, she’d hurt like hell. As if her family hadn’t dealt her enough pain, as if Simon’s death and possible betrayal hadn’t burned a hole into her chest, she had to go and fall for an elf hunted by the Shades and with a past so dark she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know all of it.

“Come, Finn, your turn,” Mike called, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. “How did you meet Ella? I bet there’s a funny story waiting to be told.”

Oh, boy
. Finn blinked, shot her a questioning glance. Well, it wasn’t a funny story, but it wasn’t a secret either. She shrugged.

“She saved me from the Shades,” Finn said.

Silence fell. Mike and Scott waited for a few moments, leaning eagerly forward in their seats, then seemed to realize nothing else was forthcoming and slumped back.

“And?” Mike waved a hand in the air.

“She took me home.” The last word rang with some deep emotion, like a crystal bell, and Ella’s eyes stung.

She smiled and gave him a nudge on the arm. “Best decision ever.”

Finn flinched. She frowned. He’d seemed quite relaxed.

“Jeez, get a room you two.” Scott stuck his tongue out. “You’re so sweet my teeth ache.”

A hot flush rose to Ella’s cheeks. It was probably the alcohol.
Yeah
.

Mike laughed, muttering how romantic it was, and clapped Finn on the shoulder.

Finn winced and jerked back in his chair, covering his shoulder with his hand.

And realization dawned.
Shit
. She hadn’t checked him over after the fight with the dragon, too giddy he’d made it out alive. When asked, he’d said he was fine — which should have set off all her alarm bells.

“Guys, I think it’s time to hit the sack.” She faked a yawn, and it turned into a real jaw-cracking one. A glance at her watch told her it was getting late.

“Already?” Scott gestured at the crowd around them. “The night is young.”

But Mike only nodded. “Talk to you tomorrow,” he mouthed against the noise and waved them goodbye. 

***

They hurried out the door and into the quiet. The apartment wasn’t far. Lights from windows and restaurants reflected on the snow still lying on the ground and Finn’s hair. He strode fast, keeping pace, and her worry faded a little. He couldn’t be badly hurt if he moved like that, right?

Then again, this was Finn.

Their building was dark and silent, the only sound a woman’s laughter from upstairs. The lift was their new best friend, and they rode it to the fifth floor.

Finally inside the apartment, she caught Finn’s hand and dragged him to his bedroom. It occurred to her she hadn’t been inside since they’d moved in. It was Finn’s space and she’d respected it. Not that he had any personal items as far as she could tell.

The bed was made with military precision, the protective symbols in the headboard deep and carefully carved. Some iron charms she’d given him hung from the handle of the window — old horse shoes she’d found in a country fair long ago, and a plaque with a spiral pattern.

Funny how she saw spirals everywhere now.

She tugged at Finn’s jacket. “Off.”

Raising a brow, he shed it and laid it on the bed. She pushed him down, against the pillows. “Sweater and shirt. Off.”

“I’m okay.” He sat up, cheeks still flushed from the cold.

“You’re hurt. I need to check your—”

“Just bruises.” However, he started pulling at his sweater, his movements slow. She leaned over him to help and tried to focus on the task at hand — not his lips, not his eyes, not the softness of his hair against her fingers, like silk and feathers. Sweater finally off, she started on his stained and ripped long-sleeved shirt and decided it was time to take Finn shopping. He was fast running out of usable clothes.

Finn winced when he lifted his arms to help her remove the shirt, losing the bandana on the way too, and then just sat, shivering.

Ella sank on the mattress next to him, suddenly feeling too warm all over. She remembered the wicked scar across his chest, but god, he was strong, pale skin stretched over hard muscle, and a six-pack to die for. Eye-candy indeed. She’d get diabetes if she stared any longer.

“I, um...”
Focus!
“I’ll...” She ran her fingertips up his arm and he followed her hand with his gaze.

Just bruises
. His arms were black and blue, his shoulders interesting shades of purple. Nothing swollen, though, and he could move them which —
probably
— meant nothing was broken. Hard to be sure. After all, this was the guy who, as a child, had dragged himself to a village, a day’s walk away, with bone splinters sticking out of his leg.

At least the gauze taped to his side was clean; no bleeding from the old gashes. She drew a long breath. “Are you sure it’s just bruising?”

He nodded and the charms he wore jingled against his chest.

She saw him again underneath the stone-plated dragon, saw the moment the creature crashed, when she thought he’d died.

Hurriedly she got up, her chest a mass of heaving emotions.
No
.
Too soon, too complicated
. She’d do something really stupid and regret it later. “Try and get some sleep.”

She left his room, not looking back, proud she managed. Not that she expected to get any sleep herself.

Surprisingly, she did. She’d planned to check the book some more, but before even finishing a page of obscure references to the
aesir
, the Norse gods, and the list of sacrifices Sirurd promised them, she fell into a dream where darkness swirled, swallowing her down.

She drifted in a black stream, seeing faces and places she was sure she knew but couldn’t place. Trees sighed overhead, and streams gurgled, monsters lurked in the shadows, and she kicked and cursed, because she wanted to leave, to get back home.

The darkness expanded and contracted, seemed to be breathing. A voice called her, invited her closer, and she fought it. A face appeared — deep-set eyes, a strong nose. A man’s lined face, a familiar face, a scar running down one cheek, distorting his mouth.

“Can you hear me?” he asked and the wind howled around them, stinging her skin like needles. “I can help you, but you must come with me.”

She wanted him to leave. Wanted to escape him. He was going to hurt her again, and there was nothing she could do. She tried to shout but no sound came from her throat.

This is not my memory
, she wanted to say.
Leave me out of it
.

With a huge gasp, she came awake, wrapped in her blankets and drenched in sweat. Blearily she blinked about. Her room, objects floating in dimness, carton boxes and a chair with her clothes thrown on it.

Oh, thank god, just a dream
.

She lifted her hand to turn on the bedside table lamp, when there was a noise. It seemed to come from the other side of the wall. Probably what woke her in the first place. She lowered her hand, listened.