A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(27)

She’d been distinctly aware that he’d lain between her and the window, and as he drew her to his chest, she’d felt…protected.

Just when she thought she had him figured out, he did something to surprise her.

She opened her eyes and sat up, then blinked as if the scene couldn’t be right. If he noticed she’d woken, he didn’t indicate it, just continued sitting in the corner in the dark, watching her with glowing eyes. Disbelieving her night vision, she reached for the bedside lamp. It lay crushed beside the bed.

She’d seen correctly. The room was…destroyed.

What had happened? What could make him do this?

“Get dressed. We leave in twenty minutes.” He rose wearily, nearly stumbling as his leg seemed to give out, then limped to the door.

“But, Lachlain…”

The door closed behind him.

She stared, bewildered, at the claw marks in the walls, the floor, the furniture. Everything was rent to pieces.

She looked down. Well, not everything. Her belongings sat behind the savaged chair as though he’d hidden them away, knowing what was about to come. The blanket he’d strung up over the curtains sometime last night still hung where it added another safeguard against the sun. And the bed? Claw marks, mattress foam, and feathers surrounded her like a pod.

She was untouched.





9


I f Lachlain didn’t want to tell her why he’d huffed and puffed and torn their hotel room to bits, then fine by her. After she’d thrown on a skirt, shirt, and boots and very purposely tied a folded scarf over her ears, she dug her iPod out of her luggage and strapped it on her arm.

Her aunt Myst called it the EIP, or “Emma’s iPod Pacifier,” because whenever Emma got irritated or angry, she listened to music in order to “avoid conflict.” As if this were a bad thing.

And if the EIP wasn’t made for a time like this….

Emma was pissed. Just when she’d decided this Lykae might be okay, that he’d finally begun leaning the right way in the sane-or-not conundrum, he had to go all big bad wolf on her. But this little piggy can compartmentalize, Emma thought, and Lachlain was cruising toward getting squared away in her mind forever.

His personality changed like rapid fire, from the soul-searing embrace in the rain when he’d pressed his naked chest against hers, to the howling attacks, to the gentle would-be lover in the bathtub last night. He kept her wary—an unfortunate and fatiguing state that she already tended to—and that frustrated her.

And now this. He’d left her with this ravaged room and no explanation. She could’ve looked like that chair.

She blew a curl out of her eyes, and found a wisp of upholstery filler had attached itself to her hair. As she swatted at it, she realized she was as angry at herself as she was with him.

Her first night with him, he’d allowed sun to burn her skin, and now, today, he’d used those claws—which had shredded the side of a car—in a frenzy while she’d slept unaware.

Why had she overprotected herself all her life, put forth the exhausting effort to do so, then thrown caution out the window regarding him? Why had her family taken pains to keep her safe, moving the coven to Lore-rich New Orleans to hide her, cloaking the manor in darkness only to have her die now—

Cloaking the manor…? Why had they done that? She never rose before sunset, never remained awake past sunrise. Her room was shuttered and she slept under the bed. So why did she have memories of running through their darkened home during the day?

Her gaze was drawn to the back of her hand, her trembling immediate. For the first time since she’d been frozen into her immortality, the memory of her “lesson” erupted in her mind with a perfect clarity….

A witch was babysitting. Emma was in the woman’s arms when she heard Annika returning to the manor after a week’s absence and struggled until she freed herself. Screaming Annika’s name, Emma ran for her.

Regin had heard her and tackled her into the shadows right before Emma ran headlong for the sun shining in from the just-opened door.

Regin squeezed her to her chest with shaking arms and whispered, “What’d you do that for?” With another squeeze, she mumbled, “Boneheaded little leech.”

By this time everyone had come downstairs. The witch apologized abjectly, saying, “Emma hissed and snapped and scared me till I dropped her.”

Annika scolded Emma between her shudders, until Furie’s voice sounded from outside the circle. The crowd parted to let her pass. Furie was, just as her name said, part Fury. And she was frightening.

“Put the child’s hand in it.”

Annika’s face had paled even more than natural. “She is not like us. She’s delicate—”

“She hissed and fought to get what she wanted,” Furie interrupted. “I’d say she’s exactly like us. And like us, the pain will teach her.”

Furie’s twin, Cara, said, “She’s right.” They always took each other’s sides. “This isn’t the first time there’s been a close call. Her hand now or her face—or, worse, her life—later. It doesn’t matter how dark we keep the manor if you can’t keep her inside.”

“I won’t do it,” Annika said. “I…can’t do it.”

Regin dragged Emma along, though she resisted. “Then I will.”