Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(11)

“Oh, you better believe I will. I’m going to shower them with so much attention I might have to name them and take them out to dinner.”

I laughed outright at that. “How was work?”

“Boring as being forced to sit through New Moon repeatedly,” he replied.

“You better not let Tink hear you say that,” I warned. “Or he’ll find new ways to torture you with how he’s convinced Jacob and Edward should’ve gotten together. He’s into something called slash fiction now.”

“You know,” he said slowly, “I’m not even going to touch that with a twenty-foot pole.”

“I wouldn’t.” I paused, closing my eyes. “So, no fae? Nothing?”

“Not a damn thing.”

I traced the outlines of his knuckles. “That is so freaking bizarre.”

“Yep.”

A couple moments passed while I thought about what I wanted to do tomorrow. “So I was thinking . . .”

“That’s what I smell.”

“Geez.” I rolled my eyes. “You and Tink have more in common than you want to admit.”

“I might have to kick you out of the bed for that.”

I snorted. “Um, yeah, you can’t kick me out of my own bed. Sorry.”

“Whatever,” he replied. “What were you thinking about?”

I drew in a deep breath. “I was going to go out tomorrow—not to work. Just to get back out there.”

“Sounds good. I got the evening shift again.” His hand flattened against my belly. “You can come out with me.”

I opened my eyes and winced. “I kind of wanted to just go out and do my own thing.”

“Why?”

My wince turned into a frown. “Does there need to be a why?”

“Yeah, I like to think so.”

I stopped tracing his knuckles. “I just want to get back out there. It’s not a big deal.”

“And you have to do that alone?” he queried softly.

“Well, yeah. I kind of want to do it alone.” I flipped onto my back. “It’s nothing personal. I just—”

“I know, Ivy,” he said with a sigh. “You’ve got to prove you’re still the badass that you are. You don’t want a babysitter or a guard.”

My brows inched up my forehead. “Why would I need either of those two things even if I weren’t a badass? No one has seen a fae in days.”

“Has nothing to do with the fae,” he replied. “You need a damn babysitter because you want to get out there and find Valerie.”





Chapter Four


Oh shit.

“Yeah, you think I don’t know you that well, do you?” he stated.

I laughed dryly and muttered, “You don’t.”

Ren stiffened. “What the hell?” He lifted his hand and I felt the bed shift as he rose up onto his elbow. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I screwed my eyes shut. Okay. I probably shouldn’t have said that for a ton of obvious reasons. “I’m sorry. “

“You really don’t sound like you mean that.”

I shook my head even though he couldn’t see it. Frustration rose, and I knew I was the one who was in the wrong. Not him. He was right about the Val thing, but there was no way I’d find her with him tagging along. For some reason, and maybe it was a dumb reason, I felt like if I could find Val by myself, she wouldn’t run from me.

There was also the whole finding Val’s parents thing. Ren wouldn’t and shouldn’t be along for that ride.

Ren exhaled heavily. “I know you need to find her. She was your closest friend, but she betrayed the Order and you. She nearly got you killed. No matter what questions you have for her or how she answers them, it’s not going to change what happened.”

I pressed my lips together.

“And if you find her, you might actually find fae,” he added.

“Well, that would suck, but . . . if I do find fae, I know how to do my job, Ren.”

“I’m not saying that you don’t know how to do your job.” He leaned over, switching on the nightstand lamp. “But I am going to be really honest with you.”

My gaze flicked over to him. Dammit, why did he have to be so hot, because it was really hard to be irritated with him when I wanted to kiss him. “Of course you are,” I muttered.

He ignored that. “You are strong and brave, but you were seriously injured a week ago—”

“A week and three days ago,” I corrected him.

Ren eyed me. “Do those three days really make a difference?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “Look, it’s late. You just got off in more than one way—”

“So did you,” he reminded me.

I shot him a look. “Can you turn off the light so we can go to bed?”

“No.”

My eyes narrowed. “Ren . . .”

His green eyes met mine. “You’re not ready to be back out there.”

“Oh, so you’re a doctor now?”

“You almost died, Ivy.”

A slice of bitter panic lit up my chest. “Thanks for the reminder.”