Holding his hand over the cloth to savor the cool sensation of magic, he said, “You did this. You made this.”
“Yes.” She looked surprised. “How can you tell?”
“It feels like you.”
A tinge of color touched her cheeks. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a very good thing,” he murmured, watching her. That tinge of color was for him, only this time it wasn’t from distress or anger. Surprised by how good that knowledge felt, he pressed for more. “It’s one of the best things I’ve felt in a long time.”
The pink in her cheeks turned brighter while the expression in her eyes grew vulnerable again. She asked, “What are you doing now?”
Wanting to feel the real thing, not just her Power, he reached out to stroke the petal-soft skin of her cheek. “I want you to trust me,” he said steadily. “I’m going to ask you to believe that I walked away last night for good reasons, and none of those reasons had anything to do with you. None of them had anything to do with how much I wanted to stay with you. We can talk more about it later, but for now, can you trust me that much?”
Her breath came out of her on a gentle, unsteady sigh. After compressing her lips together for a brief moment, she nodded. “Okay. I do trust you that much.”
“Thank you, my Sophie,” he whispered.
Her attention fell to the pouch she held. Opening it, she shook a pile of polished stones into one palm. They were pretty, rose quartz with gold runes engraved into them. Her eyes went unfocused. “I’m trying to figure out how to phrase the issue. You want answers about what happened.”
“I guess the key is not so much to find out if I made a mistake.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The key is to make sure that whatever it was doesn’t happen again. That’s why I haven’t been able to let it go. Maybe it was a mistake I made. Maybe they have an ability to track us that we don’t know about. If Robin created the fog, I can let that go, but maybe the person responsible for the fog wasn’t Robin. Maybe that person was the same someone who also found me.”
As she listened, she nodded. “So the question becomes, what are the vulnerabilities we have that we do not know?” Her glance darted sidelong at him, as quick as a silverfish, and then away again. She added, “Regarding this conflict. Would that be correct?”
“Yes.” He sat back and folded his arms. “That’s the essence of the issue.”
“All right. I can use that. Now I need for you to be quiet and let me work. Don’t ask questions until I’m done.”
As he watched, she held the stones cupped in both hands for a long moment while her features settled into an expression of concentration. Then she tossed the rune stones gently onto the cloth.
This was what she had done when she had received the vision of him and when he had connected to the image of her. He watched her closely, fascinated by every small, minute shift in her expression. Her attention focused on things he couldn’t see.
As he watched, her skin darkened. Her mouth opened as if she would speak, but no sound came out. She placed a hand to her throat, and that was when he realized she wasn’t breathing.
“Sophie,” he said. His heart pounded.
When she didn’t respond, he stood so fast it shot his chair back against the wall. He shoved the table aside, sending cloth and stones flying, picked her up, and laid her quickly on her back, on the floor.
She still isn’t breathing.
Panic fired along all his nerve endings. Gently he parted her lips and ran his forefinger through her mouth to make sure there weren’t any obstructions. He hadn’t seen her put anything in her mouth, but he had to make sure. Then he sealed her lips with his and blew air into her lungs. Then again. And again.
“Come on,” he rasped in between breaths. What do you say when your world has stopped? “What the fuck is the matter with you, Sophie, come on.”
After giving her three breaths, he felt for a pulse. Part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this. She had been fine. She had just been fine.
Suddenly she broke into a spasm of coughing, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Her eyes flared wide. She stared at him, then rolled onto her side, sucking air and coughing.
“Easy, take it easy,” he said hoarsely while he rubbed her back. “You’re okay.”
But you almost weren’t.
As she pushed herself into a sitting position, he slid an arm underneath her to help, then he kept gathering her up until he held her in his arms. She didn’t appear to mind. Either she was shaking or he was. Gods damn, this day had been hell on his nerves, and he hadn’t even seen any combat.
He knew how to fight and fight well. He didn’t know how to deal with any of this other shit. At this point, combat would be a relief.
Rein it in, Nik. One thing at a time.
Putting his face in her hair, he forced himself to say calmly, “You stopped breathing. Are you aware that you stopped breathing?”
“I came to that conclusion,” she croaked. She was still sucking in great lungsful of air. “I need a drink of water.”
Immediately he rose, rinsed her brandy glass and filled it with fresh water, and brought it to her. He knelt on one knee while she drank. She drained the glass, and he took it from her to set it aside.
As her color returned to normal, he said, again in a too-calm voice, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that casting the runes was so dangerous? If I had known, I never would have asked that of you.”
“Normally, they’re not.” Her voice hitched and sounded raspy. She coughed again. “Normally I just see your garden-variety type of vision. This is only the second time it’s become too real. I’ve got to stop throwing those stones.”
He agreed wholeheartedly. While he glanced around the kitchen, he opened his senses wide to check for dangerous magic. Was there a hint of something in the air that he had felt before, something on that first day when the Hounds had ambushed him? Some other Power in play…
There, low to the ground, he saw the monkey peering around the corner, watching them from the doorway to the sitting room. Even for a monkey, Robin wore an odd expression, looking somehow feral and sad all at once.
Rage detonated deep inside. Nikolas hissed, Did you do this to her? After everything she has done for you?
The puck whisked out of sight. Intent on going after him, Nikolas started to rise. The only thing that stopped him was Sophie reaching for his hand. She looked so distressed he abandoned going after the puck for the moment and put his arms around her.
She tucked her face into the crook of his neck and leaned against him, and it was so unlike her usual, snappy self he had no choice but to enfold her, cradling her against his chest as close as he could.
The detonation of rage didn’t die. Instead, it grew stronger. He growled, “What did you see in the vision?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered.
Her voice sounded hurt and small, which frankly made a part of him crazy. He hated that something had managed to get inside her and wound her like that. He cupped her head as if to shield her from the world.
As if to shield her most especially from himself, even as he said in a quiet, hard voice, “It doesn’t matter whether you want to or not. You have to talk about it.”
When she didn’t respond, he slipped a hand underneath her chin and forced her to look up. Her eyes had filled with tears, and she looked at him with such… such compassion?… it started an entirely different alarm going off inside him.
“What?” he said.
Her face tightened. “In the vision, one of your men tried to kill me.”