Chapter 9

I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep. Or even how, but the sound of the door creaking open and the icy wind penetrating my nice little, warm cocoon pulled me from my troubled slumber.

I sat up instantly as Starke swept into the room, cursing myself for letting my guard down. So much for tackling him on his way in. There went that idea for now.

I was surprised to see it was still night. The only light in the room was from the smoldering embers left in the hearth and the lone candle I’d found in the cupboard.

He said nothing as he dropped an overstuffed canvas bag on the table and immediately stomped across the room to the fireplace.

“I told you to keep the fire up,” he criticized as he threw a few more logs onto the embers. They caught at once, bursting into dancing flames. “It can drop to freezing here at night.”

I shrugged, causing a jolt of pain to radiate down my arm. The cut hurt more now than ever. “Why do you care if I freeze or not?”

“I do not wish for you to die. Asha needs you alive.”

Ouch. That hurt.

I hid my pain under sarcasm, as always. “Well, then maybe I should let myself freeze to death. Wouldn’t that put a little crimp in her plan since I don’t have a firstborn to pass my elemental powers on to.”

He stoked the fire not even a little put out at my words. “A slight hiccup. The prism would choose another from the multiverse to carry the title. We would simply track her or him down.”

That threw me. “What? I thought it had to be a family thing? Passed down since the beginning of time and all that jazz.”

“That is the simplest and fastest way. But not the only. If the prism could not choose another elemental if misfortune were to befall one of the originals, then the multiverse would not have lasted long, now would it?” He quirked a brow at me like I was the stupidest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. And to be honest, I actually felt that way right now. Talk about bringing me down a peg or two.

“So, you’re telling me if I die today, the prism would choose another to take my place? Just like that?”

“It would. A child would be born with the power. But the child must grow and evolve naturally and without interference. Not even the prism can interfere with human progression. It would take years for the power to show. And since we do not have that time to waste, you need to stay alive.”

I processed the information, storing it away. It was good to know. “And is that the only reason you want me to stay alive?”

The question popped out of my mouth before I could help it. He paused with his fire poking and turned my way.

“You are needed for the cause, water elemental. That is my only concern for your wellbeing.”

His words cut sharp and something deep inside me withered. I sucked in a breath, trying to hide how much it hurt me to hear him say he really didn’t care.

“Yeah, well, if you’re so concerned over the cause maybe you shouldn’t be letting me starve to death,” I snapped, covering my pain. “I haven’t eaten in a day. Please tell me you have food in that bag of yours.”

“I do. But first things first.”

He went to the bag, rooting through it and brought out what looked like rags, a ceramic jar, and a bottle of clear liquid.

Bringing the items to me, he towered over me, glaring down. His hot gaze skimmed over my body, warming me. And yet, the malice he exuded made me shiver all the same.

“Take off your shirt.”

I blinked at him, pulling the blanket I was covered with up to my chin. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You are wounded. It needs to be treated.”

He reached for the blanket, and I yanked away.

“Lay a finger on me and risk losing it,” I warned. “I don’t want your help, especially since you’re the reason I’m injured in the first place. You tossed me through a window, ass-wipe.”

His sigh rustled against the top of my head. “An unfortunate accident, but don’t be a mule-turd. I must clean your injury before it becomes infected. Asha needs you at full potential.”

I hid my disappointment. Knowing the only reason he wanted to tend to my injury was because he wanted to use me in Asha’s war stung a hell of a lot more than I cared to admit.

“A mule turd?” So, as usual, I hid my pain under sarcasm. “Ow, my ears. Watch your mouth, Princey. That’s some nasty language you’re using there.”

He sighed again. Just like the old Starke did when he was around me. “I am trying to be patient with you, but you are making it difficult. You claim we were friends before I was chosen for my mother’s cause?”

He ignored my sarcastic, ‘Hah. Cause. Right’ and kept talking. “But I truly find that hard to believe. You are so irritatingly annoying I find it hard to believe that anyone could actually tolerate your presence, let alone seek it out.”

So happy he cleared up how he really felt.

“Oh yeah?” I snapped. “Well, maybe it’s because the other Starke, the real Starke I was friends with, wasn’t such a prick with a ten-foot stick up his ass like the guy in front of me right now. That Starke was fun, and good, and kind. Words I’m sure you are totally unfamiliar with since you drank the Kool-Aid.”

“Did I mention the fact that you speak gibberish and make lots of noise but never anything viable or coherent?”

I gave him a venomous middle finger salute, which he promptly ignored.

“Now, one last time. Shirt. Off. Now. Or I will rip it off.”

“Up. Yours. Dickwad. Is that coherent enough?”

“You can either allow me to help you or…”

“Or what?” My fingers balled into fists. “You’ll force me? You’re getting really good at that sort of thing, aren’t you?”

We glared at each other for a split second before he growled and yanked the blanket down, his intention quite clear. He was going to follow through on his threat.

“Okay, okay, back off, King Kong. I’ll take my shirt off.” I muttered the last words crossly, angry at myself for giving in but knowing damn well he would rip the shirt off my back. And really, what would that accomplish in the end? He would get his way, and I would be shirtless, and well, I kind of needed to be covered if I was going to survive the cold outside when I escaped.

He didn’t say anything at his victory, but I swear I could see a gleam of satisfaction in his eye just before I yanked the stupid blanket over my head.

Struggling with removing my top without losing my blanket, I finally succeeded and pulled the blanket back down to tuck around my chest, covering up my granny bra. He didn’t need to see that. I glanced down at the aching gash on my arm and did a double take. The bloody, seeping gash. It was a lot bigger and deeper than I’d even realized. Red and weeping, already well on its way to infection. Great. Just what I needed.

Starke stared at the cut for far too long. Frozen in spot. I studied him, trying to find any iota of remorse or emotion. His face remained a blank canvas, but I swear his eyes flashed a more brilliant green as if something was trying to make its way to the surface.

Without a word, he sat beside me, sinking into the feather mattress and dipping me toward him. I reached out automatically, my hand landing flat on his hard chest to steady myself. I felt his heartbeat under my palm, strong and steady, and for a moment, I was reminded of my Starke. Reminded that his heart still beat under this stranger’s mask. A Starke I needed to bring back. He glanced down at my hand, and I yanked it away, like his chest had suddenly scalded my palm.

A small smile appeared as he shifted, grabbing the clear bottle from the floor where he laid it. He unscrewed the lid, and a bitter, sharp odor hit my nose. He wrapped his fingers around my arm below the wound, and it took everything in my willpower not to lean into him. His touch was so foreign yet so familiar, and I desperately wanted more of it. I was a moron.

“Where did you get all this?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the warm fingers touching me. “You travelled to another world, didn’t you?”

I took his silence as a yes.

“So, that means you can either create portals yourself now, or we are not as alone here as I believed. And since I don’t feel any other magic auras, that leaves one option. You don’t need me or the other elementals to open portals anymore, do you?”

He shot me a look of disdain. “Blood magic is powerful. You should realize that by now.”

“Hmm. Well, not powerful enough to restart the prism obviously. Just sayin’.”

He ignored my sarcastic jab. Instead, he twisted my arm gently, looking over the wound.

“I need more light,” he murmured. Tsking to himself, his free hand lifted slightly in the air and he whispered under his breath as the room lit up. I sucked in a breath, and my chest ached as the familiar tiny, floating puffballs of light surrounded us. The same ones he had created the night at the waterfall. The night he taught me to dance. The night he kissed me. Did he do this on purpose? Did he truly remember?

“Better,” he said, totally blasé about the impact the lights were having on me. I swallowed my tears as pain filled my chest. He didn’t recall it. Not like I did. It wasn’t anything special to him. Just extra light. Disappointment truly was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Brace yourself.” His voice was gruff as I felt him lean closer, and the first splash of icy liquid hit my wound. Air hissed through my clenched teeth as pain radiated up and down my arm, into my shoulder and fingers. I clenched my fist and bit my tongue, fighting back the yell. The bitter scent intensified as the liquid bubbled in the wound. I focused on the sting, preferring it to the throbbing ache in my chest.

Without warning he poured more liquid over the wound, sending another wave of pain lancing down my arm.

“Would have been nice to know there was going to be a round two,” I hissed, sniffing back the tears threatening to fall.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and I almost believed he was. “I need to make sure it’s thoroughly cleaned.You cannot afford to have it infected.”

“Like you would care. As you said, I’m just a stupid cog in the wheel. Doesn’t matter if I die or not,” I whispered. I didn’t mean to say it. It kind of just escaped my lips, my grief making me reckless.

“And as I’ve already said, water wielder, I do not wish for you to die.”

“Because Asha needs me for her plan.”

“Yes. That. And…” He trailed off, and I glanced up.

“And what?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he added gruffly. He dabbed a cloth along the wound, careful not to exert too much pressure as he soaked up the dripping liquid. Brows creased in concentration, he studied the wound, refusing to make eye contact with me.

“It does matter,” I insisted. “And what? What were you about to say?”

“Nothing important.”

“Bullshit,” I argued. “Spill it. What were you about to say?”

“Let it go, Bridjette.” His gaze flashed black as it met mine while his tone was quite clear that this conversation was over. I wasn’t so convinced, but I decided to drop it. I didn’t want to upset evil Starke again. I didn’t want to take another flight across the room.

He leaned over and picked up the ceramic jar, removing the lid. He dipped his two fingers into the jar, then set it aside. A thick, yellowy-orange substance covered his fingers, and the pungent smell made me wrinkle my nose.

“It doesn’t smell the best, but it works wonders on infection and pain. It will also help speed up your healing.”

I shivered as the icy ointment touched my skin. Starke massaged it gently over the wound, warming the balm and my flesh. His knuckle brushed the side of my breast, and a shiver of awareness skated over me as goosebumps erupted from head to toe.

For Pete’s sake, Jette. Get ahold of yourself. Stop acting like a horny schoolgirl.

Starke was head down and engrossed in his task, totally unaware of how his touch affected me. Thank God. I didn’t need to humiliate myself. He was just trying to dress my wound, not seduce me… no matter how much I preferred the latter.

Dress my wound.

The words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I sat up straighter as a small flicker of hope flared in my chest.

“Why are you doing this?”

He wrapped a clean bandage on my arm, pinning it in place, before lifting his puzzled gaze to mine. “What?”

“You… dressing my wound, using ointment to stop infection. Why not just use magic? You just said blood magic is the most powerful kind. With a simple flick of your hand and a magic word, you can set me on the road to healing, just like you did on Bixby’s world. But you’re doing it old school. Why?”

He tore his gaze from mine, bending down to collect the bottles of ointment. “You said you were hungry, yes? I’ll get us food.”

“Oh hell no. You are so not changing the subject, Princey. Answer me. Why are you doing this old school? Why won’t you use blood magic to heal me?”

“That really isn’t important. What is important is that you do heal to assist us in the cause.” He stood upright and strode across the room to his backpack.

“Aw man, there is so much bullshit floating around this room I’m afraid I just might choke on it.”

“Again, you make no sense—”

“Oh, I think I’m making perfect sense. You are not using magic to heal me, and there has to be a damn good reason for that. So, why don’t you tell me?”

He sighed for about the millionth time. “Jette, do you want food or not?”

I froze in spot. “What did you just call me?”

“Sweet Endova, why does it matter?” He threw the bag back to the table in frustration as he stared my way. “You are working on my last nerve.”

“Because it does. You just called me Jette. Not Bridjette or water wielder. Jette. Plus, you used the pussy willow lights to light up the room just like you did the night at the waterfall. And you won’t use blood magic to heal me. You want to know why I think that is?”

“Not really,” he retorted dryly. I ignored him as I got to my feet, making sure to keep the blanket wrapped around my torso.

“I think you’re starting to remember, Ungar Starke. I think the reason you brought me here was to keep me out of Asha’s greedy grasp. And the reason you won’t use magic to heal me is because you will have to use too much. It will be traceable, and you don’t want her to find us. She’s looking for me, and you want to keep me your dirty little secret. You don’t want dear ol’ mama to know. Tell me I’m right.”

He studied me for a moment in silence, a pulse of dark power radiating off his muscled body—a warning. It felt malevolent but tinged with an undercurrent of pain and confusion. Like he was totally undergoing some inner turmoil right now.

Without a word, he averted his gaze from me and back to the bag. Yanking the rest of the contents from the sack, he began lining them up on the table.

“I brought you some cheese and bread. There are a few oranges in there and some oat grains you can cook in the hearth. Not much, but it will keep you from starving for now.”

I took an angry stride toward him. “Don’t ignore me. I don’t give a crap about what you brought. Answer my damn question.”

“I will fill the water jug from the well before I leave—”

I rushed at him, tripping over the stupid blanket in the process. It yanked from my hands as I stepped on it, exposing my bare torso covered only by the cotton bra. But I didn’t care I was just in my bra. His avoidance of my question was pissing me off to no end.

“Answer me Starke. It’s true isn’t it? You brought me here because you don’t want Asha to have me. Deep down, you know we mean something to each other. That we have a connection. Please, Starke. Tell me I’m right. Tell me you remember.”

My last few words fell from my lips more like a plea of anguish than a question, but I wanted to know. I needed to know. I was desperate to find out if my Starke was still within reach. Our whole futures depended on his answer.

His face was expressionless as his jade gaze travelled slowly up my body before locking with mine.

“You are right, water wielder. I do remember.”

I exhaled as my heart suddenly felt two sizes too big for my chest.

“I remember how you challenged me and my mother and turned the wolven against us. I remember how you are a thorn in our side, trying to block us at everything we do. We,” he waved a finger back and forth between us, “are not a thing. You are my prisoner. A way for my queen to create our master race of Fae, for that is the only thing that concerns me, my mother’s plan. We do not exist. You do not matter.”

And just like that, my inflated heart withered to a tiny pea. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. Pain and denial fueled my anger as I swung at him, my hand curled into a fist.

“Lies!” I screamed as I aimed for his damn face. His hand snapped up and caught mine before I could land the punch. He moved impossibly fast as he twisted my arm and spun me around. He yanked me back, pinning me against his hard chest as he caught my other hand, pinning them both to my sides. A shriek of frustration ripped from my throat as I tossed my head forward, ready to slam it back into his.

“Don’t do it.” His voice whispered the warning in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh, but you already have.

I didn’t heed his warning. I tossed my head back, but he pushed me away before I could smash it into him. I stumbled as I fell forward, the pain lancing up my arm competing with the one in my chest. I tripped over the damn blanket again and fell to one knee, groaning as I caught myself with my injured arm. He made no move to help me.

A broken, wet laugh escaped my chest as I pushed myself to my feet, the truth becoming undeniably evident.

He really didn’t care. He didn’t care about my safety or the safety of any of the elementals. We were just a prize to him. A trophy to hand off to his mother when the time was right. All the time we’d spent together, all the times he’d kissed me or told me I was special and that I intrigued him, none of it mattered to him. It was all gone. Meaningless. And if my Starke was still in there, then he was buried extremely deep. Possibly too deep to ever retrieve. That scared me more than anything.

I squared my shoulders, pulling myself back under control before I turned to face him. I refused to let him see tears. “I think you should go.”

He ducked his head in agreement. “I will be back to check on you in the morning. Heed my warning and keep the fire burning bright.”

I wanted to scream at him every obscenity thrumming through my head. I wanted my sai so I could drive it straight into his chest. Carve the blade deep into his heart like his words had done to mine. Instead, I picked up my blanket with all the pride I could muster and tossed it around my shoulders. I stayed as still as a statue, not moving a muscle as I watched him move about the room. He gathered up the water jug and was back within minutes with fresh water for me. He said nothing about the fact that I was still standing in the same position he’d left me in. I remained mute and motionless as he placed the jug on the table and let himself out again, the magic crackling as he warded the door. Once I knew he was truly gone, only then did I move. Only then did I crumple to the floor and let my broken heart take over.