Death Bringer

again.

“Ella, let me help you. You’re weaving around like a drunk.”

“I’m fine. Go away.”

He took hold of her arm and spun her around to face him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking you home, where we will go to sleep. If you want to continue this discussion in the morning, when we’re both refreshed, I’ll be more than willing to do so.” He paused. “Are you mimicking me?”

“I can’t help it. You get so polite and Russian when you’re pissed with me.”

He let go of her and looked down at the ground. “I can’t do this right now. Can we just go home?”

Without giving him a direct answer, she set off along the coastal path and up the hill, toward her basement apartment. Things really were bad if they didn’t have the energy to fight with each other. He followed her silently, his breathing even, his presence a comfort she refused to acknowledge.

She still couldn’t deal with the fact that she was a) alive and b) mated to an enigma. She’d confidently expected to go nuts in a week, when she turned twenty-seven. It happened to empaths. She’d assumed it would happen to her and had lived her whole life accordingly. But in a strange twist of fate, she’d ended up with Mr. “I’m not quite human” GQ.

She snorted. Strike that. He wasn’t human at all. He was Fae fucking royalty.

“What’s wrong?”

She’d stopped walking and was breathing hard through her nose.

“Nothing!”

Perhaps it was a good idea to let him spend the night. When she’d rested, she’d make sure to interrogate him thoroughly about his family in Otherworld before she let him eat or have sex with her ever again.

Not that she needed to have sex with him like she needed her next breath.

“Do you want a push up the hill?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She kept walking, her gaze fixed on the looming Victorian house with its white railings, steep steps and gabled roofline.

“I’ll get the door.”

He disappeared ahead of her. Could she do that now? Use magic to get stuff done? She hadn’t actually asked Vadim how much of his power she could control and manipulate, now that they were bonded. She’d tried not to ask him anything at all.

By the time she reached the front door, he’d turned on the lights, started a fire in the grate and put the coffee on. Her mail was stacked on the countertop, and he was already in the bathroom sloshing water around. Not that she minded. He would always leave the place cleaner than when he’d entered it. It was one of his more endearing, yet annoying, habits.

Wearily, she stripped off her coat and hat and threw them toward the back of the couch. All she wanted was a shower and her bed and two days to sleep.

A blast of fragrant steam billowed out of the bathroom, and Vadim came out. He picked up her coat and put it over his arm.

“The shower’s on. You go ahead. Do you want me to bring you some coffee or anything to eat?”

Ella just stared at him until he took her by the hand and gently pushed her into the bathroom. By the time she opened her mouth to reply, he’d closed the door behind him, leaving her alone. She took off her clothes and got into the shower, sighing as the hot water streamed over her. It took all her remaining energy to lift her arms long enough to shampoo her hair.

When she finally rinsed out the conditioner and could see again, a mug of herbal tea stood on the ledge next to her. Had Vadim come in while she was showering, or was he no longer hiding the extent of his abilities? She guessed the latter. After sipping the tea, she stepped out onto the fluffy mat and found two warm towels and her favorite pink bunny pajamas awaiting her.

Damn, the man was good.

She dressed and didn’t bother to dry her hair, just wrapped it up in the towel and went back into the kitchen. He was standing at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee and watching something in the toaster. He’d taken off his coat, jacket and tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll head straight to bed.”

He looked up. “Good night, Ella.”

“’Night, Morosov.”

When she closed her bedroom door, she realized he’d put the bedside lamp on and turned on her heated blankie. With a sigh, she threw herself into bed and wrapped the warmed quilt around her. Bliss.

Twenty minutes later she opened one eye and listened intently to the silence around her. Where was Vadim? She couldn’t sleep without knowing what he was doing.

She got out of bed and opened the door a crack. The scent of toasted bread floated over her, but the kitchen was in darkness and so was the bathroom. Had he really gone? A feeling not unlike terror clutched at her heart. She opened the door wider and stepped into the hallway.

“Morosov?”

A slight sound made her peer into the gloom. Was that a hint of white on the couch?

“Ouch!” She recoiled as her knee collided with the chair arm.

“Ella, are you all right?”

She fumbled her way to the seat, still holding her knee, and sat down. “You’re sleeping on the couch?”

“Where else would I sleep?” His voice was low and husky. “It’s better than the beach.”

She touched his leg. “I thought you’d gone.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

His fingers curled around hers, and he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Then go back to bed.”

“Okay.” He let go of her and she slowly stood up. “See you in the morning, then.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Good to know.” She went back to bed and slid between the sheets. With an exhausted sigh, she closed her eyes.

“You don’t need to come and find me. You’ll know if I’ve really gone.”

“How?”

“You won’t sense me in your head.”

“That would be a blessing.”

She waited but he didn’t reply, and she gradually relaxed again. She might not have come to terms with him, or anything in her life yet, but she was glad he was there.

In her head.

In her heart?

With a groan, she rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

“Coffee?”

Vadim held up the half-empty pot as Ella came out of the bathroom. She stared at him as if he were speaking Russian and briefly closed her eyes. Her blond hair was standing on end as if she’d stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. He wouldn’t put it past her. Concealing a smile, he found one of the mugs he’d just rewashed, filled it with coffee and put it on the countertop next to her.

“Do you want me to toast you a bagel?”

She clambered up onto the kitchen stool and nodded, both hands wrapped around her mug of coffee as she inhaled the rising steam. He sliced the bagel, put it in the toaster and went to the refrigerator to get the cream cheese.

“I went out for a run earlier, so I got some supplies.”

She sipped at her coffee, and her shoulders slowly came down from around her ears. It had been a stressful couple of days. “Thanks.”