Page 2 of Death Bringer
“And you aren’t?”
“At least I’m trying to deal with it.”
“Well, good for you.”
The ferry slowed and shuddered against the pull of the tide as, engines churning, it turned clumsily toward the dock. Seagulls flew off the sea wall to encircle the craft, looking for rich pickings from the tourists.
Ella pushed past Vadim and walked over to the stairs that led to the lower deck. She stomped down them and joined the line of passengers ready to exit the boat the moment it docked. She felt rather than saw him fall in behind her.
“Goaway,Morosov.”
“I’m just getting off the ferry.”
“And then what will you do? Sit on the beach all night?”
“If I have to.”
The older woman in the line in front of Ella turned around. “Is he annoying you, dear? Do you want me to call the cops?” Her gaze drifted up to Vadim’s. “Wow, he’s really cute. Are you sure you don’t want him, because I’d take him off your hands in a second.”
“Be my guest.” Ella smiled at the woman. “He’s almost house-trained.”
“Ms. Walsh.”
There was a definite note of warning in Vadim’s tone, but when had that ever stopped her? She turned her attention to the deckhand who was opening the gate and shuffled forward with the rest of the weary commuters. The salty air hit her like a shot of tequila, and she breathed it in. After twenty-four hours stuck at the Supernatural Branch of Law Enforcement, she’d wanted to scream. Only the thought that her testimony would put on record who had been killing empaths had made her stay and endure the endless, repetitive questions from a bunch of morons who should know better.
“Agreed.”
Vadim’s voice echoed in her head. Damn, she must be tired if she couldn’t keep him out at this stage of the evening. She stumbled on the uneven deck, and he attempted to catch her elbow. She jerked away and almost fell 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 youmimickingme?”
“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.
