Page 11 of Toying with Monsters
“So, what now?” I asked, hoping I sounded a hell of a lot more casual than I felt.
“We need to extract the artifact from you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
We eyed each other, sizing one another up, and it occurred to me he was as wary of me as I was of him. But why? He was a fucking…whatever he was…and I was nobody.
I rubbed my face with both hands and sucked in a breath. “FYI, that’s the type of info that might be important to share before the job starts. I plan for things like assholes showing up to pirate my scores. I can’t plan for the possibility of artifact absorption if I don’t know the object’s capabilities.”
I stood or tried to. I swayed and fell back to the bed on my ass. “I—I need to go home and think.”
“Wrong. You have my artifact, which means you’re not going anywhere.”
I scoffed, but even that small movement winged shards of pain through my body.
“I’m not staying here. Are you going to force me?”
His smile returned, and my head hurt from meeting his eyes without flinching.
“No, I don’t have to.”
“Any why’s that?”
“Because you’ll come back, eventually.”
Now my pissedoffedness ratcheted past my pain level, and words exploded from my mouth without considering I was dealing with a rich and powerful man of unknown paranormal abilities.
Except for the magic way he makes you cream your pants… Shut up, brain. You suffered a head injury, remember?
“What the fuck does that mean? Then what? What happens if I return? Will you kill me to carve out this fucking thing?”
“That would be one way to get it,” he said with a smirk. Now, he was just toying with me, and I had my fill of bastards fucking with me tonight.
“You’re not funny.” I needed to put more space between us, but I couldn’t stand looking like I was afraid of him. I’ve been the smallest, or the least powerful, in every preternatural room I’ve ever been in. It’s been a long time since someone could make me feel nerve-wracked just by talking to me. He hadn’t even raised his voice yet.
“Lie down. Rest for now.” He sighed again, and I knew his frustration was because of me. “You can’t go anywhere until you’ve fully healed, anyway.”
“But—” I started to argue.
He held up a hand to silence me. “If you were human, you’d be dead—if not from drowning, then from the massive hit you took to the head. It’s amazing you’re still so…” He paused as his breath caught in his throat. “...still so presentable after that blow where my item sent you tumbling like a pebble in a rock polisher.”
Tumbled like a pebble in a rock polisher. Yeah, that’s about how it felt. Especially now as weariness crept back into my head, shuttering coherent thoughts.
“Presentable. Right. A girl can swoon peppered with sweet nothings like that.”
He huffed. “If I wanted you dead, you would be. And the possibility still remains. Now be quiet and do as I say.”
Shit, he’s using that magical power he has to put me to sleep again. I can see where we need to work on power-and-control issues in our budding relationship. Somehow, I don’t picture him in a therapist’s office.
“Don’t kill me to get it back,” I mumbled. The need to sleep already weighed on my eyelids. But Mr. X is right. I need to heal, and fast healing takes all my energy. I’ll have to trust his words that he won’t kill me—yet.
But I want to wake up and figure out how to get the artifact out of my chest without scooping out my beating heart with a melon baller. Yet I’m slipping fast from the realm of consciousness.
“I said that’s one way to get it.” He rose from the bed and came to my side, lifting my legs, tucking them between the satin sheets again, and adjusting my pillow. “I didn’t say that’s what I have in mind for you.”
Aside from the death threats, Mr. X acted like the perfect nurse.
