Jennifer L. Armentrout - Stone Cold Touch

So I focused on not passing out from the moment Nicolai showed up. As soon as I got home, I’d find Zayne and...God knows what after that.

I needed KWWRP—Killing Wardens Witness Relocation Program.

Clenching my jaw hard to keep from moaning every time we hit a pothole, I felt a bit out of it by the time we reached the compound. The cut couldn’t have been that deep. At least I hoped it wasn’t, but damn if my entire left arm didn’t feel like a cold piece of meat.

I hurried inside and skidded to a stop in the foyer. Deep male voices rang out from every corner of the home it seemed. I looked into the living room, disoriented.

Jasmine stood there, her arms around a tall male Warden with thick, wavy auburn hair. He was holding their daughter, Izzy. The two-year-old was in her human form, but two dark-colored horns parted her red curls and her wings were poking out the back of her pink shirt. Drake, Izzy’s twin brother, was clambering at the male’s legs, grunting each time he jumped.

Dez was back.

Which meant Jasmine and Danika would be heading home soon since the members of their clan were back and it was no longer necessary for them to be kept here for safety reasons. Yay.

A strange look pinched his handsome features as his gaze scoured his surroundings. When his eyes landed on me, his shoulders relaxed a bit, but the odd tension on his face remained.

“Layla,” he said, smiling as he handed Izzy off to Jasmine and bent, picking up Drake, holding him close to a massive chest. “It’s good to see you.”

I blinked slowly as I dropped my bag beside the small table in the foyer. Still holding the scarf, I forced a smile. “Hey. How...how are you?”

“Good. You look...”

Voices neared and the doors to Abbot’s library swung open. As if moving through a fog, I turned. Another unfamiliar Warden stepped out, drawing to a halt when he saw me. Like the one in the alley and like Dez himself, he was young. Probably in his mid-twenties.

“What the...?” he said, reaching behind him.

Oh, for the love of God, if he pulled out a knife, I was going to give up on life in general.

“Maddox.” Dez stepped forward, clutching Drake as the toddler grabbed a handful of hair with chubby fingers. “This is Layla.”

There was a heavy layer of warning in Dez’s voice that caused Maddox to straighten as though steel had been poured down his spine. He nodded curtly and then stepped around me, giving me a wide enough berth that one would think I was carrying some kind of vicious disease.

“Have you seen Tomas?” Maddox asked, watching me from the corners of his eyes. “He went into the city. Has he come back?”

“No,” Dez said, hoisting Drake up. Behind him, Jasmine frowned as she eyed me. I was sure her “there’s a wounded bird nearby” senses were firing. She was a Hell of a healer. Something I was in desperate need of, but I needed to get out of here. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” he finished.

With a sinking feeling, I had a real bad idea about who Tomas was...or used to be. Oh dear. I started to shuffle toward the stairs, but Zayne’s deep, husky laugh drew my attention.

He was in the library with Geoff, our resident techie and gadget gargoyle, and his father. Some of our other clansmen were there. Abbot sat behind the desk, rolling a cigar between his fingers. It was unlit. He never smoked them, just seemed to like handling them.

Zayne was standing with his back to the door, next to a beautiful dark-haired female Warden—the kind of beauty that made me feel blah on a good day. Danika was leaning into him and smiling as one of the clansmen told a story.

I didn’t know what kind of story. I was never included in the tales. And the only times I’d been in Abbot’s library recently were when I was getting lectured about one thing or another.

My feet felt funny as I stood in the hallway. “Zayne?” My voice also sounded weird. The handkerchief seemed wetter.

Turning around, the smile on Zayne’s face froze. “Layla?”

I knew I probably looked like death chewed up and spit back out. I nervously glanced at Danika, not daring to look at Abbot. “C-can I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

“Yeah. Hold on just a sec.” He twisted back to Danika and then his father, who was most likely giving him that look. The look that said don’t you dare walk away from Danika, your future baby mama. “I’ll be back.”

She nodded, nibbling on her lip. “It’s okay. Are you?”

That question was directed at me, and I think I said something in the affirmative. I hobbled past where Dez and the new guy stood with Jasmine, not waiting on Zayne. If I didn’t sit down, I was going to fall down.

With my good hand, I clenched the banister as I started up the stairs. Zayne was right beside me, head bent low as he spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Uh...” A few more steps. A few more steps. “Not really.”

Moving closer to me, he sucked in a breath. “I smell blood. You’re bleeding.”

“Kind of,” I squeaked. As he started to turn back around, no doubt to sound the alarm, I said, “Don’t say anything yet. Please.”

“But—”

“Please.”

Zayne swore under his breath, but kept coming up the steps. “How bad?”

“Uh...”

We rounded the second landing, and once we were out of sight, Zayne bent and gathered me up in his arms. Any other time, I would’ve pitched a fit, but the whole “bleeding and being in pain” thing kept me quiet.

“I need a little detail,” he said, heading straight for his room—not mine— his. I was a little distracted by that as he shuffled me against his chest and opened the door. “Talk to me, Layla. I’m starting to freak out.”

When he toed the door shut behind him, I forced my tongue to work. “I think I might’ve been stabbed.”

“You think?” he shouted.

I flinched. “Okay. I was.”

“Jesus.” He sat me down on the edge of his bed. Over his shoulders, the wall-to-wall bookcase was overflowing with books. “Where? Where is it?” But he was already searching with his eyes and hands. When he reached my upper arm, I yelped. “Shit.” He pulled back his hand and his fingers were smeared in red. “Why didn’t you tell Nicolai?”

“It’s not that bad, right?” I looked down, but the black material hid the damage.

Zayne took the soaked scarf from me and dropped it on the wood floor. “I don’t know. I need to take your top off.”

I raised my brows at that.

He shot me a bland look as he brushed his hair back with his forearm. “And you need to tell me how this happened.”

“I was near Dupont Circle and—do you really need to take my top off?” I asked as he reached for the hem of my sweater.

Zayne looked up, his blue eyes bright with determination and his normally golden skin a shade or two paler. “Yes. It’s in the way.”

“But—”

“I saw you in your bra just yesterday. Remember?” When he pointed that out, it wasn’t as though my argument for modesty was valid. “You were around Dupont?”

I nodded, swallowing hard as he lifted my sweater. “I was out trying to spot a demon. You know, to figure out if I could see anything different around them.”

“Dammit, Layla, you could’ve asked me. I would’ve gone with you.”

The sweater being tugged over my head and off my good arm hid the face I’d made. “I wasn’t going to engage the demon.”

“Yeah, that’s a moot point when a demon obviously engaged you.” He didn’t even check out my lacy pink bra as he gently eased the sweater down my left arm.

I sucked in a breath when he reached the wound.

“Sorry,” he grunted.

“A demon didn’t engage me.” The wound was angry looking and bloody, and I forced myself to look away, focusing on Zayne’s bowed head. “I’m not even sure I saw one.”