He gave her a little formal bow of his head. “Of course, my lady.”
Chapter 10
Madoc wished he was anywhere else but standing beside Nika’s bed. He had no business being here, but Andra had claimed Nika had asked for him.
She’d asked and he’d practically broken the land-speed record getting back to her side.
So much for his good intentions to keep his distance. Madoc stood there, stiff and uneasy, unsure what to do now that he was here. He should never have come.
Nika barely made a lump in the bed. Her white hair had been washed and brushed until it shone, and it was fanned out around her head. She was thin, fragile, almost ethereal. Breakable. If he got too close, he was sure he’d accidentally hurt her.
Andra looked at him expectantly, like he had all the answers.
“What the fuck do you want me to do?” he asked
“I don’t know. Just sit with her and hold her hand, I guess.”
“I’m not touching her,” he told Andra.
She ground her back teeth in frustration. “Fine. Then just sit your ass down until she wakes up again.”
Oh, no. He wasn’t going to be locked into babysitting duty. He had sgath to kill. He was up to seventy-two kills so far this week. If he had anything to say about it, he’d exterminate the fuckers from the face of the planet before year’s end.
Maybe then Nika would be okay.
“I can only stay a few minutes,” said Madoc.
Andra’s jaw clenched and her mouth tightened like she didn’t want to spit out the words. “Your safety was the first thing on her mind after being unconscious for more than a week. I’d think you could be a little more caring.”
No, he couldn’t. Caring was for men with souls. His was shriveled up. Only the frigid black ring he wore kept the last leaf on his lifemark from completing its fall. That leaf hung in stasis over his ribs, frozen midfall. His lifemark was bare. His soul was as good as dead. He didn’t care about anything anymore but killing and fucking. And Nika wasn’t good for either of those.
Still, he’d made an oath as one of the Band of the Barren—the secret, invitation-only group of Theronai that kept those with bare trees like him from being discovered and sent to their deaths. He’d promised to pretend he was still one of the good guys so none of them would be discovered. If one of the Band was outed, he knew every Theronai alive would be searched for signs of treachery. The fake leaves tattooed on his lifemark wouldn’t fool anyone looking too closely. For now he had to play the part as he’d promised Iain he would. He had to act like he would have before his soul had died.
It was either that, or let them send him to the Slayers to be murdered along with all of the other brothers in the Band.
Not a fucking chance.
Madoc let out a long sigh, and eased himself onto the edge of the bed. Nika’s body shifted toward the depression in the mattress.
He tensed, worried she’d bump into him and get bruised or something. But she didn’t. She didn’t even touch him, which was for the best. At least that was what he tried to tell himself.
Andra looked at her watch. “Joseph said that three more Theronai reported back here to come see Nika. They should be here soon.”
“Fine. Let one of them play babysitter.”
Andra’s long body flopped into a chair and she covered her face with her hands. She looked tired, and Madoc had a split second of worry for her. Odd.
“I hope to God one of them is compatible with her. Tynan says it might save her, restore her sanity.”
Madoc’s stomach clenched against a punch of jealousy. He didn’t want any other Theronai near her, as stupid as that was. He wanted to be the one to save her, which was utterly ridiculous. He’d been near her for long enough to know it wasn’t going to happen.
In fact, based on the speed at which his ring was losing its color—its life—he was out of time for miracles of any kind. Even if a compatible woman walked through the door right now, it might not be soon enough. Once the colors were gone, he wouldn’t be able to bond with anyone, compatible or not. He’d be broken, a wasted shell of what he was born to be.
“What? No empty words of hope?” asked Andra. Her eyes were shut, like she was too tired to bother keeping them open.
“Hope is for people who haven’t pulled their heads out of their asses far enough to see reality,” said Madoc.
“Ah. An optimist. Lovely.” She let out a wide yawn.
Madoc snorted. “Go take a nap. I’ll stay until the others get here.”
A knock sounded on the main door of Paul and Andra’s suite. “Looks like you’re off the hook,” said Andra. “They’re here.”
She left the room and was gone longer than he’d expected. Maybe she was interviewing them or something.
Eventually, she came back with a trail of three Theronai behind her. Each one had a smear of blood on his shirt from where he’d given Nika his oath to protect her.
She looked a little green, and more than a little uneasy as she stepped aside and let the men see Nika.
Madoc knew all of them, of course. He’d been fighting by their sides on and off for several centuries. That didn’t mean he trusted them. Not around Nika. He was going to stay put until they left.
Or until one of their rings started reacting to her.
Just the idea was almost more than he could stomach. He clenched his fists and stood from the bed. He didn’t want an up-close view of the show to come.
Nika let out a small whimper, so low he wasn’t sure Andra had heard it. If so, she made no reaction.
Madoc frowned and held himself back from going to check on her. He could see the even rise and fall of her breathing from here. That was going to have to be good enough.
“Gentlemen,” said Andra. “This is my sister, Nika.”
The hopeful, reverent looks on their faces made Madoc want to pound his fists into something. How dare they look at her like that—like she was already theirs?