Bound (Secrets of the Djinn) (7 page)

Beelzebub hacks his way through another chuckle.  “Oh, it will.  There are things in this universe too grand to change, even for me.  S
kye can only fight her fate for so long before the universe closes in on her and sweeps her away to where she belongs.  Your feelings for her will be of no consequence then, human.”

A
nger radiates from Zane’s pores.  I can’t let him do something stupid.  “Break my bones if you want, dress yourself up like someone else, I don’t care what you do because nothing is going to send me running into Roman’s arms.  Wife or not, he betrayed me in our other life and I learn from my mistakes.  Leave.  Now.”  I’m not sure if it’s courage or stupidity speaking to the devil like this.

To my surprise, he does
leave.  Or so I think.  He has one more parting gesture for his amusement.  With invisible hands, he slams my head back against the headboard, nearly knocking me unconscious and most definitely giving me a concussion.  At the rate I’m getting these, my brain will soon be Jell-O.

“Skye, are you alright?” Zane asks for what feels like the hundredth time today. 

I nod my head with minimal movement.  I don’t want him to know how badly I’m hurt because despite their fight earlier, he’d probably get Roman.  Zane reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp.  His eyes scan me in the light, assessing the damage the devil caused.  When his eyes reach the headboard, he curses softly.  “Skye, you’re bleeding.  You might need stitches.”  As I suspected, he says, “I’m going to get Roman.”

As forcefully as my burning brain will let me, I say, “No!”  I grab hold of his arm.  “I don’t need Roman.”  My silent ‘I need you’ floats in the air between us.

After a long moment, Zane says, “Sit up so I can see how badly your head is hurt.”

I do as he asks and try not to wince when he starts pulling my long blonde hair away from the bleeding gash. 
The sharp intake of air Zane does tells me it’s pretty bad.  “Skye, you need to have this treated.  You need stitches.”

I shake my head and the movement almost sets my nausea free.  “I just need some bandages and tape.  It hardly even hurts.”

“Why would you even try to lie to me about something like that?” he demands. 

Shit, I hate this damn bond.  “Can’t you stitch it up?” I plead.

More annoyed than ever with me, he says, “This is your head, Skye.  You can’t fuck around with head injuries.  I’m going to get Roman.”

That makes me want to bash my head a few more times against the headboard, but the concern in his eyes is too hard to ignore.  “Fine,” I spit out.  The vilest word I have ever spoken.

Chapter
6

I’m still sulking when Zane comes back with a bruised and exhausted Roman.  “My head is fine,” I say as he approaches the bed.  “Zane is just being overly cautious.  You don’t need to stay and look at it.”

Roman
glances from me to Zane and then back to me.  “You may be right, but if Zane thought it was worth waking me up, I should at least look at it.”

I want to tell them both to go to hell.  I want to get out of this bed and keep walking until I’m a million miles away from here.  Zane’s face is unyielding as he moves to stand at the end of the bed. 
If I even try getting up and walking out, he would have something to say about it.  Showing as much disdain as possible in my addled state, I sit forward and expose my battered skull to Roman.

He studies it for a moment, poking at it and pulling my hair out of it.  I’m proud of myself that not even a hiss leaves my mouth from the extra pain he’s causing.  “Zane’s right, you need at least five stitches.”

Sounding defeated even to my own ears, I say, “Roman, please, just go.”  I use my good hand to push at him.

Roman stand
s up and says to Zane, “I can’t do anything if she doesn’t want me to.  I’m not going to force her to get stitches.”

“What’s the alternative?” Zane asks,
refusing to look at me.

Roman shrugs.  “You can bandage it and hope for the best.  I would watch her for signs of
a concussion and if her words start to slur or she seems disoriented, come and get me again.  I don’t think her skull’s fractured but there’s always the risk of blood clots and swelling.”  Zane nods tersely and Roman leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Zane crosses his arms over his chest and acid drips from his words.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Where did that idea come from?  Completely nonplussed, I ask, “What?”

“You slammed your head against the headboard so hard, you gave yourself a two inch gash.  Was
it really necessary?”

“You think I did this?”  When he doesn’t answer, I continue.  “I didn’t do this to myself.  Beelzebub did it.  He’s the one causing my injuries today, he admitted it.  Right before he left, he made himself invisible and slammed my head back.  He
keeps hurting me because he wants me to spend more time with Roman.  He thinks being around him so much will make me want him instead of you.  He’s said before he wants me to stay weakened by the mark.”

His eyes are saying he thinks I’m crazy.  His mouth, however, says, “
You believe you’re telling the truth, but the whole idea is a lot to swallow.  Are you sure you haven’t just convinced yourself it’s someone else hurting you?”

Now it’s my turn to be pissed.  Throwing back the covers, I swing my legs off the bed, mentally preparing myself for the pain in my ankle I’m going to feel when I stand up.  Discovering I can bear it, I walk shakily towards the door.

“Skye, you’re being ridiculous.” 

I ignore him and keep walking.  He doesn’t say anything else when I open the door and walk through it.  In the hall, I only make it a few more steps before I
need to stop and rest.  Leaning against the wall, I make sure there’s no pressure on my injured shoulder or my head.

Zane’s amused voice startles me.  “You got farther than I thought you would.”

Fuck him.  I start walking again.  My destination is the guest room I used before.  It’s only about a million more painful, dizzy steps away. 

Gentle pressure on my good arm stops my forward progress.  “Let go.”

It’s not a surprise when he doesn’t.  Instead, he carefully turns me around and says, “I don’t want to chase you down the hall.  I’m tired and want to go back to sleep.”

“I’m not keeping you from
going to bed.”  Was that whiny voice really mine?

Zane puts a hand under my chin and tilts my head up
, forcing me to look at him.  “I.  Love.  You.”

I can tell he has to wrench the words from his mouth.  This is not a romantic moment for either of us.  “Zane, go back to bed.  I’m going to sleep in the guest room I was in before.”

“I didn’t say it earlier because I was scared.”

What a typical male thing to say.  “Okay.”

“As soon as you said the words to me, your emotions went into instant turmoil with doubt being the most prevalent.  Admitting I’m in love with you when you’re so unsure about your feelings for me seems like a great way to get my heart broken.  Then I find you with Roman and sure, you were pushing him away, but that didn’t make me want to kill the son of a bitch any less.  Or you for that matter when your excuse was, ‘I fell out of bed’.  Just now, it damn well looked like you were throwing a fit and bashed your own head against the headboard.”  I start to say something but he holds a hand up.  “It’s a little hard to believe at first when your girlfriend tells you the devil is physically hurting her because he wants to hook her up with some other guy.  But, it’s starting to make sense.”

“Could it make sense down the hall in your room?” Brielle yawns from the doorway of her bedroom.

Leaning around Zane, I say, “I’m sorry we woke you.”

She shrugs.  “At least your conversation
is interesting.  The devil’s the cause of your klutziness, huh?”

I nod and pain shoots through my head. 
Blood trickles down my neck.  “That’s what he said.” 

“You probably shouldn’t share
this with Grams.  She’s already considering kicking your ass to the curb.  Knowing the devil is hanging around you will just speed up the process.”

Tears form in my eyes at the thought of my safety net being pulled away.  Where else would I go?  “She wants me to leave?”

“It’s not her house, Skye,” Zane says, confirming that his grandmother does want to kick me out on my ass.

It may not be her house, but there are ways she could force me to leave.  She could hand me over to the authorities who believe I’m a serial killer because the djinn were killing humans and carving my name in them.  She could shoot me.  She could force Zane and Brielle to choose between her and me
.  I would lose if she did.

Looking at Brielle, not Zane, I ask, “
Can you get the money in my bank account out without the police being able to trace it?”  My parents left me a sizable estate when they died and I’ve been using it to finance medical school.  At least, I was.

Brielle’s eyes travel back and forth between her brother and me and then come to rest on Zane.  “Um, yeah, that’s possible but I’m not going to do it.”

I already know the answer but I ask anyway.  “Why not?”

“I like all of my limbs attached to my body.”  Brielle sighs.  “Look, Skye, I know I’m an ass sometimes and I haven’t signed up to be your best friend, but I’m not saying no just
to be a bitch.  I won’t do anything to hurt my brother.  If he wants you to stay, then you stay.”

Fury burns its way up my throat.  “
Am I a prisoner again?”

Brielle’s mouth opens in an exaggerated, loud yawn.  “Wow, I’m beat.  See you guys in the morning.”  Ducking back into her room, she closes the door and throws the lock.

“You are not a prisoner,” Zane says.  “If you really want to leave, Brielle will get your money for you.”  The hurt in his voice is heart wrenching. 

I lean back against the wall again, miserable down to my bones for hurting him yet again. 
He doesn’t want me to leave regardless of what his grandmother wants.  “Is there something else I can say or do to totally fuck up our relationship?  I seem to be on a roll.”

Putting a hand behind my neck he leans down and kisses me.  He’s the one who hisses in pain this time.  His lips are cracked and bruised from his fight with Roman.  “Yes, you can continue to deny you need stitches.”

“Roman’s going to be pissed if you wake him again.”

Zane snorts.  “He would walk through a pile of blazing cockroaches for the chance to fix you up.  He’s not going to be mad about the loss of a few minutes of sleep.”

Unfortunately, he’s right.  “Do you really believe me about the devil?”

Half of his mouth quirks up into a smile.  “Yes, I do.”

I turn to hobble back to our bedroom.  Zane grabs my arm to help me but I shake my head.  “I’m the dumbass who walked out here.  I can walk myself back so you can get Roman.”

After a moment, he nods and I start back towards our bedroom.  I stop and
slowly glance back when he says my name.  “Skye, don’t tell me you love me again unless you are positive it’s true.”

I bite my lips to keep from assuring him that I really do love him.  He doesn’t want to hear it right now.  I nod my head and continue walking towards the bedroom we share for the time being. 
How long it will be before he agrees with his grandmother?  I’m too dangerous to be around no matter how much he loves me.

It takes me several
minutes, but I make it back and sit on the bed.  Roman is hesitant when he comes back into the room.  “Are you sure you want to be treated now?”

I try to sound as pleasant as possible.  “Yes, and
it would be great if you could splint my wrist.”

Reading my mind,
Zane has collected the items Roman needs for both stitching and splinting.  It takes about twenty minutes for Roman to put the five stitches in because I won’t let him shave me bald.  So, he has to work around my hair.  When he’s finished, he takes the splint from Zane and wraps my arm tightly enough to keep the bones in place without cutting off circulation.  When he’s done, he leaves the room without even a ‘good night’ being said. 

“Maybe we can finally get some sleep now,” Zane says, taking his t-shirt off and tossing it on the chair.  He still has scars from the devil torturing him, but they’re fading.  His jeans are the next to go and I can’t help admiring how beautiful his body is.  “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to take your clothes off next,” he teases.

A pleasant shiver runs down my spine at the thought.  “Okay.”

He chuckles.  “I don’t think you’re in any condition for sex.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide what condition I’m in?”

Pulling the covers back, he climbs into bed.  I’m already under the sheets but I’m still in my sports bra and shorts.  The idea of trying to pull the tight bra off is terrifying.  I’m either going to wear it until my arm heals or I’m going to
eventually cut it off.