Iridescent (Ember 2) (26 page)

“Hang on, Lofi,” Sebastian butted in, his tone laced with finality.

Betrayal sliced through Candra again. He didn’t care at all. He didn’t want to fight for her or even try to make amends. He couldn’t, but it would have been a comforting gesture if he’d at least tried to.

“I can’t believe you,” she told Lofi and then held her hand out to Sebastian. Her stomach twisted violently, and she worried that if she didn’t get out of there soon, she may well vomit. “Keys.”

“Huh?”

“Keys, Sebastian. Give me the damned keys. I have to get out of here.”

Chapter Twenty

H
APPILY
-E
VER
-A
FTER
D
IDN’T
E
XIST
; Candra knew this. She had learned it as a grieving child long ago, crying into the lap of her new stepmother. Happy-for-now was all anyone had to hang onto. Life was nothing but a series of moments, and all that lay ahead was a blank slate, a book with empty pages. Fairytales ended all the time in the real world. Maybe the bank foreclosed on the castle or the prince developed a gambling problem. Where were the books telling little girls that the prince may become complacent about their relationship, or the princess might end up spending her days in bed, alone with a tub of ice cream?

Candra lay very still and wide-awake the entire night, watching as the light from the window moved across the strange room. Shadows shifted over surfaces and stirred the darkness. It seemed as if time was a ghost haunting her, refusing to allow her to hide from what had happened by the lake. By the time hazy sun sliced across the end of the bed covers, Candra gave up trying. Lack of answers didn’t help. She needed some kind of reassurance that no one could give her—reassurance that everything would work out.

What if these grand plans Sebastian and Draven imagined the Arch had for her were just that…imagined? What if there were no plans, and just like Sebastian had once said, they were all just walking around with their heads up their asses and bumping into each other, looking for meaning in their life? Everybody she knew seemed to be waiting on tenterhooks for some grand design to make itself known. Surely no Arch meant no plan? A broken heart seemed unimportant in the bigger picture, if they were really on their own. So why did it still hurt so badly?

Candra turned over, groping for the source of the noise so obnoxiously disturbing the sleep that eluded her until after sunrise. Her mind still whirled with images of flames, shattered glass, and the scent of freshly mown grass. Her hand slapped down repeatedly, but instead of landing on her bedside table, her palm hit soft cotton—expensive, smooth cotton. When the sound came again, she blearily opened her eyes, and the memory of the previous night came back to her as painfully as a kick in the gut.

She wasn’t in her own bed, and by the blade-thin light streaming through the crack in the full length drapes, she guessed it was already mid-morning. Between a head congested from crying and stinging eyes, it took a moment to assess her surroundings. Candra scooted up to find herself dwarfed in an enormous dark wood four-poster bed, propped up on dozens of marshmallow-soft pillows, and covered in a rich, dark red brocade bedspread. Beyond that, the rest of the huge darkened room was no less elaborate. It was filled with ornate and sumptuous furnishings, from the chaise lounge near the carved marble hearth to the wood of the gleaming armoire. The entire room was classic opulence—Draven’s home.

The knocking that had woken her started again, more insistent this time.

“Yes?”
Ouch
, she thought to herself, rubbing at the base of her throat in a futile attempt to ease the rawness.

“Can I come in?” Draven called from the hallway. Even through the thick paneled mahogany of the door, she heard the anxiety in his tone.

Candra groaned, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes as she recalled going home and feeling suffocated by Sebastian’s absence. Strange, how the absence of a person could be almost as suffocating as their presence. She’d driven the borrowed car around for several hours and had found herself at the entrance to the underground parking garage, crying and babbling incoherently into an intercom when the full impact of Sebastian’s betrayal had hit her. She cringed into her pillow at the vague, fuzzy recollection of being carried through the hallways, refusing to let Draven call Sebastian to come get her, and then finally…
damn
, she couldn’t remember finally. Candra decided, much to her mortification, that she must have fallen asleep and been put to bed by Draven.

“Please,” she called again, checking to see if she had been undressed. Heat radiated over her chest and bloomed across her cheeks. The T-shirt that would probably have covered the tops of her thighs had ridden up to her waist under the covers.

Candra squinted as golden light flooded the room from the hallway. At first, she could only make out Draven’s outline carrying something large and flat. Her hand flew up on instinct to shield her eyes.

“Sorry,” Draven murmured contritely and pushed the door closed with the sole of his bare foot.

Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized the large flat object was a breakfast tray. He carefully placed it at the end of the bed, so far away she could have stretched out fully, and still, her feet wouldn’t disturb it. Whatever lay under the domed silver covering the plate smelled divine, and her empty stomach growled. Without saying a word, Draven came toward her and held out both his hands. In one, he held a tall frosty glass of water, and in the other, two small white pills.

Candra’s heart constricted, and she swallowed thickly. Draven’s thoughtfulness inadvertently reminded her how Sebastian had fed her water and painkillers the morning after Ivy had been murdered. Both of them could have taken her pain away using a curleax, but they recognized that sometimes, Candra felt the need to wallow in her humanity.

“Thank you,” she croaked out, taking them from him.

Draven nodded with a sympathetic smile and motioned with his eyes to a glass lamp on a side table. Candra nodded and popped the two pills in her mouth, following them with a half glass of iced water. It was just what she’d needed to clear the fuzz from her tongue, but she knew the rest of her would take a lot more.

The fringed drapes tied around each post at the corners of the bed concealed the lamp light a little and blocked some of it from hitting her directly in the face.

“I’m guessing you aren’t ready to face the day yet,” he said, returning to the tray. Draven was dressed in his usual jeans and shirt, and his hair gleamed like wet glass. It threw her back in time to the first day she’d witnessed Draven unfurl his wings in the great ballroom of the same building. She’d been mildly intimidated by the expanse of jet black feathers that rolled over his back like a glistening oil slick from a blue-black mist. Staggeringly beautiful and immensely powerful, that time it had been in reaction to Sebastian’s attack, and her intimidation had quickly turned to irritation at them for fighting over her.

All Watchers were striking, but there was always something exceptional about Sebastian and Draven that set them apart in her eyes. If she took Lilith’s word, they were intricately bound to each other and her because of their past and their position among the Watchers. With horror, it dawned on her that Sebastian still numbered among her protectors, and it would be a matter of time before she had to face him again. Her eyes flickered away when she noticed Draven’s lips curve into a smile, and she realized she was staring.

“It’s okay. I really don’t mind,” he told her as he laid a starched linen napkin across her lap and handed her a fork.

Candra blushed yet again and gazed at the fork twisting in her fingers as if it were some alien object that she had no idea what to do with. They still hadn’t discussed what she was doing in one of his guestrooms or why she had landed on his doorstep, crying her eyes out late at night.

He took the glass of water and placed the tray up on her lap before sitting on the edge of the bed. Candra’s stomach continued to churn a little. Draven lifted the polished silver dome and leaned down to the floor, coming up empty-handed. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for food yet, even though it did look good—crispy bacon and fluffy scrambled egg whites with toasted wholemeal triangles on a rack. The aroma of fresh coffee wafted from the small matching silver pot on the tray. Her mouth watered, and her tongue involuntarily peeked out to run across her lips.

“You called him, didn’t you?” she accused, keeping her eyes on the tray.

“No, I didn’t call anyone. Now, eat up before it gets cold.”

When she didn’t, Draven took the fork from her hand, scooped up some of the scrambled eggs, and held it to Candra’s lips. She stared back at him blankly until he arched a brow in a silent challenge. He intended to feed her if she didn’t feed herself.

Any other time, Candra’s first reaction would have been to grab the fork out of his hand and berate him for treating her like a child, but this time, she didn’t. She was drained and too emotionally raw to fight Draven off. She reasoned with herself that he was the one she had run to in her hour of distress. On some subconscious level, she wanted him to look after her. She’d sought out his comfort, so why should she turn it down now? Candra opened her mouth and allowed Draven to feed her, ignoring the glint of confusion in his eyes. Clearly, he’d expected her to fight.

“Now you decide you give in,” he said off-handedly when she took the final piece of egg from the fork and chewed carefully. His shoulders shook in disbelief before he picked the tray up and brought it over to the door.

Without him ever having to speak a word, the door opened, and a burly Watcher Draven had introduced as Nathaniel took it from him. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard liquid swirling around a cup, and the aroma of coffee grew more intense. Draven excused Nathaniel with a nod of his head and closed the door quietly, turning back to Candra.

“Do people always do what you tell them to?” She still found the whole hierarchy among Watchers hard to stomach, the way they seemed subservient to ones who’d ranked above them a millennia ago.

Draven grinned, clearly amused by her question. “I would think, given the asker of the question, the answer would be self-evident. I have never met a more contentious being in my entire existence. Even Sebastian’s obstinacy pales in comparison to—”

His words abruptly cut off in the same instant Candra felt her expression morph from curious to miserable. Her face drew down in a scowl, and her gaze lowered to see the detailed embroidery on the bedspread blur. Her fingers curled into a fist, stabbing her nails into her palms. She heard the shuffling of feet and a quiet clang of china on wood. Then Draven’s hand came into view, cupping hers. His other hand threaded up into her hair, pushing it away from her face to encourage her to look at him.

“Okay, I admit. I lied a little, but I didn’t call Sebastian. I know I said I wouldn’t lie again, and I have. There’s no need to cry.”

Candra almost smiled at his bereft tone. She would have if it wasn’t for the fact he’d admitted to lying. She was such a hypocrite, wanting the truth from others while guarding her secrets.

“I called Brie to tell her you are here. She took some convincing to let you stay. That woman is scary.”

Candra did manage a smile at his observation and wiped her damp eyes. When she lifted her face, Draven’s stare fixed on her. Three thin lines had formed across his forehead, and his shoulders were rigid with worry. He smiled his full, blinding Hollywood smile. He tried to break the tension by saying Brie was scary. Nothing scared Draven. It crossed her mind more than once that this was the reason he had never taken a mate: no one to lose meant never having to be scared of losing them.

“I’m sorry,” Candra began, her voice cracking on the words. She paused and took a deep breath before she continued. “I didn’t mean to show up on your doorstep. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“You could have gone home,” he suggested kindly. “Brie really was worried. She said she thought you were with Sebastian.”

Candra forced herself not to look away. She chewed the inside of her cheek, noticing the ragged flesh had seen more attention than usual lately. She still held out hope she wouldn’t need to say the words aloud. She didn’t know if she could.

Draven’s eyes brightened in understanding and shimmered with gold when they caught the light from the lamp as he shook his head. “So this is Sebastian’s doing. I thought it was strange he didn’t show up ranting, but then I received word he was drowning himself in liquor at some sleazy bar on the lower east side of the city.”

Candra remained unmoving except for her fingers clenching to the point of hurting. “Was he alone?” Her voice came out barely above a whisper, with no conviction. Her heart pulsed rapidly inside her straining ribcage, so hard the vibrations flowed throughout her. Her traitorous body shivered despite her efforts to hold steady.

Draven pulled one hand away from her hands, and his fingers went straight to the back of his neck, massaging out an apparent knot. His nostrils flared almost unnoticeably. Someone else may not have seen it, but Candra did. She watched for any movement that might give away the answer Draven wasn’t voicing. His guarded expression appeared neutral, while his thumb continued to run in soothing circles over the back of her hand.