Katie's Hellion (Rhyn Trilogy, Book One) (25 page)

The sound of her sister’s voice made her
throat tighten. She’d never been truly happy to talk to her.

"Heya, Hannah."

"Toby said you’ve been under the weather.
You’re interested in coming to see me for a few days?"

Katie glared at Toby at the skeptical note in
Hannah’s voice.

"Gabriel said --" Toby started.

"I would," Katie replied. "Been having a
rough time on my…medications or whatever."

"Oh, I understand. Will Toby come?"

"No, he’ll be with a friend," Katie
replied.

"I’ll send a car to get you!"

"Thanks. You spending the weekend with
your…friends?"

"Don’t start, Katherine. I know you don’t
like them. "

"Hate them, actually."

"You’ll get used to them. Maybe one day
they’ll rub off on you, help you get a decent man."

Katie touched her throat.
Decent
wasn’t the word she’d ever use for Rhyn. Her sister would have a
heart attack once she saw the tattoo and found out she’d basically
married the type of man Hannah’d always warned her about.

"Will you be ready in an hour?" Hannah
asked.

"Sure."

"See you soon!"

Katie clicked the phone off and looked at the
five-year-old doing wind sprints across her apartment. She waited
for him to finish before crossing to her room to change. The effort
of a shower left her even more exhausted. She dressed comfortably
and packed her overnight bag, then searched the room, certain she
was forgetting something.

"He’s not in the closet," Toby said, then
laughed.

She rolled her eyes at him and snatched her
stuff before leaving her apartment for the sidewalk in front of her
building. She waited in the cold winter day until the familiar
Lincoln Town Car arrived. She dozed in the car during the
forty-five-minute drive into northern Virginia, where her sister’s
fiancé owned a mansion secreted behind towering shrubbery and a
gate that swung open to welcome her.

Her sister waited in the reception room,
sipping tea and flipping through a magazine. She looked as healthy
as Katie didn’t feel. Hannah looked up as the butler let her in,
her smile turning to a frown.

"You look ghastly," she said. "How long have
you been…"

Too late, Katie realized she’d not thought to
wear a scarf. Hannah’s eyes widened, and she rose, angling her past
the butler and a maid dusting a painting to the second floor. She
closed the door behind them in the massive bedchamber that was hers
and whirled.

"You know how trashy tattoos make women look?
Why on earth…Gio will be so angry!"

"I don’t care what your man thinks," Katie
replied, agitated already. "I had it done in Ireland. It’s some
sort of Celtic…thing."

"What’s a
rhyn
?"

"I’m not having a good turn, sis. Can we
please just…do something?"

"The girls and I are going to brunch."

Katie didn’t bother hiding her grimace.
Hannah rolled her eyes and looked her over. Her gaze lingered on
Katie’s face, which Katie knew was pale. It was this that saved her
from some snide comment about her less-than-fashionable clothes.
Hannah gathered her things and led her down to a warm, waiting car.
Katie pretended to listen as Hannah discussed the Paris fashion
show she’d attended and the month in Monte Carlo she’d spend in
January to escape the coldest weather.

Katie watched the world go by as they drove,
half-listening to Hannah’s chatter. The grey skies of winter and
grey cement of the city depressed her. This place had nothing to
the castle in the Alps, though she never wanted to go back.

In fact, the normal world --while comforting
--seemed a bit boring after her trauma. She relaxed and sank into
the soft leather seats of the Town Car, telling herself she was
being granted a chance to be normal. She didn’t doubt that the only
creature Rhyn would listen to was Gabriel, and that Gabriel had
told him to leave her be. She was grateful.

Sorta. Part of her ached with loneliness even
her sister’s presence did nothing to help.

They reached the trendy teahouse in the
wealthy section of DC, Hannah still talking about Paris fashions.
Katie trailed her into the stately Georgian mansion and glanced
down as the polished wood beneath her feet creaked. A butler took
her coat. She forced herself not to cover her tattoo with her hands
as she followed her sister to the second floor, where the private
rooms were.

Hannah warmly greeted her friends, four
coiffed women in expensive clothing with diamonds the size of her
thumbnail on their ring fingers. Most wore trendy boots and coats,
sat in designer jeans and sweaters worth a month of her salary, and
wore make-up that coordinated perfectly with their expensive
clothing and hair.

She felt frumpy the moment she stepped into
the room. The women --even if not beautiful --were dressed
beautifully.

"I think you all remember my sister,
Katherine?" Hannah said, fully knowing they did. "She just returned
from a trip to Ireland, where she got her tribal tattoo. She’s a
bit jet-lagged though."

Katie bit her tongue. Hannah was apologizing
for her pale features and dark-rimmed eyes. The four women looked
at her, one gasping as her gaze fell to the tattoo and another
paling, while the other two looked down their noses at her.

As usual. She’d shocked them all. Hannah sat
and began talking about Paris again to an audience eager to hear
her.

Except for the one who’d gasped, Molly, the
half-Asian, half-Italian with beautiful coffee eyes and olive skin.
She was tall and willowy, a former model that’d made it big. Her
gaze stayed on Katie’s neck until one of the others addressed
her.

Katie wondered if she’d shocked her that
badly or if there was some other reason Molly was so surprised. She
knew very little of Hannah’s friends, except they were all richer
than sin.

"What took you to Ireland this time of
year?"

It took her a moment to realize one of them
had addressed
her.
It wasn’t normal for them to acknowledge
her existence, let alone address her.

"Sightseeing," she managed, unable to think
of any other excuse.

Molly appeared skeptical while the others
exchanged knowing looks with each other.
Another wild adventure
by the black sheep of a sister that was dear Hannah’s
. She’d
heard them say it.

"It’s an interesting tattoo," another said
with forced interest. "What does Rhyn mean in Gaelic?"

"Nothing, I don’t think," she responded.

"Is it Old French or English?" another
asked.

She glanced at her sister, who seemed
interested as well.

"No," she said.

"What is it?" Hannah pushed.

"It’s a name," Molly said.

Katie met her gaze. Amusement was deep in
Molly’s gaze, though she made no effort to come to her rescue.

"Oooooh, you had some sort of fling over
there, didn’t you?" one asked, interested for the first time.

"Not exactly."

Katie sipped her tea, hot from head to toe.
Sensing some sort of lurid story, all five of them waited for her
to speak.

"I actually got married while there." She
forced the words out.

"No!" Hannah exclaimed.

All four women gasped in unison. At the end
of her patience, she rose.

"Going to the little girl’s room."

And she marched off, chest tight.

It was not the relaxing day she’d hoped for.
She sat on a couch inside the gold lacquered bathroom, rubbing her
face. She ignored the door opening until someone spoke to her.

"You’re that new, aren’t you?"

She looked up at Molly’s voice. The svelte
model wore towering boots and a one-piece cat suit that left
nothing to the imagination. Molly rolled one legging up to display
a tattoo similar to the tattoo around Katie’s neck. It read
Fendril
, apparently the name of Molly’s mate. She replaced
the legging and perched delicately on the loveseat beside Katie.
Molly dug through her purse to retrieved a familiar brownish cube,
like the ones Katie’d eaten to stay alive in Hell.

Shocked, Katie hesitated and then took it,
the sugary taste soothing her headache as she swallowed.

"Your Ancient drew too much too fast," Molly
said. "He needs to learn some control. It’s worse than a
hangover."

"He’s always gentle," Katie replied. "For
whatever reason, people like to attack me."

"Oh. Have another." Molly offered her a food
and water cube, both of which lessened the pain throbbing through
her.

"The first Ancient to take a mate," Molly
said with both awe and disappointment in her tone. "Rhyn? Isn’t he
in Hell for trying to wipe out mankind?"

Katie sighed.

"I didn’t have much of a choice, either,"
Molly admitted. "I’m among the youngest of the immortals’ mates,
only a hundred years old. They allow us to lead as normal of a life
as possible. You’ll find your mate will move around a lot, but you
can still make friends wherever you go, and immortals’ mates are an
amazing group. It’s an incredible life! You must be thrilled."

"No."

"Well, it does take some getting used to.
It’s an honor to be among the first to welcome you officially to
the family."

Katie glanced up, surprised to see Molly was
genuinely smiling. The beautiful woman pulled a card from her small
purse and handed it to her.

"You’re always welcome to call me, and I hope
you think of me when you’re prepping for the Spring Gala."

Molly rose and left. Katie watched her go,
feeling better with the otherworldly sustenance in her system. She
composed herself and psyched herself up for a day of shopping,
awkward questions about Rhyn, and flaky friends.

Hours later, she dropped onto the plush guest
bed, clad in a T-shirt and underwear after a hot shower. She was
barely on her feet and debated whether or not she’d get up to turn
off the light or fall asleep right there.

A touch of coldness made the hair on the back
of her neck rise, and she sat up, fearful Kris or Sasha had come
for her. Rhyn emerged from the shadows near the window, dressed in
black with his hair tied back. His eyes flashed silver, his rugged
features covered in a few days’ growth.

Fear flashed through her at the memory of
what someone his size could do to her. And then she relaxed. Rhyn
was the only man who’d never hurt her.

"You look worse than usual," he observed.

She flushed and pulled her T-shirt over her
bare legs, resting her chin on her knees.

"How’s the war?" she asked as he neared.

He growled deep in his chest, a warning for
her. He sat beside her and reached for her, his gaze on the newest
scars given to her by Kris. Despite her determination not to, she
flinched as he gripped her neck.

"Who hurt you?" he growled.

"No, Rhyn."

"You will tell me."

"No."

His eyes flashed. She waited for him to
explode. Instead, his hand dropped to her shoulder, and he pulled
her against him. Her body sang in happiness at the closeness, and
she felt herself relax. She breathed his scent and released her
knees, wrapping her arms around him.

Embarrassed, she felt tears in her eyes. He
pulled her into his lap, his possessive touch and warmth soothing
her.

"You will tell me," he said.

"Nope."

"You’re not supposed to leave without
permission."

"I wasn’t going to bleed to death on the
floor, and you weren’t around," she snapped.

"You know how to call me."

"It’s no big deal."

"I don’t know what the fuck you’re smoking,"
he said.

She gripped him harder. He reciprocated.

"You’re not one to talk about not breaking
sacred rules," she pointed out.

"No one hurts what’s mine."

"Everything hurts what’s yours!" she retorted
with feeling. "I’m not going to survive your world for long,
Rhyn!"

He said nothing. He smoothed her hair and
rested his chin on her head. She loosened her grip on him, sensing
he wasn’t going to leave, whatever his mood was. Her eyes were
heavy, her anger draining her last bit of energy.

When she opened her eyes, he held her tightly
against him. They lay in bed beneath the covers in the dark room.
She couldn’t help but feel grateful he was there; she didn’t want
to know what other creatures lived in the darkness of her
world.

"Why wouldn’t you just tell Kris the woman he
loved was evil?"

He growled.

"Don’t you dare!" she snapped. "You owe me
some explanations. Every time I turn around, I’m getting my ass
kicked by some beast, many of which are probably after you!"

"I like you better when you’re quiet."

She gritted her teeth, unwilling to leave the
sanctuary of his arms and cursing herself for her weakness.

"I broke the Immortal Code."

His words surprised her. She twisted, trying
to see him in the dark. His eyes glowed pewter.

"You don’t follow rules, though," she said,
confused.

"I respect the Code. Doesn’t mean I always
have to follow it."

"That makes no sense. You break the Code when
you feel like it?"

"When I must."

She pushed herself up despite his grip,
staring at him hard. Despite his monstrous habits of shredding
anything in his path, he had a sense of honor more deeply ingrained
than she’d ever suspected. He’d broken the Code for a brother who’d
never cared one ounce for him and accepted his place in Hell.

"Isn’t there anything in the Code about your
mate?"

"I’ve never had anything to take care of," he
snarled. "You’re weak and foolish and Gods, if I could find a magic
pill that’d knock some sense into you --"

"I have a great deal of sense! What you fail
to realize is that --whatever I am --I draw good and evil to me.
Nothing corrupts someone like the temptation of invincibility."