Page 13 of Angel's Conquest
Holy mother, she was naked beneath that gown! Just who had changed her into this? And where were her clothes? Oh God, the relic!
Clara pushed through her throbbing temples and tried to extricate herself from the linens. By the time her bare feet hit the cold floor, the door to her room swung open.
As before, Bronze was the first one to greet her, followed by Rhode and another female in a white coat who had blonde hair that seemed almost as long as hers, though the braid made it difficult to discern in the low light. Damn, where the heck were her clothes? Was she really to meet a stranger—another woman of the same class as these guardians, no less—wearing what amounted to little more than a sheet? Her wolf’s low rumble echoed her worry.
Then she remembered that these were not humans.
Bronze stepped forward, his presence every bit as commanding despite the jovial nature she’d caught glimpses of here and there. She didn’t quite know how she knew it, but his casual manner, especially how he’d acted with her, suggested an innate comfort with more lighthearted tactics. Oh, yes, he was no stranger to laughter. Quite often, too, if the smile lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes were any indication. The prospect certainly made her original proposal to him more appealing.
If a male made room for joy in his life, then, surely, there was less room for the darker urges of cruelty.
Clara let some of the anxiety ease from her body. Yes, I was right. He will do. He has to.
“Glad to see you’re awake,” Bronze said. “How are you feeling?”
“I have a bit of a headache, but I am otherwise myself.”
The blonde female stepped forward and checked the remnants of a clear plastic bag that hung from a metal pole near Clara’s bed. “If you didn’t have a headache, I’d say you weren’t human. That head injury must have been ugly when it happened, especially after being pulled out of the river.”
A heavy weight of anticipation filled the room, and Bronze looked at Clara with an almost rapt sort of hunger, as if he was on the verge of uncovering a secret but was being forced to quell his suspicions. Oh, he doesn’t like that one bit.
The female, seemingly unconcerned, continued, “The gash on your forehead healed up nicely, and this IV bag is good and empty. Perfect. Fluids are definitely your friend. You’re looking much better.”
“Fluids?”
“Yeah, in your arm. I have to say, I don’t know many people who can suck down saline so quickly and bounce back after only a few hours. Most humans would take twenty-four hours, at least. I’m Drea, by the way. I was the one who got you all cleaned up.”
The female had gone and said that word again. Humans.
Wait . . .
Clara tracked the clear tube that extended from the metal pole straight into?—
“Oh my God, get it out! Get it out now!” Clara’s wolf snarled as she clawed at the plastic tubing that was fastened into the crook of her elbow and extended inside her.
“Whoa! Easy! Hang on, I’ll get the IV out, just sit tight for a moment.” Drea quickly plucked the plastic out of her, and Clara shivered at the foreign matter’s removal.
“What did you put inside me? And where are my clothes?”
“Here. All your effects are in this bag.” Rhode placed her belongings at the edge of her bed where her feet had been, making sure she knew he was careful not to touch her. Again, she cursed her skittish ways and wished that particular flaw wasn’t so obvious in her demeanor. “You were severely dehydrated when you arrived,” he added. “We had to administer fluids intravenously. That is all we did, I swear. Now, we’ll leave the room while you get dressed. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
“And we do as well,” Bronze tacked on pointedly, though still with a kind understanding. “Back in five.”
Once the door closed and Clara was again alone with her thoughts, her wolf managed to calm down also.
Deep breaths. You can do this. You made the decision, and now you must follow through with the plan.
A few minutes later, dressed in her own clothes and with the relic safely tucked against her chest, she heard a soft rap at the door. Wow. Five minutes exactly. “You may enter.”
Bronze, again, was the first to push through the door, followed by Rhode. The female—Drea, was it?—was noticeably absent. It was also obvious that whatever unassuming hospitality these males had extended toward her had quickly come to an end. Her hosts’ rigid stances and stiff shoulders set the tone for how the line of questioning would go. They would ask the questions, and she would be expected to answer them. Business had clearly replaced altruism.
Right, then. If that’s the case, it’s best to cut them off at the pass. You have your own business here as well.
She wiped her palms on her leather trousers and cringed when a shiny streak of sweat winked back at her. Wonderful. “My name is Clara,” she said clearly, with her chin raised so she might address each of them equally. “Clara Ander. I?—”
“Nice to meet you, Clara Ander.” Bronze pegged her with a smirk that belied his tough appearance. Folded arms and a tense frame or no, he still attempted to put her at some modicum of ease. “Officially, that is.”
Not knowing what to make of that, she returned his greeting with a small nod. “I?—”