Page 76 of White Hot Kiss
Besides Morris, who’d squeezed me to death when I got out of Zayne’s car, Nicolai was the first to break ranks. With a genuine smile of relief, he hugged me. “I’m glad you made it back to us.”
I believed him. Even Geoff looked relieved, along with Abbot. The rest...eh, not so much. Then again, I wasn’t really close to the others. We were like ships passing in the night.
Zayne had been right about his father wanting to question me. Most of what happened came from Zayne, but Abbot wanted to hear the details of the demon intervention from me. Lying to Zayne made my skin feel itchy and wrong, but with Abbot, it made my paranoia hit an all-new high. Luckily, it was just the three of us, so it didn’t completely feel like an inquisition.
“And you’ve never seen this demon before?” Abbot asked. Sitting next to me on the couch, he didn’t look convinced as he stroked his beard.
I decided to throw a little more of the truth out there. Parts that couldn’t hurt. “The demon didn’t look normal.”
Zayne’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“He sort of looked like the Wardens.” I really hoped there was some OJ in the fridge.
“An Upper Level demon,” Zayne said, looking at his father.
“So maybe I have seen him before, but not in that form.”
Abbot stared at me for several long moments. “Why don’t you head upstairs. I’ll send Jasmine up to take a look at you, make sure everything is okay.”
Sweet relief shot through me even though I knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation. I was free for the time being. “I’m sorry for any trouble this—”
“Stop apologizing,” Zayne said, eyes flaring that deep teal blue again. “None of this is your fault.”
Abbot placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. He wasn’t a hugging type of guy, so it was the closest thing to an embrace I’d ever get. Emotion clogged my throat, a vile mixture of guilt, anger and betrayal. I was lying, but so was Abbot. Looking at him now, my gaze crawling over his weathered-but-handsome face, I had to wonder if he’d ever been honest with me.
And what he had to gain by keeping the child of Lilith alive.
“I’m sorry that we allowed Petr into this house,” Abbot said as I stood, his pale eyes sharp. “This home is a safe haven, and he breached that.”
“And his clan,” Zayne added, voice rough with anger. “It’s awfully convenient that they bolted the moment they realized Layla was alive.”
“It is.” Abbot stood, too. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
I nodded and turned to leave, doubting that Elijah would suffer any extreme consequences if he or any of his clan were in on the plan to snuff me out. I knew they had to be, because while Petr loathed my very existence, he wouldn’t have gone after me without his father’s support.
“Layla,” Abbot called out, and I stopped at the door. “Just one last thing.”
My stomach tumbled. “Okay.”
Abbot smiled tightly. “Where did you get the clothes you’re wearing?”
Hours later, my stomach still churned. Between the sickness that brewed after tasting a soul and the fact that I knew I was so busted, I didn’t venture far from the bathroom.
The clothing—holy crap—how could I have forgotten that? How could Roth not have caught that? The too-big sweatpants and the shirt with some ’80s hair band emblazed across the front were so obviously not mine.
And what had I told Abbot? That they were old gym clothes I had in my backpack? What kind of lame-o lie was that? Why would I have men’s clothing in my book bag, and why would I’ve changed into the clothes, but left my bag in the tree house?
I wanted to smack myself.
Hopefully, Abbot chalked it up to me being traumatized, but I doubted it. He wasn’t stupid. The way he’d smiled and the knowing gleam in his eyes told me he knew better. So why didn’t he call me out? Waiting for him to do so was worse.
Ten minutes later, I was gripping the sides of the toilet and emptying out what Jasmine had managed to get me to eat after checking me over. “Jesus,” I gasped as another cramp rolled through me. Dry heaves racked my body until my eyes watered.
Then the soul came up.
Slicing its way up my throat, it dug in with tiny hooks, refusing to let go. My stomach clenched, doubling me over. Finally, white smoke expelled from my mouth. As the last of Petr’s soul left my body, I shuddered, collapsing against the bathroom wall.
Petr’s soul floated in the air above me, a sad and twisted thing. Like a dark cloud before a violent storm, it swirled and churned. I could see neatly stacked yellow towels behind it, the little baskets I kept my makeup in. The soul’s mere presence tainted the walls.