Page 61 of Burn of Obsidian

“You can’t come in,” she said after a while. “Guys aren’t allowed to sleep over. Ever. It’s a rule.”

Jax drove carefully, leg weakening. “I don’t sleep.”

“That’s impossible; everyone sleeps,” she muttered.

Looking over, he found her slumped against the door. “I haven’t slept in over a week.”

Her frown was cute, her nose wrinkly dramatically.

“I rest,” he explained. “I meditate, but I can’t fall asleep.” It was something he’d suffered for as long as he could remember, only finding true sleep when shifted. It was one of the reasons he allowed his beast more control than his brothers, their relationship codependent.

“So you don’t dream?” she said. “How sad for you.”

When he closed his eyes, he saw her, and that was better than any dream his mind could come up with.

Blood fragranced the air, both hers and his. Realising his leg wouldn’t allow him to drive for much longer, he changed direction and pulled into the carpark at the Conservatory Hotel.

It was part of a chain, a neutral ground created by the owners of the Troll market. Once inside, there were strict rules, and if not followed, one risked a violation against the notorious and anonymous Faerie Boys. Not many people wanted to be blacklisted, especially considering the Faerie Boys owned a chunk of the Undercity while still remaining impartial to the politics. They didn’t give a shit who you were, as long as you followed their rules and paid for their services.

He’d have preferred to take her back to his, where his brothers could watch out for her while he healed, but the hotel was the next best option.

Thea’s eyes marked the side of his face, his scar bare to her gaze. He tipped his head, hair brushing across to conceal as much as he could.

“Why do you do that?” she whispered, her breath close as she closed their distance.

Jax tensed, her delicate fingers brushing the hair back, lingering on the rough skin. She began tracing his scar, but he caught her wrist before she could touch his lip.

Thea gasped, and he instantly regretted moving so fast that her pulse spiked. Releasing her wrist, he stepped out of the car, circling around so he could open her door.

She blinked up at him, eyes lacking their usual light. He knew if she wasn’t intoxicated she’d have fought him more, cursed and sworn or simply rolled her eyes. He found he missed her energy, even if it was in opposition to him.

“This isn’t my home,” she said, frowning.

“I never said I was taking you home.”

Her place wasn’t as safe. Not when his beast rode him so hard, and it wouldn’t be long before he was finally forced to shift – to sleep.

Ignoring the shooting pain through his thigh, he held out his hand, not wanting to scare her any further. Without hesitation, she took it, and Jax allowed himself to relax until the harsh overhead lighting emphasised the three angry slashes on her shoulder, as well as the single puncture wound. Moving slowly, he touched the side of it, feeling heat despite the skin no longer as angry. Whatever the witch had done, had definitely helped.

Unable to stop the urge, he dipped his head, nuzzling his nose down her neck.

She giggled as if tickled, placing her palms flat against him. She didn’t push him away, but he stepped back regardless. He needed to get to a room and clean it properly, but at least there was no remaining scent of venom.

Thea’s lips trembled, and his eyes were drawn to the fullness of them. It took a second, and then she pressed her palm against her face, chest heaving with laughter. “Your shirt’s too small,” she managed to get out between giggles. “You’ve ripped it.”

“And you’re still high,” he sighed, only to pick her back up and carry her to the marble entrance. Greeted by the well-dressed doorman, Jax marched straight up to the pale white desk. It was the early hours in the morning, and yet people still sat and enjoyed the bar, drinking alone or with friends. Not a single person looked up at the mad woman chuckling in his arms, her pink hair draped dramatically over his arm.

“The usual, sir?” The receptionist’s cool, professional gaze swept over Thea, then back again. She was dressed just as well as the doorman, her suit pitch black and all sharp angles.

“Look at the stars,” Thea whispered in her dreamy tone, her fingers reaching up to brush along his jaw.

At his nod, the receptionist produced a golden card.

Thea trailed her fingers down his throat. “Look.”

Jax followed her line of sight, finding the ceiling had been painted in constellations amongst a night sky. He’d never noticed it before.

“I feel like I’m flying,” she continued, smiling up at him lazily.