“Mostly okay,” he whispered softly, trembling under Rafe’s touch. “I just have to remind myself sometimes that it’s worse if I don’t take them. But oh, I hate having to need to.”
“That I understand, magpie,” he laughed. “Come on. Bet that clan of yours is about to light the torches because you’ve gone AWOL.”
“I left Kane a note.” It was a stretch of the truth, a piece of hastily scribbled-on paper tacked onto the kitchen fridge. “Sort of. I left Da a voice mail. Let him deal with their shit. He made them. He can deal with Kane and Con.”
“I’m game if you are. How about some dinner? Feel like some food?”
Rafe’s fingers were back in Quinn’s hair, and he resisted the urge to move his cheek into Rafe’s palm. Not daring to speak, Quinn nodded.
“Good,” Rafe said. “One thing, though, why’s your cat splashing around in the toilet? ’Cause I sure as shit don’t know where a mop is in this place.”
QUINN WAS choking on blood. No matter how much he tried swallowing, it bubbled back in, a steady river pushing past his teeth to flood his throat and sinuses. He tried screaming, tried doing anything other than drowning in the thick metallic mass pouring over him, but nothing came out—nothing happened—and when Quinn’s eyelids won their fight against the rushing tide of blood, he opened them to find only darkness.
LeAnne came out at him from the shadows, her mouth stretched wide in a vulgar mockery of the gaping wound carved into her belly. Her lips were slung down low, pushed nearly to her chin from the weight of her intestines spilling over her broken teeth and undulating tongue.
He fought to be free of the shadows wrapping around him, but they clung too firmly, a stygian straitjacket Quinn couldn’t work loose. If anything, the pressure on his body tightened, cutting off his airway and pushing his ribs in, the bones turning knifelike to slice through his flesh. Horrifyingly, a jut of steel bone burst through his belly before curving a half-moon cut into his skin.
“Come on, baby. Come back to me here.”
Rafe’s purring rasp broke through the gurgle of blood pouring from Quinn’s mouth, and he blinked, losing his battle to the gush once again.
“Hey. Hey, I’m right here, Q. Just pull up, babe. For me. Come on.”
Rafe shouldn’t have been there. Not in the middle of the gore and foul-smelling ichors. The darkness lightened, peeling away in ashen sheets. Then Quinn gasped, finally able to breathe despite the sour metallic wash in his throat and lungs.
“There you go. Come back to me, magpie. I’ve got you.”
A warmth encompassed Quinn, burning away the last remaining cold tendrils wrapping around his chest.
“Open those gorgeous eyes of yours. That’s it. Hey, there you are.”
The dream wisped away into smoke, flecks of gray lingering in Quinn’s mind as he surfaced out of his nightmare’s drowning pool. He blinked, and LeAnne was gone. He’d sat up at some point, or Rafe’d pulled him up, because he found himself nearly sprawled over Rafe’s lap, his arms wrapped around Quinn’s waist.
Then LeAnne came to him, her empty eyes fogged with confusion and pain, and Quinn felt the panic ride him again as he tasted blood in his mouth and the sting on his tongue where he’d nearly bitten through its flesh.
“Oh God, the girl,” Quinn gasped, thankful for the rush of cold air burning when he took a breath. “Her eyes, Rafe. God, her eyes. She kept staring at me. Just looking at me—”
“I know, babe. Come on,” Rafe murmured, rocking Quinn in a slow curve. “Hey, Q. I’m right here. It’s just a dream.”
“She’s dead, Rafe. And I killed her.” The image of LeAnne’s shocked slack face blurred, swaddled by emotions and other memories. “God, she looked at me… like when I had to put Tommy to sleep, the cat you brought home to us. Remember him? He was so sick… and so old… and when the vet said we couldn’t do any more for him, I wanted to be the one who held him then, you know?”
“Yeah, I know, babe. But this… she’s not on you.”
“She is. And she had the same look in her eyes that he did.”
He had to get free of Rafe’s arms, if only to shake the feeling back into his hands. Rafe refused to let go, shifting to keep hold of his waist, and Quinn gulped in more air.
“It was like she was saying ‘Why are you making me go away?’ Like he did. God, I didn’t want to let him go, even though I knew there wasn’t anything I could do, all I could think was he’s asking me why I am sending him away. She was dead, and I could hear her screaming at me—”
“You didn’t kill her, Q.” Rafe shifted, rocking Quinn back. “You didn’t kill Tommy either. Don’t—”