Coldbloods (Hotbloods #2)

As his eyes fell on me, I felt the breath leave my lungs. I could barely wait for the coldblood woman to back out of the room before I raced over to him and launched into his arms.

“Riley.” He groaned softly, hugging me back, but as I caught a glimpse of the side of his face I realized he was wincing. I pulled away, fearing I was hurting him. If I thought I’d been to hell and back… I didn’t know where he’d been.

The last thing I wanted to do was place distance between us, but I took a couple of steps back, eyeing him from head to toe. As earlier, he was in his full-on coldblood form, with grayish skin, bruises scattered across his face and arms, and his clothes were tattered. I caught his hand and pulled him to sit on the bed, then immediately brought the tray of vials over and presented them to him.

“Uh, you need to drink this stuff. It’s supposed to fix you, and your wing.” I was relying on him knowing what to do with these substances.

But he wasn’t looking at the vials. His slate eyes were glued to my face, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice painfully scratchy. “Why have they brought us here?”

I reached out to grab the bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to him. “Drink, Navan. You need it.”

He took a few sips, while I took a deep breath. I knew that he wasn’t going to like what I had to say, but he wanted answers.

“Navan I… I got a meeting with Orion—that chief coldblood who sniffed me out— and, in exchange for telling him our story, I bought us some time, and this medicine for you.”

“You… You told him everything?” he asked, his eyes widening.

“Everything except your brothers’ and my friends’ involvement,” I said, feeling a flare of impatience. “And I’m pretty sure you would’ve done the same if you were forced to watch me being electrocuted to death.”

He swallowed hard, then leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I get it,” he muttered.

“Now, will you get to work on some of these potions? I don’t know how much time we have.”

“What happened with Orion, exactly?” he asked, as he started examining the vials.

“By the way, you seemed to recognize him back there,” I said. “Have you seen him before?”

“Orion is pretty infamous back in Vysanthe,” Navan replied, downing one of the vials. “He was a known rebel leader back in the day. I guess I was just… surprised he’s still at it.”

“Well, here’s the bad news,” I said. “He didn’t do all of this for us for nothing. I told him that I would talk to you and persuade you to hear out his plan. He wants to involve you in their mission—he mentioned you playing a key role in bringing about Queen Gianne’s downfall.”

Navan grimaced. “Yeah. I guess that’s not really surprising to me. Ezra already hinted as much.”

“Orion also said they’re trying to develop a ‘true’ immortality elixir. One that not only extends their natural lifespans, but fortifies their strength as well, so they become close to invincible.”

“I didn’t realize that.” Navan’s brows rose. “That takes my father’s theory to a whole new level. I’m not even sure how it’d be possible… but it makes perfect sense Orion is trying. If they want to build an army powerful enough to take on Vysanthe’s military, they’re going to need every last scrap of strength they can find.”

“Orion wants to meet with you to talk about everything, and he wants you to actually cooperate. Honestly, Navan,” I said, looking at him worriedly, “I don’t know whether you’re going to have a choice in this. I can’t stand for them to take you back into that… into that room and…” I paused, trying not to choke on my words. “If you refuse to help, I honestly don’t think you’ll make it out again. The only thing that’s keeping you alive right now is their perceived value of you.”

He set down the vial that he had been about to drink from and reached out to touch my hand, apparently sensing I was close to tears. Our eyes met, and he nodded stoically. “I know, Riley. I know. I’m stubborn, but I’m probably not stubborn enough to want to die.” He withdrew his hand and ran both hands down his face, letting out a low groan. “I’m going to have to meet with him, and… Well, we’ll take it from there.”

I nodded, even though I was terrified what this mission was going to mean for Navan.

“Honestly,” he went on, “I’ve got to return to Vysanthe at some point soon anyway. Remember I’m a Chief of Exploration—I don’t want any of my team getting suspicious as to my whereabouts. But yeah, before I agree to anything, I want more details.”

He set me with another look, one that told me he was also worrying about my safety in all of this, about what his involvement would mean for me. I sensed he was about to bring it up, but I didn’t want to talk about me right now. He needed to get himself fixed up while he had the chance.

I stood up and hovered over the tray of vials he had resting on his knees. “One of these is supposed to be for your wing. Maybe an ointment? Do you know which one?”

He sighed, but allowed me to distract him. He opened each vial and sniffed its contents, before finally settling on one that was slightly larger than the others. “Yeah. This one is an ointment. This other stuff is supposed to be drunk, mostly for bruises and general post trauma.”

I waited for him to finish downing the other liquids, and then lifted the tray away from his lap. I took the ointment vial from his hand, trying to ignore the tingle that ran up my arm as our fingers brushed.

“So, you gonna get out those wings, or…”

He had stood up, pulled off his shirt, and spread out his wings before I could finish my sentence. I felt my breath hitch involuntarily as his back, in all of its full, toned glory, came into view. I would’ve taken more time to admire it, had I not been distracted by the myriad of dark bruises and scars.

I swore beneath my breath. “Navan… I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

He said nothing, while my eyes spanned the length of his long wings, until I spotted the shifter gash that had impaired his flight before. But it was pretty high up for me to reach while he was standing.

“Hey,” I said softly. “Could you sit on the bed?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He moved to the bed, and I climbed onto the mattress behind him. I perched on my knees, placing one hand gently on the nape of his neck, while I used the other to begin dabbing the vial’s applicator against the leathery surface of his wing. I felt his neck muscles tense, and I worked as gently as I could until the whole wound was moist with the stuff.

His skin was cold, in spite of the moderate temperature in this room. It occurred to me that his “chameleon” potion—the potion that allowed him to absorb the sun’s rays during the day and become human-like, as well as adjust to the temperature around him—was starting to wear off. He had lost his own stash of vials, so he had no way to keep up that treatment. Not that he exactly needed to now.