(Mis)fortune

In less than our allotted hour, we left the seedy hotel. Emmitt once more cradled me in his arms as he ran carefully, sticking to the shadows and putting distance between the hotel and us.

Even with his smooth pace, my head throbbed with each step. Nausea continued to roll in my tender stomach. I didn’t acknowledge any of it because I knew he was worried; I felt him look down at me several times.

“I’m okay,” I said running my fingers through the hair at the base of his skull.

He lightly kissed the top of my head.

A few minutes later, we found a payphone. I held the receiver to Emmitt’s ear and dialed since he wouldn’t put me down. I didn’t mind. The position allowed me to lean close and listen to the conversation.

Emmitt’s father let out a relieved breath when he heard Emmitt’s hello.

“Grey called,” Thomas said. “He and Carlos dealt with your would-be followers. Are you two safe?”

“Are my brothers safe?” I asked before Emmitt could answer.

“They are. We had two incidents earlier, but everything is quiet now. Mary and Gregory are with the boys, and several of our pack are patrolling.”

I sagged with relief.

“Michelle’s been hurt,” Emmitt said, his voice deceptively calm. He shushed me when I tried to insist I felt fine. “She needs to rest.”

I heard Thomas cover the phone with his hand. A murmur of voices continued for several seconds before Thomas came back on and asked us to wait while Charlene booked us another room. I could hear Charlene speaking rapidly in the background but couldn’t make out the words. After a few minutes, Thomas gave Emmitt directions to a new hotel.

“Emmitt, be careful.” There was a lot of love in those three words.

“We will,” Emmitt said.

I hung up the phone, and Emmitt took me by surprise with a long kiss. He poured his relief into it, tenderly holding me close. In the distance, someone shouted encouragement. It cooled the moment. Emmitt pulled away and rested his forehead against mine, breathing deeply.

“I won’t be able to let you go for a while.”

I kissed his cheek in response. He walked away from the phone, carrying me snugly. Once he reached the shadows of a side street, he sprinted away from our audience.

A smiling attendant greeted us outside the new hotel and moved to open the door for Emmitt as we approached. I felt silly being carried but didn’t try to get Emmitt to put me down, yet.

The red and gold patterned carpet in the expansive reception area muffled Emmitt’s steps, and every piece of highly polished metal we passed gleamed in the lights.

The person behind the desk welcomed us with a smile. “Mr. Cole. Good to see you. Your mother’s description was very accurate.” The man held out a room card, which I accepted on Emmitt’s behalf. “Room service will be up with your meal. Please let me know if you need anything else. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Neither Emmitt nor I said anything for a moment. I wondered what Emmitt’s mom had done or said to have completely registered us before our arrival. The man should have at least made us sign something.

As long as he was being accommodating, I decided to see if he could help a little more. “Do you think someone could get me some socks and shoes? I lost mine.”

The man smiled serenely and nodded as if it were an everyday occurrence to have a guest request shoes. “I’ll have something delivered as soon as possible.”

I thanked the man, then Emmitt turned away, heading toward the bank of elevators. I pressed the button for Emmitt, and he stepped in as soon as the doors slid open. After checking the number on the room card’s envelope, I selected the top floor. The doors slid shut, and the elevator started moving.

“Could you set me down? I don’t want to attract any more attention than we already have.”

He grudgingly obliged, but as soon as he set me on my feet, he wrapped my hand in his and rubbed his thumb in slow circles against the pulse in my wrist. I stood carefully, trying not to wince at the aches I felt.

When the elevator chimed and the doors whispered open, Emmitt breathed deeply before we both stepped out into a deserted hallway.

“Are we okay here?” I asked softly. I didn’t think he’d scented anything but after being taken once, I was feeling cautious.

He pointed to a camera mounted just outside the elevator. “Better security.”

He led me left from the elevator. Our movements were strangely hushed, making me feel like we were in a library rather than a hotel. Several feet down the hallway, just before the first numbered door, I noticed another camera. This hotel definitely had more security. And more space. The doors were so far apart, I wondered what kind of room Charlene had gotten for us.

Our room card opened the second door on the right side of the hall. Decorated in neutral colors with black accents, the suite not only looked clean but smelled clean, too. The door closed behind us with a click. After one last swipe of his thumb, Emmitt released my hand.

The light cream walls of the kitchenette flowed into the main room where a fireplace danced with electric flames. The leather sofa and oversized chair beckoned, but I hesitated to step from the dark laminate floor that ran from the entry door to the light carpet. I didn’t want to leave dirty footprints.

I noticed a bathroom through an open door to the right. It was immaculately clean, and I stared in grateful appreciation. Three times larger than the one at home, it had a glass corner shower with dual shower heads, a whirlpool tub big enough for two, and a heated towel rack.

“I call dibs on the tub,” I whispered, half-reverently.

Emmitt laughed but didn’t follow me as I drifted into the bathroom, flicking on the lights. I moved to the tub and turned on the water. Fluffy, white towels sat on the tub’s ledge along with a pair of white robes.

When I saw the robe, I paused. It struck a familiar chord, but I couldn’t place why. Given the other crappy hotels, I was sure it hadn’t been because of them. I continued staring at it. Seeing it didn’t alarm me; it made me feel like I’d forgotten something important.

Absently, I wandered from the bathroom, forgetting to worry about my feet as I looked around again. Nothing in the kitchen or living area looked familiar, and I started to doubt the odd feeling I’d gotten.

Emmitt, who sat on the sofa, lifted his head from his hands and watched me with a sad light in his gaze. I crossed the carpet, sat beside him, and rested my head on his shoulder.

“Don’t dwell on the past. It doesn’t do any good.”

He kissed my forehead. “Go take your bath.”

Reaching around him, I gave him a quick hug then got up to inspect the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” he asked with curiosity in his voice.

“Just checking things out. Something seemed familiar, and I can’t figure out why.”

I moved to the doorway and froze. The king-sized bed with a white down comforter dominated the room. Two towels folded into swans faced each other at the end of the bed. Their heads and necks formed a heart. On the wall above the bed, a black, white, and brown abstract painting hung. To the left, long black and brown patterned curtains dominated the wall.

This was the room from the vision where I bit Emmitt. My stomach dropped, and a blush consumed my face. My stomach continued twisting nervously, and my heart gave a quick unsteady beat.

“Are you okay?” Emmitt asked quietly from behind me.

Startled, I jumped and turned. “Yep. Fine. I’m going to rinse in the shower then take a nice long soak. Let me know when the food’s here, okay?” My gaze drifted to his throat briefly before I forced it back to his eyes.

He tilted his head, probably trying to figure out what I wasn’t saying. I just smiled nervously and moved to step around him. He mirrored my move, blocking me.

“Michelle, tell me. What is it? Should we leave? Find another room?” Concern etched his face.

Despite my discomfort, I couldn’t let him worry. I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head on his chest. His heart beat strong and steady. Mine still raced.

“No. The room is fine. I just connected it with a vision I had.”

“What was the vision about?”

I made a face against his chest, not wanting to say anything, but knowing he’d think the worst, if I didn’t.

“You and me.” I pulled away, feeling nervous. Then, the filter between my brain and my mouth broke. Every thought that crossed my mind spilled from me unedited.

“I don’t want to bite you. I don’t care if it looked like you liked it or not. It’s going to hurt you, and I just don’t think I can do it. Not yet.”

He quickly masked his shocked expression and didn’t try to stop me when I fled toward the bathroom. I wasn’t nervous about being “engaged” to Emmitt. The biting part scared me. I’d bit Frank because I was angry and desperate. I’d meant it to hurt him. Granted it hadn’t, and all I had to show for it was the lingering taste of rotten soup in my mouth, but still…

I glanced back at Emmitt just before I stepped into the bathroom. He watched me with concern. I’d put him through enough lately, and as I turned away, I wished I could take back my mental spill.

I left the door ajar for comfort; I needed to be able to hear him moving around out there. Though I wasn’t about to let myself dwell on the mistake I’d made when I’d opened the door for Frank, I wouldn’t soon forget the fear.

The tub was at least halfway full, so I shut it off and moved to the shower. I was about to peel off my clothes when I realized they were the only ones I had. The hotel probably had a laundry service but what would they think of the blood that smattered my shirt? I stepped out of my shorts, but kept the rest on as I ducked in under the spray. First, I peeled off the shirt, cleaning it with shampoo until the bloodstains were gone. Then I rinsed my under things. I wrung everything out and hung the clothes over the glass shower door.

The water ran pink again when I washed my hair. Would I really be Claiming Emmitt tonight with a head injury? What kind of crazed person was I? The word “tonight” echoed in my head. I needed to think about something else. I needed a toothbrush.

I ran my fingers along my scalp to assess the damage. Wincing at the sting of the shampoo, I determined the blood was from a scrape rather than a cut. Relieved there wouldn’t be a need for stitches, I hurried to rinse. Then I washed my mouth out with soap.

Free of the blood and Frank’s lingering smell, I quickly moved to the tub and eased into the hot water. When I started the jets, the water churned so much, the level rose to the rim. I leaned back and sank down so it lapped at my chin. Slowly, I began to relax.

My mind drifted to everything Frank had said and the call with Blake. Talking to Blake hadn’t been as helpful as I’d hoped. Could I trust that he’d really given up on me for now? I thought so. At least, Frank’s comment about me not being the only one made it a possibility. Yet, I wondered what “sisters” I had that Blake meant to find. It disturbed me to think of another woman having to deal with Blake like I had, as much as it frustrated me that I hadn’t gotten the answers I wanted. I had a lot to share with the group when we got back, though. Maybe some of them would have more insight.

The water hadn’t even had time to cool when I heard a knock on the outer door. I fumbled with the jets, turning them off, and listened. Emmitt walked by the bathroom door. I sunk low in the water, but he only pulled the door shut as he passed.

I left the water as quietly as possible, grabbed a towel, and quickly dried off. All the while, I strained to hear anything. Was it too quiet out there? I tossed on the robe, crept toward the door, and pressed my ear against its surface.

“Food’s here.”

I jumped at the sound of Emmitt’s voice directly on the other side of the door and yanked it open in time to catch his slight smirk.

“Not funny.” I pulled the belt tightly around my waist and flinched when my bruised stomach immediately protested.

His expression grew serious, and he looked me over as I loosened the belt. When his eyes lingered on the side of my head, I turned slightly to show him the scrape.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” I said turning to look at him again. He wasn’t eyeing my head anymore, but the robe. Too late, I realized what I’d done. The vision had shown me in a robe.

Before I could become more nervous, he indicated the food he’d set out on the kitchenette’s island. His mother had ordered steaks topped with blue cheese, sides of mushrooms, and baked potatoes with the works. There were three full meals. My tender stomach rebelled at the thought of eating so much, but I knew it wasn’t all for me. Emmitt needed more food due to the miles he’d covered.

I settled on one of the stools, heard a clink, and looked down to see one of the meals already set in front of me. I opened my mouth to argue, but Emmitt gave me a warning look. Was I two-years-old, now? Yet, I kept quiet about why I didn’t want to eat.

The scrape on my head and marks on my wrists and ankles were enough for him to worry over. I wasn’t about to give him a full inventory of my aches so he could dwell on each one. He was already upset Frank had gotten me. If he knew the extent of it, he’d just feel worse.

We ate in silence. I picked at the meal, eating a few bites from everything before pushing it away. Emmitt reached for my plate, scraped it together with what was left of his second meal, then put the leftovers in the refrigerator.

Hunger satisfied, I leaned against the counter, propped my head up with my hand, and fought to keep my eyes open. Funny that I’d started out the day thinking it’d be boring when it’d been anything but boring. Banged around, kidnapped, rescued, carried for miles, I needed sleep. I yawned hugely and tried to smother it with my hand. I wasn’t ready to go to the bedroom, yet. No matter how tired I was, I couldn’t forget my vision.

Emmitt noticed my yawn. He had me up in his arms before I could blink.

“I’m not tired,” I protested. We both knew that was a lie.

He looked down at me for a moment. I gazed back, my fingers nervously plucking at the fabric of his shirt. It had a small bloodstain on it, too.

“Frank didn’t hurt you, did he?” I asked, feeling horrible for not asking sooner.

He gave a pained laugh then leaned in to kiss me. A light kiss. He pulled back and searched my face, his expression bittersweet and sad.

I didn’t want him to be sad. We’d made it safely away from Frank, and we were together. I pressed my hand against his shirt over the steady beat of his heart. Together was what mattered.

I slid a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. His lips feathered over mine, and I sighed, reassured. It was too sweet to pull away even though my heart started to hammer and my face flushed.

His lips moved over mine, hesitantly at first then more aggressively, as he held me in his arms. He stole my breath with his passion, and his desperation caught fire in me. I feathered my fingers through his short hair, while I explored the curve of his shoulder and ridges of his arm with my other hand.

I barely noticed when he lay me down on the mattress. I hadn’t even been aware we’d moved. He continued kissing me, forearms braced on either side of me, careful not to hurt me further. With my hands free, I tugged his shirt up to smooth my fingers over his stomach.

I’d lost control over the situation. Not that it mattered. He was doing a wonderful job of taking me to that magical place where just the two of us existed.

He smoothed a gentle hand over my hair then trailed his fingers down to toy with the sensitive skin of my neck. Chills danced along my skin. I broke away from his kiss to pant for a quick breath. Before I could recapture his lips, he proceeded to kiss my brow, then my temple.

The move brought the column of his throat close to my mouth. I strained forward slightly and kissed him just below his jaw. He froze above me, and fine tremors shook the bed.

Something about him, about this, called to me. I tentatively ran the tip of my tongue over his skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered, nipping his neck gently.

He groaned in frustration.

“It hurts to wait.”

Everything in my vision was happening just as I’d seen. I didn’t hurry. I continued to kiss and nip, slowly becoming the aggressor. He groaned every time my teeth scraped his skin. He kissed my collarbone and shoulder, giving me plenty of room. Bursts of hot need filled me and pushed me closer to what he wanted, to what I wanted. I finally understood biting him was about me making a choice. And I chose him.

I bit down firmly, just enough to break the skin. The bite healed almost instantly. I tenderly kissed where I’d bit him. Mine. He claimed my mouth in a searing kiss then pulled back.

I studied his face, expecting to feel different. My stomach flipped wildly as it always did when I looked at him, but as far as I could tell nothing fundamental had changed. He looked relaxed and very pleased with himself. A feeling of complete contentment washed over me.

“Go to sleep, now,” he whispered, shifting me so I lay curled against his side.

Exhaustion caught up with me, and my eyes closed against my will. I frowned sleepily. I wanted more kissing.

He leaned over to place another kiss on my forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured in my ear.

I didn’t have the energy to respond.