Heir of Fury

Chapter Eight

Chapter EightI was glad I never warded my apartment against leeway jumps. I cut off the flow of energy and dropped the leeway, almost planting my face on the TV screen when the line heaved me out with more force than I'd expected.

The first thing I registered was the wonderful aroma of coffee. The second was how bright everything was. And the noise. Everything so loud. Moving vehicles, barking horns, screeching sirens, blaring music. The sound of someone's TV filtering through the walls. The electric sound of the refrigerator, the AC. The beat of a loud base on a speaker somewhere. The voices of countless people talking at once. Airplanes. Yapping dogs.

I inhaled the wonderful aroma of coffee, saliva pooling in my mouth at the prospect of a hot mug. And then I had this sudden and jarring thought: What If this was no longer my home? What if the Hunters decided paying for an empty apartment was pointless and terminated the lease?

A glance around at the living room revealed an unfamiliar open book laying face-down on the coffee table; a men's gray nylon jacket draped atop the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was still the same, uncluttered and clean, save for a small device the size of a baby shoebox on the counter, a USB drive sticking on top. A device I hadn't owned before Remo had summoned me. My apartment had always been tidy too, but If I was honest, it never gleamed the way it did now. All the wood seemed to have been recently polished–wood planks, the TV stand and coffee table. The kitchen counter, the appliances, everything was clean and shining as if never used. And, the most glaring evidence: a flower box full of white and yellow lilies sitting on the living-room windowsill, something I hadn't owned. s**t, this was no longer my house.

I was about to sneak out the front door–I didn't have enough for a leeway jump–when a figure crossed in front of the window. I froze, my heart making a mad somersault leap before lodging in my throat.

Zantry.

I stood there, frozen, watching him water the flowers with a watering can. Should I open the bond and surprise him, or should I walk outside and wait for him to see me?

While I hesitated, Zantry raised his head and looked straight at me. Our eyes connected, his the vivid blue that darkened to violet depending on the mood, mine the dark black of obsidian. I opened the bond, found him there and waiting. His presence was like a ray of sunshine I reached for whenever I was cold or numb. Always there, always bright. Always warming.

He sent me a jumble of feelings. Relief, excitement, happiness, longing, tenderness, all mixed up in a tangle, barely decipherable from the other, along with some frustration and anger.

He smiled, that beautiful smile that never failed to take my breath away, then he turned and disappeared from view. I took a step forward, stopped and listened as he opened the back door and stepped into the laundry/mudroom. A moment later he appeared in the kitchen, dressed in a simple short-sleeved white t-shirt and dark sweatpants and sneakers. His hair was tied back in a ponytail, his shoulders wider than the last time I'd seen him.

He looked well.

He looked comfortable.

He looked so much more beautiful than I remembered. I wanted to touch his face, to pinch myself, see if I was dreaming. So I clasped my hands together, afraid to make a total fool of myself.

“There you are,” he said, his voice like a gentle caress on my nerves. He came closer, his eyes warm, kind, welcoming.

“There you are,” he said again, looking me over from head to toe as if he wanted to make sure I was still in one piece.

Self-consciously, I glanced down at myself. I looked silly dressed in blue genie pants and a yellow long-sleeved peasant blouse. They weren't nice or fashionable or even fit well, but the enchanted Sidhe attire preserved body heat, keeping me from freezing in the chill of the Low Lands, and more importantly, allowed me to shift forms without ripping apart.

He stopped about a foot away, and I held my breath, waiting, already lost in the deep blue of his eyes. A dirt-streaked hand reached and touched my face, traced a knuckle over my cheek. As if he wanted to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

He exhaled, lowered his brow to mine and murmured, “There you are.” There was so much relief in his voice, I didn't need the bond or the shifting energy around him to tell me that. I closed the gap between us, wound my arms around his torso and let my forehead rest on his shoulder. His arms came around me, and we both took in a comforting, easy breath.

Home. Finally, home. I sighed into the crook of his neck. In response, Zantry's arms tightened around me in a fierce embrace. For a long while we stood like that, basking in each other's relief, the sense of finally coming home.

“You're really here,” he said, pulling away to look at me, capturing my cold hands in his warm, calloused ones. His eyes scrutinized every inch of me, taking longer on my aura, but he didn't comment or point out the change I knew was there. Instead, he spoke the obvious: “You lost a lot of weight.”

I smiled. “There wasn't much of unhealthy fat to eat in there. It was mostly weird fungus, dried fruits, canned stuff and strange meat.” I placed a hand over my stomach. “I missed solid, greasy food.” As if to underline my words, my stomach gurgled with anticipation.

The light in Zantry's eyes darkened a fraction, but his tone was light when he said, “In that case, let me prepare you something rich with unhealthy fat and fresh things.” He went to wash the dirt from his hands on the sink, scrubbing harder than necessary. Unable to help myself, I reached for the coffee carafe, filled a blue and red polka mug with the dark brew. I wrapped my hands around the hot cup, inhaled the wonderful aroma, closed my eyes and enjoyed my first caffeine infusion in ages. It needed sugar, but I couldn't resist taking another sip, then another.

God, it tasted so good. It had been a long time since I'd ingested something this hot. The fire mages in the lair sometimes cooked whatever meat they could find and passed them around, but I never joined them.

Sensing eyes on me, I glanced up, found Zantry watching, jaws clenched, eyes hard. His emotions were bound tight, and I couldn't tell what he was feeling. Cheese and tomatoes were balanced on one hand, a bag of sliced bread on the other.

“I missed coffee,” I said, trying to lighten his mood.

“It shows.” He placed everything on the counter and turned back to rummage inside the fridge again. I took another sip, gulped a few more. “Can I help with something?”

“No, I got this. Why don't you go freshen up while I get things ready? Maybe take a hot shower?”

“Do I stink?” I raised my arm and sniffed my armpit.

He chuckled, put mayo and mustard on the counter beside the tomatoes and cheese, reached for me and cupped a warm hand over my cheek. That static frisson I missed so much zinged through me, made my blood sing with joy.

“You have dirt streaked on your face. And you're cold. And I bet you haven't had a hot shower since you left.”

I touched a hand to his wrist, pressed his hand to my cheek. “You bet right. I'll go take that hot shower, then.”

“It'll all be ready when you're done.” He searched my eyes for two seconds more, turned back to the fridge, came out with some potatoes. “Don't take long or it'll get cold,” he warned and I gulped the rest of the bitter brew, anticipating a hot, fragrant shower. “Zantry?” I asked halfway to the bathroom.

“Yes?”

“How long was I gone?”

He looked up from the potato he was peeling and met my eyes. “Three weeks.”

Nodding, I headed for the bathroom, sensing his eyes on me.