Chapter 14
Briel woke with a start. A sense of urgency swamped her, and it took a moment for her memory to come flooding back as she eyed the unfamiliar surroundings of the room she was in. The bed beneath her was soft, but she pushed up off it.
Tyce! He’d attacked her…no, not attacked, but… Lifting a shaky hand, her fingers clamped around the cold band locked around her throat. It was like the one she’d seen on Monroe StoneCrow and the Skin Walker from the video her father had shown her. She jerked hard, trying to rip the thing off, but it wouldn’t budge. She felt all around it, trying to find a catch or clasp of some sort but there was none. She didn’t know what the collar did, or what it meant, but the dread filling her told her that it couldn’t be good.
Fena! The collar issue would have to wait for later because right now, horror swept through Briel at the realization that Fena wasn’t on the bed with her. Her feet hit the floor, but as she took a step toward the door, the room spun violently. She barely kept herself from going down, and when she was steady enough, she lifted a hand to her head, massaging her pounding temple. She desperately wanted to lie back down, but forced herself to stay upright, swallowing hard and pinching her eyes shut against the waves of dizziness and nausea crashing over her. A few deep breathes settled her somewhat, and she slowly opened her eyes.
The room she was in was the size of her first apartment. Dark mahogany furniture sat elegantly throughout the space. A bureau and dresser stood closer to the sleigh bed, while the other end of the room housed a quaint sitting area with two leather reading chairs facing each other in front of a large hearth.
Turning, she eyed the large window partially hidden by floor-length crimson drapes. The room felt regal, but Briel felt anything but. She considered trying to make an escape out the window and going for help, but she couldn’t leave Fena behind. There was no choice but to go in search of her, but the longer she stood and plotted her course of action the more her legs wobbled. Suddenly, her stomach heaved, and she doubled over, lowering to a knee to keep from falling over as she moaned inwardly. Ohhhh, I need water.
There was a carafe and glass on the small bedside table and she eyed it longingly before rising and shuffling toward the door. Her own needs could wait. First, she had to find Fena. She only made it two steps before she had to stop. One hand was clamped on her belly and the other was massaging her head when the door clicked open and Tyce strode in.
At the sight of her, his confident stride stuttered to a halt as he growled, “Get back in bed.”
Briel’s hands lowered to her sides where they balled into tight fists. It took everything she had to pretend she didn’t want to drop to her knees and puke. Her words clawed their way up from her parched throat. “Wh-where’s my sister?”
“She’s here. She’s fine, safe.”
How could she have let this happen? Poor Fena must be so terrified. Briel had one job in this life, and that was to protect her sister, yet here she stood, drugged or something worse, with no idea where Fena was.
She lifted her chin, feigning confidence that was belied by the tremble in her voice. “I-I wanna speak to whoever’s in charge.”
Tyce’s stern expression didn’t change. “I’m in charge.” He jerked his chin toward the bed but kept his eyes pinned on her. “Get back in bed.”
“I want to see Fena.”
“If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll have her brought in shortly.” He lifted a hand and jabbed it toward the bed. “Get. Back. In. Bed.”
Another wave of nausea crashed over Briel and she lowered her head, trying to bite back the moan creeping up her throat. Her hands, which were still fisted in anger, were now shaking with the effort of remaining upright. Sweat dotted her nose and forehead and her limbs began to tremble.
“Fuck!”
In two strides, Tyce was on her. Briel couldn’t even muster up a good struggle as he scooper her up and carried her back to the bed where he settled her gently before pouring her a glass of water. “You’re not well. I’m sorry.”
And he damn well should be, because she had a feeling her illness was his fault. She’d been fine before he’d done whatever it was that had knocked her out.
“What did you do to me?”
He didn’t answer.
Lifting a shaking hand to the band around her throat, she fisted it. “I want this thing off!”
Tyce held the glass out to her. “Not happening, Angel.”
“I want Fena here! She and I are leaving.” It came out sounding like more of a question instead of the statement of fact that she’d intended.
A corner of Tyce’s mouth kicked up and he shook his head before repeating, “Not happening, Angel.”
Briel’s lip trembled as another wave of nausea swept over her. Pinching her eyes shut, she moaned against the sick feeling overwhelming her senses. Her hands lifted to rub her arms against the chill that suddenly blasted her. She kept her eyes shut, needing a moment to mask the vulnerability that swamped her. “Please.” When she looked up she caught the momentary break in Tyce’s hard expression. She could have sworn he looked almost apologetic before the look vanished.
“You and Fena are no longer safe outside these walls. It’s for your protection that you’ll remain. You need to be taken care of.”
“I’m a grown woman. You can’t keep us here against our will.”
Dark brows speared down, and with the scars on his face he suddenly looked savage. “Believe me,” his eyes traveled down her body then slowly tracked back up. “I am fully aware that you are a grown woman, Briel. But there are men out there hunting you. Bad men. If you’re too foolish to think of yourself, you should at least think of Fena.”
Briel’s soft features quickly sharpened into a fierce scowl. “How dare you! You don’t know us. You don’t know me.” She jabbed a finger in the direction of the door, “I would die for that little girl. Literally! Fucking! Die! I would never put her in harm’s way for any reason, least of all because of my own stupid pride.”
Tyce’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You’re doing it now.”
“You’re wrong.” Shoving to a sitting position, she shook her head and instantly regretted it. The room tilted, and she pinched her eyes closed, bracing both hands on either side of her hips to steady herself. She moaned and fell back onto the bed. “What did you do to me? Did you drug me?” Behind her closed eyes, tears gathered, and she felt too wretched to even attempt to stop them as they slipped free.
Above her, Tyce’s tone softened and the bed near her hip sunk. “Angel,” he crooned. “I didn’t drug you.” His voice turned harsh when he commanded, “Send Pyper to my suite now!”
Her eyes blinked open to see who he was talking to, but the room was empty except for the two of them. Briel’s head dipped as she lost some of her steam. “You can’t keep us safe. If my father couldn’t, you certainly can’t. Besides, it’s our association with you that’s put us in danger in the first place. I don’t care what happens to me, but I can’t let anything happen to Fena. None of this is her fault.”
Ignoring her words, Tyce held out the glass of water. “Drink this.”
Briel eyed the glass then Tyce.
“Drink,” he commanded a second time.
She turned her head away and lied, “I’m not thirsty.” Then she added as an afterthought, “And I won’t be ordered around.”
When he leaned over her, her head whipped around and she jerked away from him. Her cheeks flushed at her reaction, and she kept her eyes down as Tyce spoke.
“I’d never harm you, Briel. But I won’t let you harm yourself either. I know you’re thirsty because I can scent your body’s distress.”
Her brow furrowed in silent question.
“I can scent your body’s chemistry and your emotions. I’m a Skin Walker. There’s very little you’ll be able to hide from me. So…please,” he held the glass out to her, “drink. It’ll help ease the residual effects of being collared.”
Collared? She lifted a trembling hand to the object around her throat. “Wh-what is this?” She dropped her tired arm as her eyes pooled with a fresh bout of tears. “Is this some sick game?”
“It’s my halo.”
“Halo? What does it do? What’s it for? And if it’s yours, then why is it on me?”
“It means…”