Head Above Water

12. Rude Awakening

I woke up with my face smashed into a luxuriously fluffy white pillow and my head pounding as if it were performing a rock opera. My throat was parched and my neck burned where that man had bitten me. I touched the area gingerly to find the wound was covered with a gauze dressing.

I took in my surroundings, noticing I was in a bedroom—and a man’s by the look of it. One wall was painted gray, another white, and the other two were floor to ceiling windows, the view from which was incredible. The steel and glass skyscrapers of downtown loomed a stone’s throw away, glowing monoliths against the deep purple night sky.

The furnishings in the room were sleek and modern in a mixture of whites and an ashy-colored zebrawood, which matched the floor. A couple pieces of art and a few personal items dotted the walls and shelves, but otherwise the décor was minimal. Two doors stood on the wall adjacent to the bed—one was open, revealing an equally modern bathroom. The other was only open a crack, but I could tell that led into the rest of the house.

I heard a raised voice sounding muffled, like it was coming from a room below me and I slid out of the bed slowly. My whole body ached and protested the movement. I looked back at the cushy white bed in longing—it had been blissfully comfortable—but I needed to find its owner.

I ran my fingers carefully through my hair, brushing out the many tangles while I made my way out of the room. I came out into a loft of sorts, with metal railings at the edge overlooking a large living area. I spotted a spiral staircase to my left and made my way down slowly.

“What are you gonna tell her?” a faceless voice asked as I neared the first floor.

“The truth,” a second voice said, and I recognized Malcolm’s lilting accent. I’d thought it was English, but now I could tell it was actually watered down Scottish.

“You’ll scare her,” the first voice warned. “She’s been through enough.”

“I’m not lying to her,” Mal growled quietly.

“I’m not saying lie, I’m just…” He cut himself off, sighing heavily. “Just don’t tell her everything. She’s already in danger with the little she does know. You can’t tell her more.” I knew now the second voice belonged to Rick and I held back for one more moment, wanting to hear the response before I interrupted.

“Don’t lecture me on rules I’ve lived by for longer than you’ve even been alive.”

I stepped into the room then, noticing they’d been arguing across an island in the kitchen. Both of their heads whipped in my direction and I was tempted to look away, but I held their gazes, determined to get some answers.

Rick took two swift strides and gathered me into a hug, being careful not to squeeze me too hard. “Gemma,” he breathed out my name as if in relief. “Are you okay?”

I nodded while stepping back. “I’m pretty banged up, but I’m okay,” I answered. Rick’s concerned eyes travelled down to my neck, but my hair was covering the wound so he couldn’t see anything. I turned my attention to Malcolm. His face was blank, but his body seemed tense, his jaw locked, and I got the feeling he was nervous about my reaction to the night’s events.

“Can we talk?” I asked him softly.

He nodded once and I glanced back at Rick. I could tell he was reluctant to leave, but eventually he seemed to give in. “I’ll check in on you tomorrow.” He grasped my hand and squeezed it lightly before leaving the room. I heard a door close quietly and looked back at Mal, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched before us awkwardly.

“I’m not gonna run away scared like Rick said, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said, finally breaking the silence.

He stood immobile, giving away nothing and I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. “What is it, Mal? What are you so—”