Changeling (Book 1) Rated R

Chapter 16 Pt 2

After a beat and a deep sigh, I stepped back into the room, closing the door with a soft click.

"Shouldn't we get out of here?"

"Not just yet. I'm too weak to fly." Christian explained.

"Cars exist, you know? Taxis. Uber?"

"I know." He waived his hand in dismissal. "I need a moment to regain my strength. For now, just avoid using your powers."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Worried about me, are you, sis?"

I rolled my eyes. "It'd be pretty hard to help me find my family if you're, you know, dead."

"Well that just makes me feel used." He sighed with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Hey lay his head back against the white hotel pillows, one arm draped over his bloody stomach and closed his eyes.

Though the wound left by the metal pole had closed, his skin was still ragged and red, streaked with drying blood.

"We should get you cleaned up." I told him.

"You're right. This looks like something out of a bad ax murderer movie."

Leaving him to go rummage through the bathroom, I collected a few towels, dampened them and returned to find him sitting up, his legs hanging off the side of the bed.

Light shone on the smooth curve of his back which was bent over in pain. He had a freckle on his left shoulder blade and his wing scars were one shade lighter than the rest of him, every part of him covered in hard, lean muscle.

Kneeling in front of him, I took the wet towels and motioned for him to lean back.

He did as I asked, his eyes on me while I wiped across his stomach with a warm, wet towel.

I tried to be gentle but he still flinched, sucking in his stomach when I reached his injured flesh.

He must've been in so much pain, even after drinking...I cringed to even think the word blood.

"Maybe I should try healing you again." I offered.

"Maybe." He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw and I could tell he was trying not to make any noise.

Setting down the towel, I placed one hand over the jagged scar, his smooth, hard skin warm beneath my fingertips. I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of his breathing to center myself.

Now that the sight of his blood wasn't making me panicked and with silence overcoming the room, I was better able to focus on the magic.

It started as a slow, drawn out warmth, beginning in my chest, making my heart beat slower.

A steady calmness drifted over me and I thought of the day that Taylor had been born and how I'd been stuck with dad for hours in the waiting room.

I'd grown restless and he'd decided to take me to the nursery where I'd been able to peer through a window at a dozen newborn babies, all wrapped up like burritos in their cots.

There had been something so peaceful about a sleeping newborn, something so pure that even at fourteen years old I'd realized it. Now, I used this image to conjure thoughts of healing, thoughts of—

Christian gasped and I opened my eyes in time to find a lightning bolt of golden magic fizzling into him.

"That felt good," He whispered.

"I'm not done—"

"You should stop." He grabbed my wrist and removed my hand, holding it between his slim fingers for one second before letting go.