Part 11 (1/2)
Noc blinked as he kept climbing stairs, and when he was done with his blink, his lips quirked.
”There's my sugarlips,” he muttered.
I didn't have it in me to cut him with a reply. The pain jarred through my conscious and I felt bile drive up my throat.
I swallowed it down but whispered a horrified, ”I may be sick.”
”Please, f.u.c.k, wait ten seconds until I have you in my bed,” Noc begged.
”I'll try,” I promised, and fortunately, after what felt a great deal longer than ten seconds, I was able to keep that promise.
I bit back a moan as he carefully extricated his s.h.i.+rt from me and gnashed my teeth silently as he rolled me to my belly. Once he'd positioned me, I felt the covers being pulled up over my bottom.
I then watched as he reached to the cord beside the bed and tugged on it.
”How did you know to come to the b.u.t.tery?” I asked.
He looked down at me. ”Your girl. She woke me up, totally freaked.”
I felt my brow furrow. ”Freaked?”
”Panicked,” he explained. ”Worried about you.”
”How did she know?” I asked.
”I don't know, babe. She woke me, she was freaked way the f.u.c.k out, said you were in danger. I didn't take time to interrogate her. I put some clothes on and hauled a.s.s.”
I decided to leave that alone. I'd speak with Josette about how she knew later, after I was a.s.sured Frey and the green witch ”had this.”
Therefore, I changed the subject as I watched Noc stride purposefully across the room. ”Why did you pull the cord?”
He disappeared through his dressing room door but still called out, ”Gonna need clean towels. And more water. And one of those sleeping drinks you talked about. And a bunch a' other s.h.i.+t, this place has it.”
Being slightly twisted to observe the door to the dressing room was causing too much pain, so I rested my cheek on my arms crossed under me and demanded loudly so he could hear (meaning indecorously, which I found irritating), ”You need to go back to Frey. Ascertain he has things in hand.”
Noc came back wearing another s.h.i.+rt, this one odd, seeming to be one piece of material, no b.u.t.tons, long sleeves, the fabric looking soft and fitting snug at his chest and shoulders.
He was also carrying a drying cloth that looked wet but wrung.
”Your cousin's got dragons on call, Frannie, I think he's good,” he denied my demand.
”I-” I began just as he stopped by the bed.
”Please be quiet, baby,” he said in a soothing tone. ”Try to relax. I'm gonna lay this on your back, maybe the cool will give you some relief, and we'll hope a doc gets here soon.”
He said that and I had no response, just kept my eyes tipped up to him, fascinated that the soothing tone of his voice was reciprocated by the look on his handsome face.
After some time, he asked, ”You good with that?”
”Pardon?”
”Me putting this on your back, Frannie, you ready?”
I felt my face pucker. ”I dislike this name you call me.”
He bent at the waist so his face was much closer to mine.
Confronted in that proximity by his striking good looks, I felt my face unpucker.
”Franka's a good enough name, I guess. But it's hard and that's not you.”
I mentally pulled my famous Franka Drakkar bravado around me and would have tossed my head if I didn't know it would cause intense pain. ”You don't know me.”
His voice got lower when he returned, ”You know I do.”
That made me shut my mouth, for oddly and with not a small amount of panic at the mere thought, I imagined he did.
”You ready for the towel, sweetheart?” he asked.
I did not bite my lip. I did not tense (for tensing made the pain worse, I'd learned that long ago). I did nothing but nod.
Noc nodded back, straightened, and with a tenderness that made my nostrils sting in order to fight back a different reaction, he laid the cool, wet cloth along my burning, ravaged back.
I closed my eyes.
”There,” he whispered.
When I opened my eyes, he was crouched low close beside the bed so he was all I could see.
”How long's he been doin' this to you?” he inquired softly.
”That's hardly your business,” I replied, though I couldn't infuse even a small measure of condescension in my voice after the care he'd taken of me.
His glance slid in the direction of my back before it came again to me.
”He got that far, no one could take that s.h.i.+t without pa.s.sing out. Unless they had practice,” he remarked.
He was correct.
I didn't answer.
He lifted a hand, used the tip of a finger to slide my hair away from my temple and my cheek as he spoke.
”You're a grown woman, Frannie. You don't have to take that. Why didn't you put a stop to it? h.e.l.l, why'd you go down there at all?”
That, I answered.
”Because my brother wouldn't be able to take it.”
There was a change in his gaze. A glittering hardness that I found fascinating.