34

I could say almost anything while she wasn’t looking. “I overheard Nic talking to some of his guys the other day…”

She lifted her head, her face now streaked with grime, and raised an eyebrow. “You overheard?”

My face heated. “Yeah. He was on the phone in the other room…”

She’d disappeared back into the box and started taking out books that looked like they needed delicate handling and just allowing them to thump to the floor. “You were waiting outside a room while he was on the phone?”

“Yeah.” I’d been eavesdropping—Aimée and I both knew it—but I just needed to style it out. “And it sounded like the war with New Orleans, against Francois, is escalating. Do you know anything about what’s going on?”

She paused again, long enough to cast me a skeptical glance, her eyebrow raised. “Don’t you think that might be a question for Nicky?”

I huffed out a sigh. “He won’t tell me anything. Just keeps saying to stay out of it and let him handle it. But…”

“But what?” Her tone was muffled now. “You think your weak human bones will somehow be strong enough in a fight against a vampire? Or that you can resist compulsion? Or that Nicky would ever forgive himself if you got hurt or worse?”

Every one of her words made sense, but they still chafed. I wasn’t used to backing down from a fight and I certainly wasn’t used to sitting one out completely. Especially not one like this. One that could be my…

“I think I caused this, though,” I blurted. “I think it might be my fault.”

Aimée chuckled. “Aw, honey, Nicky and Francois are always looking for a reason to go to war. Sometimes, I think they built their reasons for even being alive into an age-old fight for dominance in the region… And with Francois succumbing to madness and his father in stasis for at least another…” She checked her watch. “Hell, at least another fifty years—with no real guarantee he’ll emerge at all—what better time for Nicky to make his play? He can be vengeful and purposeful all at once.”

I opened my mouth to reply, because surely there was some role I could take, make things easier for Nic, but Aimée squealed excitedly. “Pay dirt. I knew this old thing still existed somewhere.”

She used two hands to haul a huge book out of the box.

I looked at it for a moment—old and grimy and bound in flaking leather. The pages were choppy and different sizes, and something was embossed on the cover. “What is it?”

Aimée hugged it to herself, a huge grin on her face. “Nicky’s Book of Gray. He needs it now more than ever. A war, a true mate… It’s all going on. I bet he’s forgotten this thing even exists. It’s been so long since any of my family has needed to check the old lore.” She glanced at her watch again. “He should be home soon. Let’s go back downstairs and wait for him.”

I nodded and stood, my excitement level already rising at the thought of seeing Nic. My stomach grumbled, too, and Aimée laughed. “I’m sure Chef will be very happy to hear that sound.”

I flipped off lights as we left the attic and shut the door to the stairs behind us, but Aimée stopped suddenly in the upstairs hallway, her nose tilting up.

“Vampire blood,” she growled. “Something’s wrong. You need to wait in your bedroom while I check things out.”

She almost pushed me through the door as I rolled my eyes. But I’d listened to her earlier words about my fragile human bones, and part of me agreed.

“Lock it,” she murmured, and I turned the key, suddenly all alone in the quiet of my room.

No noise seeped here from the rest of the house, and I had nothing to do but wait. I didn’t wait with good grace, though. I tapped my foot and paced a little, then finally leaned against the wall right by the doorframe, my arms folded and ankles crossed.

Finally, there was a knock at my door. “It’s me.”

Nic! I twisted the key and ripped the door open, wrapping my arms around him. He winced and drew away.

“What?” I pulled back and looked at him properly. A tear in his shirt exposed part of his side and abs, and I reached out tentatively to get a closer look. Blood was starting to congeal around the wounds but those were definitely…definitely… I lifted my gaze and met his. “Claw marks.”

He nodded briefly, affirmative but not explanatory.

Panic rushed through me, burning like the coldest of icy flames, as I tried to draw him to the bathroom. “Let me clean your wounds. We’ve got a medical kit, right?”

“I’ve got it.” His voice was gruff, and I blinked back tears.

“Please, Nic.”

He met my eyes again and his gaze softened as his brushed a thumb under my eye. “Don’t cry, Leia. I heal quickly. There probably won’t be anything for you to see by the time you find the medical kit.”

I sniffed, feeling ridiculous. Of course he healed quickly. But still… “I can clean your skin. And you shouldn’t be hurt in the first place. Is it because of me? Because of what Francois did?”

His jaw tensed, but his eyes were blank, and he didn’t resist as I stood him in the bathroom and began to unfasten his shirt. When it hung open, I soaked a washcloth in warm water and wrung it out before dabbing gently at Nic’s skin. Soon, the water was a pale shade of pink, but he’d been right. There was little of the original wound left.

I trailed my fingertips over his smooth skin, away from the healing marks, and his muscles contracted.