Page 12 of Stone Cold Touch

With a sinking feeling, I had a real bad idea about who Tomas was...or used to be. Oh dear. I started to shuffle toward the stairs, but Zayne’s deep, husky laugh drew my attention.

He was in the library with Geoff, our resident techie and gadget gargoyle, and his father. Some of our other clansmen were there. Abbot sat behind the desk, rolling a cigar between his fingers. It was unlit. He never smoked them, just seemed to like handling them.

Zayne was standing with his back to the door, next to a beautiful dark-haired female Warden—the kind of beauty that made me feel blah on a good day. Danika was leaning into him and smiling as one of the clansmen told a story.

I didn’t know what kind of story. I was never included in the tales. And the only times I’d been in Abbot’s library recently were when I was getting lectured about one thing or another.

My feet felt funny as I stood in the hallway. “Zayne?” My voice also sounded weird. The handkerchief seemed wetter.

Turning around, the smile on Zayne’s face froze. “Layla?”

I knew I probably looked like death chewed up and spit back out. I nervously glanced at Danika, not daring to look at Abbot. “C-can I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

“Yeah. Hold on just a sec.” He twisted back to Danika and then his father, who was most likely giving himthatlook. The look that saiddon’t you dare walk away from Danika, your future baby mama.“I’ll be back.”

She nodded, nibbling on her lip. “It’s okay. Are you?”

That question was directed at me, and I think I said something in the affirmative. I hobbled past where Dez and the new guy stood with Jasmine, not waiting on Zayne. If I didn’t sit down, I was going to fall down.

With my good hand, I clenched the banister as I started up the stairs. Zayne was right beside me, head bent low as he spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Uh...” A few more steps. A few more steps. “Not really.”

Moving closer to me, he sucked in a breath. “I smell blood. You’re bleeding.”

“Kind of,” I squeaked. As he started to turn back around, no doubt to sound the alarm, I said, “Don’t say anything yet. Please.”

“But—”

“Please.”

Zayne swore under his breath, but kept coming up the steps. “How bad?”

“Uh...”

We rounded the second landing, and once we were out of sight, Zayne bent and gathered me up in his arms. Any other time, I would’ve pitched a fit, but the whole “bleeding and being in pain” thing kept me quiet.

“I need a little detail,” he said, heading straight for his room—not mine—his.I was a little distracted by that as he shuffled me against his chest and opened the door. “Talk to me, Layla. I’m starting to freak out.”

When he toed the door shut behind him, I forced my tongue to work. “I think I might’ve been stabbed.”

“You think?” he shouted.

I flinched. “Okay. I was.”

“Jesus.” He sat me down on the edge of his bed. Over his shoulders, the wall-to-wall bookcase was overflowing with books. “Where? Where is it?” But he was already searching with his eyes and hands. When he reached my upper arm, I yelped. “Shit.” He pulled back his hand and his fingers were smeared in red. “Why didn’t you tell Nicolai?”

“It’s not that bad, right?” I looked down, but the black material hid the damage.

Zayne took the soaked scarf from me and dropped it on the wood floor. “I don’t know. I need to take your top off.”

I raised my brows at that.

He shot me a bland look as he brushed his hair back with his forearm. “And you need to tell me how this happened.”

“I was near Dupont Circle and—do you really need to take my top off?” I asked as he reached for the hem of my sweater.

Zayne looked up, his blue eyes bright with determination and his normally golden skin a shade or two paler. “Yes. It’s in the way.”

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