Page 54 of Heir of Ashes

“When do we leave?” I asked to break the silence.

“I was going to wait for my friend in Seattle, but I can still wait for him here. I’ve already left him a message updating him on the situation. Now, try to rest. You look exhausted.” He gave me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon. Sleep meanwhile,” he said, moving towards the door.

I was surprised he wasn’t staying but forced myself not to call after him. Maybe he was staying in another room and switching me to this one was just a precaution.

I watched the closed door for a moment, then moved to the window and pulled back the drapes, letting the morning light filter through. Our previous room had faced the parking lot and distant buildings, but this one faced the front of the hotel and main street. I stood there, wondering where Logan had been when he’d received that anonymous call.

I rubbed the palms of my hands over my face and pressed my heels against my eyes until I saw stars. I was exhausted. I needed rest. I turned and crawled into bed, determined to get a few hours of solid sleep.

***

I woke briefly when Logan slipped into bed behind me. I wanted to turn and face him, but the gentle stroke of his fingers through my hair and the warmth of his body pulled me into a deeper slumber.

The smell of coffee and toast woke me next. I stretched lazily and opened my eyes. The sun slanted into the room, indicating it was well past noon. Logan was propped up beside me, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and his laptop resting on his lap.

“Breakfast is ready. Join me,” he said, not looking away from the screen.

“What’s so fascinating?” I asked, shifting closer to see what he was reading.

“Some story about terrorists blowing up a military bus in the Mojave Desert. You made the news again, though in a much less glorified way than last time.”

“What?” I leaned closer for a better look.

“It says here that none of the SEALs inside were hurt. Listen to this: ‘All I can say is that whoever these terrorists are,they will soon be dealt with,” says General Jacob Parkinson, a veteran Field Marshal in the Iraqi territory. The bus was attacked just after midnight from multiple angles with sleeping gas and firearms. There are rumors of a very dangerous criminal escaping during the altercation, although nothing has been confirmed yet. Our source informs us that, despite the complete incapacitation of our highly-trained soldiers and the destruction of their transportation, there were no casualties as a result.’”

“I guess that doesn’t look too good for General Parkinson,” I yawned. As long as I wasn’t mentioned, the news didn’t bother me.

Chapter 18

Two slices of toast and a cup of coffee later, Logan was tossing me around the room like a rag doll. I hit the wall and slid down, wondering why I’d agreed to this.

“Get up. You need to learn some moves,” Logan said, frowning at me.

“It’s not like I can use my talons. Any strike with them could maim. That’s why I’m not hitting back.” I pursed my lips to keep from whining.

After a moment of silence, I looked up and found Logan smiling. That killer smile again.

“What?”

“You’re pouting. You’re adorable when you pout.”

I bristled. “I am not.”

“No? It looks like it from here. It suits you.” He smiled again, and I got up.

An hour later, I was cursing. “You baited me,” I growled, my voice muffled by the carpet as Logan held both my wrists behind me.

“Damn right,” he said smugly. He was enjoying this way too much.

I bucked hard, my shoulder joint protesting, but managed to unbalance him enough to flip and kick him off me. Then I lunged for his throat, my talons extending in the blink of an eye, poised and ready for the killing blow above his jugular.

He smiled at my triumphant expression, his eyes unguarded. Then his smile vanished, replaced by his carefully reserved mask. “And what if the next time that cursed bracelet they use affects you?”

“It didn’t on the bus yesterday.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How about shackles? Their iron is enforced steel.”

“Probably breakable.”

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