Page 53 of Depths of Obsession
She glances toward the edge of the roof, fear evident in her eyes as the voices grow even closer.
“Three,” I growl, starting to rise, and finally, she steps forward, and climbs onto my back. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I scoop up her legs, holding her piggyback style. “Hold on tight,” I say, the sound of yelling growing louder. I move to the far edge of the roof and turn around.
It’s been a long time since I ran while carrying someone—not since we were kids, and Nico had gotten hurt. I’m not worried about the weight—Pippa weighs next to nothing—but it’s strange, knowing she’s relying on me entirely. If something happens, she can’t save herself.
“Are you sure?” Her voice is a shaky whisper, fear lacing every word.
“Yes.” The sound of gunfire erupts, and I take off across the roof. I run as fast as I can, launching us off the edge. The wind whips around us, cold and biting, as I pick up speed. I head for my place on the coast. It will take a bit to get there—it’s not instantaneous, like using the magick realm. That’s why I used it when Pippa was in trouble. It takes a lot less time, but traveling within its confines leaves me weak, and I can’t take her there. Not yet. Too many questions, and I don’t have the answers.
I glance over my shoulder, and Pippa has her face buried against my back. Probably better that way.
She raises her head, her voice barely audible over the wind. “W-we’re flying?”
“Sort of.” I don’t bother to explain. I can do that later. Instead, I put my head down and pick up speed. Ten minutes later, I slow, landing on the grass behind my beach house. I come to a stop and slowly squat down. Pippa doesn’t let go. “Pippa, we’re here. You’re safe. You can let go now.”
She says nothing, her arms still tight around my neck.
“Pippa?” I turn to look over my shoulder at her, concern lacing my voice.
“I… I think my hands are frozen. I can’t feel them.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about the temperature. It wasn’t cold for me, but I don’t experience it the same way humans do. “Okay, hold on.” I take the steps to the terrace two at a time and knock on the back door. Harry, my butler, answers.
“Mr. Valdici, I didn’t realize you were coming this evening.” He glances at Pippa but doesn’t comment.
“Neither did I. Run a warm bath for my guest, please. And make her some tea.” I start up the stairs. “And soup? Do we have any soup?”
“I will take care of it,” Harry says as I reach the top of the stairs.
I turn right, leading Pippa down the hall to my bedroom. The room is large, with a king-sized bed draped in dark, plush blankets, the walls painted in warm, earthy tones. Soft light spills from the lamps, casting a gentle glow. “Okay, little one. I’m going to set you down on the bed and then slide out from under your arms.” I do as I say, which is awkward, but successful. I turn to face her.
Her fingers are interlaced, her knuckles white. They aren’t frostbitten, but they’re cold, and her eyes are wide, staring but unseeing. She’s terrified, her body trembling.
Harry knocks softly before entering. He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the water start to run. The scent of lavender wafts out, calming, and I know a warm bath will help. I just have to figure out how to calm her down enough to get her in there.
“Sir,” Harry says, nodding toward Pippa, “might I suggest a bit of bourbon or whisky?”
I nod, grateful. “Good idea.”
“Very good, sir. I will have the rest ready when it’s needed.”
“Thanks, Harry.” God bless my butler. Best Firangelis ever.
I take a deep breath, turning back to Pippa. “Okay, little one. I think a warm bath will help. I’m going to stand you up now.”
She blinks, her eyes focusing slightly, and then nods. I help her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her to support her as we walk to the bathroom. The clawfoot tub is nearly full, bubbles foaming, steam rising. The scent of lavender fills the room, soothing.
“Little one,” I say as I help her down to the closed toilet seat. I motion to my eyes. “Focus on me.”
She nods again, her gaze meeting mine.
Harry appears at my elbow, and I take the bourbon from him. Then he backs out of the room closing the door behind him.
“Drink this,” I say and I hold the glass out to her.
She looks at her hands. “I can’t get my hands apart.” Panic laces her voice.
“Okay,” I say as I hold the glass to her lips and tip it up.
