Page 25 of The Night Runs Red

I didn’t know what to say, especially not when his stormy eyes landed on me. “Why were you so reckless?” he asked.

I shrank back into the pillows. “What’s that supposed to mean? We were ambushed, and I—”

“Why did you let him drink from you?” he exploded, leaning forward. He braced his arms on his knees. His usually polished appearance had vanished. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbow, showing off his forearms in a way that should have been illegal. However, amidst my ogling I noticed substantial burns darkening his skin and marring his tattoos. What had happened to him to create such damage?

“Do you realize what could have happened? You could have died!”

My thoughts evaporated as quickly as they had begun. “I could have died either way. I saw a possible way out, and I took it.” I fiddled with the edge of my sheets, avoiding his penetrating gaze as long as possible.

I knew what I’d done was reckless. If I could go back, I wondered if it would play out the same way. Either way, I was damn sure I didn’t need him yelling at me for the choices I couldn’t change.

He scoffed. “Do not be so naïve. That is a fool’s answer, and you do not strike me as a fool, Calia.”

Prick. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t known how terrified I was of meeting my demise or surviving in a world where Brielle no longer breathed. “I was trying to save Brielle. Jasper wasn’t healing fast enough, and Atlas had just been shot. I saw no other way out. And what happened to your own skin? Where did those marks come from?”

“That is not—” His phone began ringing, and he stared at the screen only a moment before answering. “Yes?”

The sound of a soft female’s voice came through, causing whatever restraint I had to dissipate. Not only had he taken a call in the middle of our conversation, but he had made my place in his life very clear.

“I have already told you,” he said, looking my way. “This weekend is not ideal. I will be in contact when I can accommodate you.” He ended the call, opening his mouth to speak again, but I was done.

I’d heard enough. A migraine was pounding relentlessly in my head, and I was in no mood to be chastis—especially by him.ed. I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath before interrupting, “Why do you care, Rion?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The door swung open, and my family rushed to my side with panic-stricken faces before Rion or I could say anything. They fussed over me for ten minutes, asking the doctors about my recovery. I’d been unconscious for two days and would be kept overnight for further observation. If nothing went wrong, I’d be released in the morning. Rion hadn’t moved from his seat in the corner, watching us all with careful eyes.

My aunt was talking so fast that I barely registered what she was saying. “I’ll make sure to get all of your favorite foods when I order groceries, and I’ll tell the staff to ready your room—”

“No.”

Every head in the room turned in Rion’s direction. “What do you mean ‘no’?” my aunt asked, crossing her arms.

“She is my wife, so she will be cared for in our home. Not yours.”

My aunt opened her mouth to argue, but I leaned forward and laid my hand on her arm. It wasn’t worth the argument that would ensue. More than anything, I didn’t want to put my aunt in the path of Rion’s anger. He was hardly reining himself in. I could tell by the taut veins in his forearm and the way his spine was perfectly straight. Occasionally, his index finger would tap against the plush leather.

“Is that what you want, little star?”

I turned toward my uncle and smiled. “I have no doubt I’ll be well cared for. Besides, you have Bri to take care of.”

My family left an hour later, needing to get Brielle home to rest. They’d been in the waiting room all day. Gods only knew how exhausted they must have felt. But I felt their absence even before they’d left. It loomed overhead like a dark cloud, especially knowing I’d be left alone with Rion.

Would he scold me? Berate me? Tell me I was foolish again? Thoughts swirled around and around, keeping me awake far longer than I should have been. He hadn’t spoken since he told my aunt I’d be going home with him, and I didn’t know what to say to break the bitter silence, so instead I closed my eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning, the doctor examined the lingering bruises. “Near perfect!” he remarked. “Have this prescription filled and take them as needed for pain.” He handed Rion a small slip of paper with my medication, using what was left of my time here to kiss my husband’s ass instead of talking to his actual patient. “Please don’t hesitate to call with any questions or concerns.”

“Assholes,” I murmured under my breath, pushing from the bed.

Rion gave him a tight nod before reaching for a bag underneath his chair I hadn’t noticed until now. He set it at the foot of my hospital bed. “I brought you a change of clothes.”

I was still clad in my hospital gown and didn’t know where the clothes I’d worn during the attack had gone. Opening the leather duffel, I pulled out a pair of soft black leggings, an oversized cashmere sweater, panties, and house slippers.

“Thank you,” I whispered, rising and moving to the bathroom to change. It felt fantastic to be in fresh clothes. I brought the sweater to my nostrils and inhaled deeply, lavishing in the clean lavender scent of the detergent. When I was done, Rion pushed off the wall and grabbed my hand before tugging me out the door.

His grip was tight as he intertwined our fingers. I wanted to pull away, but hesitated as we rounded the corner. Just outside the front doors, journalists stared through the glass. When we came into view, we were met with flashing cameras and shouting press. Rion opened an umbrella and pulled me closer. This time, I let him shield me, clinging to his shirt, which still smelled faintly of his cologne.

A black town car slid into the parking area, and security swarmed the area, pushing people back so we could pass. They shouted questions at us like I hadn’t just been in a traumatic accident. I don’t know why I was surprised; this was their job. It didn’t mean I had to like it, though.

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