The bathroom had been her next stop. Here she found a well-stocked emergency kit, along with a stack of clean towels—also black—and an array of hotel-sized shampoo bottles. She’d selected a couple before turning on the shower. She stripped, showering off the day and washing her hair, before she changed into sleep shorts and a tank top.
Digging a frozen dinner out of the freezer, she reheated it in the microwave. The food, some sort of mashed potatoes and meatloaf, had desperately needed salt and pepper, but bland or not, it had done its job, filling her stomach.
Nikhail still hadn’t returned.
Now, River sat on the couch. She’d wrapped herself in a black fuzzy blanket, and her feet were curled under her. She yawned, glancing out the window. Pastels streaked across the sky, shoving away the darkness.
River struggled to stay alert. Her eyes were so heavy, her head was pounding, and exhaustion had woven itself into her bones. Each blink felt longer than the last.
Maybe if she just rested her eyes for a moment….
The sound of a lock tumbling was the next sound River heard.
Fuck. Despite her best efforts, she’d fallen asleep. River reached for the ceiling and arched her back like a cat as the door opened.
“Hey, Nik,” she said groggily. “How did it…”
Her words trailed off. She bolted to her feet, the blanket falling to the floor, forgotten, as Nikhail kicked the door shut behind him. The lock engaged, but River barely heard it over the rushing in her ears.
She was halfway to Nikhail before she’d made the conscious effort to start moving. The air fae sagged against the wall, and she reached him the next moment.
“Gods above, Nik,” she cursed, taking his arm. Her lingering drowsiness had vanished as though it had never existed in the first place. “What happened?”
Gone was the put-together fae who had left the safe house hours ago. Now, River understood why Nikhail had changed into all black before leaving.
The color was utilitarian in its style and purpose. Not only did it blend into the night, but it didn’t show blood. Or it wouldn’t, in normal circumstances.
Right now, the shirt was hanging in tatters over Nikhail’s shoulders, which didn’t do much to hide the crimson staining his skin.
And there was a lot of it. Countless scratches covered Nikhail’s face and arms, and the tang of iron was heavy in the air. She assumed his fae healing had already taken care of several of his wounds, so the fact that he was still injured spoke to the depths of his initial injuries.
River was less concerned about the scent of blood and more worried about the laceration on Nikhail’s forehead. It looked bad, even now. Another worrying cut peeked out from beneath the remains of the air fae’s shirt.
Nikhail stumbled past River, clutching at his chest and the worryingly dark material of his shirt.
“Things didn’t exactly go smoothly,” he admitted, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table.
A coffee order being mixed up was “things not going smoothly.” Hitting every red light when you’re already running behind.
Not this.
River rushed after him, disbelief crashing through her. “Nikhail, you have a talent for grossly underestimating things.”
He smiled weakly at her. “At least this time, my intestines are still in place.”
“That’s your bar? The fact that your internal organs are not currently trying to escape your body?” She gaped. “Oh, my fucking gods, Nikhail. You need to take better care of yourself.”
“And miss you looking after me? Never.”
This man.
This. Man.
River wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry or scream. What would Nikhail have done if she hadn’t been here, waiting for him?
A question for a later time.
“I’m going to pretend that you agreed to be more careful. Just… don’t move.” She held up a hand to emphasize her point. “Stay right there.”