ChapterThirteen
SUNDAY
“Oh, God,” I murmured before opening my eyes. Sitting up slowly, I blinked through hazy vision, willing my gaze to focus.
A simple bedroom, one plain oak dresser, dark curtains covering the window. This was a far cry from the luxurious room where Noah had brought me. The only thing in this space that was luxe by any stretch of the imagination was the bed I woke up on. Large and soft. Like resting on a cloud. Except I didn’t know where I was. God, I had to stop waking up in strange places.
“Stay still, Miss Fallon.” Caleb’s voice tickled its way up my spine, sending an unwanted shiver through me. “You’ll tear your stitches.”
Stitches?
“What happened? Where am I?” The pain in my side brought it all back. “Kingston. Kingston tried to kill me. I knew he hated me, but not this much.” Panic had my voice tight and high.
“Calm down, Sunday. He’s not here. He’s gone.” Caleb sat on the side of the bed but didn’t touch me.
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“Kingston is dead?” Why did that make my heart ache?
Caleb shook his head. “No. He tried to save you.”
Why did I feel like I needed a roadmap to follow this conversation? “That doesn’t make any sense. He’s the one who stabbed me.”
“That wasn’t him. It was a hunter.”
I shook my head, trying to sit higher, to level the playing field as this priest loomed over me. “A hunter? But... I saw him.” The memory of Kingston shoving me back and driving the blade into my stomach flooded my mind. Along with another, fuzzier image of him on his knees beside me. His face tight with fear... for me. But even if he wasn’t the one who actually stabbed me, Kingston still hated me. Why would he care enough to come back and make sure I was okay? I shoved the questions away, in no state to sort through all the conflicting emotions they stirred to life, let alone try to answer them.
“How was he able to change his appearance? I thought hunters didn’t have abilities.”
“This one had some help.” He pulled something out of the pocket of his suit jacket and held his palm out to me. In the center of his hand was an amulet, the amethyst crystal now clouded with dark smoky residue.
“Witches? Why would they do this?”
“I’m not sure. But they were most certainly after you.” He tucked the necklace back into his pocket as he casually spoke. Like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in my lap.
“Me?”
Intense gaze trained on me, he licked his lips, and I forced myself not to squirm under his stare. I could barely breathe, but not due to pain. Father Caleb Gallagher was hungry.
“You.”
“Why would anyone want me? I’m a freak. A shifter who can’t shift. A joke.”
“We all want you.”
What did he mean bywe? I needed some time to unpack what he just said, but he reached out, the gesture making me flinch away on instinct. Pain sliced through my side, and I cried out before I could stop myself.
“Dammit, I said stay still.” Caleb’s palm rested on my shoulder, pushing me to my back, pinning me there as he pulled the sheet away and lifted the edge of the white T-shirt I was wearing.
“Caleb, where’s my dress? Did you undress me?”
He wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I had to. You were covered in...” He swallowed and took a shuddering breath. “Blood. It was everywhere. I’m surprised Thorne stopped when he did.”
The man next to me tensed as he focused on the gauze dressing on my abdomen. Blood seeped through, and the whole area was red and inflamed, even past the bandage.
“It’s infected,” he muttered. “You should heal faster than this. He gave you his blood.”