Chapter Fourteen
Cora
It’s been two days and so far, so good. The guys haven't brought anyone around, and my scans came back mostly good with only moderate swelling directly around the injury sites. Time and rest with low-grade pain medication will eventually take care of it all. This time Jag took me, and since it was done in a different building, I couldn't visit Kael, which bummed me out, but I didn't have an excuse to go by there.
Now, my classes for the day are done, and I'm trying to decide if I should brave asking Blaise to take me to the library. I want to research past students for a genealogy project for my anthropology class, and weirdly enough, the online sites don't have much to go on, so my professor suggested trying the library as they have a dedicated section to alumni.
Blaise has been polite if mostly indifferent, but it's better than his previous asshole tendencies. Drake had to go meet with uncle, so I can't ask him, and Ash and Jag have been almost too attentive— hence the debate on who to get for a chaperone. I feel like a little distance will be a relief from them being up my ass. At least Blaise won't treat me like a china doll that needs to be tended to every minute we're together.
The matter is taken out of my hands as the door opens to two blond guys dragging in a half-conscious, battered Riggs.
"Jaeger! Drake!" the taller towhead yells once they're in with the door shut behind them. I'm standing frozen in the kitchenette with a glass of water in my hand.
They muscle him over to the couch as Jaeger, Ash, and Blaise burst from their rooms.
"You," the other blond snaps, pointing at me with one hand while wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of the other, “get water and towels to clean him up.” I hesitate, staring at the blood smeared across his face, assuming it’s Riggs’. “Now!” he snaps, making me jump and startling me out of the anxious flashbacks of the wreck.
The initial impact of the wreck may have rendered me unconscious quickly, but I’d seen the aftermath left on my body in a map of cuts, bruises, and abrasions. I shake my head, trying to dispel the panic attack the sight of Riggs is inducing. There isn’t time, Cora. Help now, freak later! Shakily, I get a bowl and turn the tap on to let the water get warm while I pull hand and paper towels out, carting them to the coffee table. My body automatically edges around the two newcomers. Something about them warns me off, and since I’m barely holding it together as it is, I don’t ignore my instincts. The guys are crowded around, asking what happened.
“We were following up on an errand for the chairman, and we split up. When we got back to the car, we found him like this laid out on the hood. There was a note left behind. Jaeger, we only brought him here first out of respect for you and Drake, but we’re going to have to report this." The man speaking is the one that initially yelled for Jag, and I'm completely lost as to what he's talking about.
Twisting my hands together and standing back, I try to interject, "Jag, he needs a hospital."
Jaeger is too busy looking Riggs over to pay me any attention, but the guy that was talking to him turns, brows wrinkling in confusion.
"He just needs to siphon and kickstart his—"
"That's enough, Tony," Jaeger sharply commands, turning from his kneeling position on the floor at Riggs' side to glare at Tony. "We'll handle it from here, thank you both. Ash, go with them and find out what you can and see if you can get Drake a message and get him back here."
Tony and his unnamed companion share a glance but begin to move toward the door without comment. I don't understand why they think Riggs doesn't need medical attention, but I suspect it has to do with what I saw the other night. Jag obviously doesn't want me to hear more than I already have, and now I'm torn between wanting to help, my own mental state, and considering following them to find out more.
My inquisitive gaze locks with Jaeger's, giving Ash time to lead the duo out without me. Decision taken out of my hands without being blatant, I hesitantly step toward the couch, stopping when I'm next to Jaeger-- Riggs is passed out, and my breathing picks up at the similarity to Kael.
"What can I do to help? Are we really not taking him to a hospital?" My panicked voice is loud in the quiet room as my eyes take in the cuts and swelling on Riggs’ handsome face. I can't lose him like this! We haven't had time to fix things. The very real prospect of him dying is tearing me up. As angry with him as I am, I'd thought he would just be there if, or when, I was ready to deal with our damaged friendship, and now the chance is slipping away with him. The instinct to do something has me reaching out to wet a cloth to start cleaning the worst of the blood off.
"Cora, can you please go to your room?" My hand pauses mid-swipe as Jaeger is on the receiving end of my astonished glare. Not that he notices as he's busy cutting off Riggs' sleeve with the scissors Blaise hands him.
"You're kidding me, right? You want me to sit in my room while you let him die?"
Neither he nor Blaise answer me. Jag is frantically pulling the leather bracelet off of Riggs' wrist, revealing his tattoo, and I know I don't want to miss whatever they're about to do. If it doesn't work I'm calling an ambulance and they can go fuck themselves.
"He's not pulling from me, and he's not healing. Are you getting anything?" Blaise directs his question to Jag like I'm not even there, and he shakes his head. “Fuck, I’ll get a kit.”
I’m pretty sure the marks they share should be lighting up if I’m piecing things together correctly, remembering that they’re part of the same group of whatever thing they have going on. When my fingertips graze Riggs' face, my palm tingles, causing me to jerk it away. The move catches the attention of the guys, and Jag glares at me.
"I told you to go." His tone is cold and unyielding. He sounds just like his father. My step-father had never been outright inappropriate or mean, but he'd get the same look and tone Jaeger is directing at me now, and I'd never been interested in finding out what would happen if I didn't listen.
However, arguing with Jag is nothing new, and I don’t back down.
"What exactly do you think you can do to help him that I can't be present for?" I'm not sure how either of them would have answered because as I'm making my point, I grab Riggs' arm— directly over his mark.
I cry out as my hand burns and muted blue light escapes around the edges. My eyes widen on the pulsing glow, and I try to pull my hand away, but can't seem to break the contact.
Blaise starts swearing when he races back from the kitchenette in response to my pained yell. "Damn you, Jaeger. What did you do?"
"It wasn't me! She grabbed him." Panic fills Jaeger's dark eyes as I begin to sway, feeling light-headed. "Cora, let go! Blaise, help me!"
My head goes spacey, and I'm not sure what they do or how long it lasts, but when the room comes back into focus, the coffee table has been shoved back and Jag and Blaise have their hands in mine. I swear I can feel the energy pushing into them and up my arms. It's more of that tingling from before, but instead of burning out of my palms, this is almost cool and seems to sink into my skin where we touch before delving into my veins. My questioning eyes meet Jag's somber ones.