The Evolution of Fae and Gods (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 3)

“Want to tell me why you were alone at the shop facing off with a Dark Fae at four-thirty in the morning?” he asks quietly, but I don’t miss the underlying edge of anger in his voice. Now that I’m safe, he has a handle on my injuries, and he knows a healer is on the way to handle the rest, he can focus some of his attention on my foolishness.

Trying not to get distracted when he has to push the edge of my panties at my hipbone out of the way so he can clean the entire scrape, I just admit the obvious. “I’m an idiot. I got a call from what I thought was a police officer telling me One Bean had been broken into. It never even occurred to me to question the truth of it.”

Carrick lifts his head, his expression full of mild disappointment. “You have got to stop rushing off on your own. That stupid stunt at Fallon’s gallery, and now this? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Glumly, I avert my gaze. “I know… and then the world will perish if I’m not around to thwart the prophecy.”

“No,” Carrick barks, and my gaze snaps to his. He’s livid. “Then, I’d have to live with the guilt of not protecting you.”

I hear pain in his voice. It alarms me enough that I raise to my elbows so we can have a conversation while making eye contact. “Carrick… I’m really sorry.”

The anger in his eyes bubbles, but then it starts to wane. Sighing, he gives a helpless shake of his head as he dabs more of the liquid on the hip scrape. “You have got to be more careful. Her being able to throw fireballs like that isn’t something a Dark Fae should be able to do. That was strong magic, and we don’t know what we’re dealing with. Now, more than ever, you have to be cautious since we know this fae has decided to take you out.”

“Because she knows,” I murmur, and Carrick’s head flies back up, eyes wide. “She said she’d heard some interesting things about me, and she knew I could see under her glamour.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “Did she say anything about the prophecy or feather?”

I shake my head. “No. Only that she was going to kill me… and not just for being a nitwit sister who is in her way.”

Shaking his head, face flush with both sympathy and determination, he says, “I’m sorry, Finley. But you can’t go anywhere on your own from now on. No telling when she’s going to come after you again.”

I lay back down on the bed, much of that peace and well-being he’d instilled in me drifting away. My eyes pin to the ceiling, afraid I might cry if I look at Carrick. “Where would I go?” My voice is petulant and morose. “One Bean is gone. I have nothing.”

“I’ll rebuild it for you,” Carrick replies softly, and my gaze moves to his. Nodding, he reiterates, “I’ll rebuild as fast as I can, okay?”

“Well, I mean… there’s insurance we’d have to navigate, and—”

“Fuck insurance,” Carrick mutters, putting his attention back to my wounds. “I’ll have the work started immediately. And we’ll pay the employees, so they don’t have to get other jobs. But, even if we could start rebuilding tomorrow, it’s still going to take a few months.”

I stare long and hard. Where had the dismissive, uncaring man gone? The man who I, not but a week ago, thought pretty much couldn’t stand me. The man who only does things if he gets a favor in return.

My eyes narrow. “What do you want in return for rebuilding?” I ask suspiciously.

Carrick’s head doesn’t lift, but he side-eyes me briefly before scoffing. “It’s nothing more than business, Finley. I have money invested in it. The sooner we open back up, the sooner we can be profitable again.”

I don’t argue with him even though I know he’s deflecting. No businessman starts a rebuild without waiting for insurance to pay.

He’s doing it for me.

I settle back onto the pillow, taking a moment to admit this only serves to validate my feelings. Because, somehow, I’ve gone and fallen for the big, immortal jerk… and while he says we could never work out, I know he cares for me, too.

“That should hold you over until the healer gets here,” Carrick says, capping the brown bottle and setting it on the bedside table.

He stands from his perch on the end of the bed and stares down, making me feel completely vulnerable in my bra and panties because he doesn’t act like a gentleman at all. He peruses the entirety of me, and, admittedly, it might just be to make sure he got all the cuts, but he certainly takes his time with it, which causes my skin to flush.