His next shrug came without any further explanation. Better. She wasn't squeamish, but his horror stories might be more than her stomach could handle.
"Do you need me to contact any of your associates? I mean, the amicable ones?" Surely he must have those.
He shook his head.
"You had a cell in your jacket. I left it with your discarded clothes."
He zeroed in on her, suddenly very alert. "You didn't turn it on, did you?"
"No."
His nod was curt. "Good."
They ate in silence. She managed to chomp down half a slice of pizza and some canapés while the guy polished off most of the rest, working methodically through the trays.
Watching him eat was hypnotic. Put her in a trance, actually. Or maybe it was the fact that she'd been running on fumes and was exhausted. She folded her legs underneath her and wrapped herself in a quilt, feeling warm and sleepy. There was a maximum of tension one could stand before everything crashed, and she was crashing, big time.
Chapter Three
"Going to lie down for a second," Paige mumbled and then dragged herself to the bedroom. Nico nodded, not moving from the sofa.
She locked the bedroom door and pushed at it three times to make sure it was closed. Not that it would stop him if he wanted to barge in. Taking a deep breath, she headed for the bed. In spite of everything, or maybe because of it, the second she lay down, she zonked out.
It felt like she'd just closed her eyes when she sensed movement near her.
Someone sat beside the bed. The room was dark, so she couldn't see his face.
"Nico?"
He stood and approached. Nico. "You fell asleep. Not very clever."
"What?"
"No sense of self-preservation," he continued, shaking his head. "Aren't you afraid? Because you should be."
Paige scrambled to sit, the hairs on her body standing up in fear. He looked deadly. No, not clever at all.
And what was that shiny thing in his hand? Oh shit, that was a knife.
"What are you doing?" she choked out.
"You should have run when you had the chance."
He jumped on her and straddled her, trapping her arms under the quilt and pinning her down. "Sorry about this, my vampire bride," he said, not looking sorry in the slightest while the tip of the knife pressed against her jugular, blood already dripping from her.
She screamed, trying to wrench away, but he had her immobilized, and all the movement made the knife dig deeper. He grabbed her hair to keep her head still, and, horribly, began to saw at her neck. But now her skin resisted him, suddenly tough and numb, and he kept sawing and sawing and sawing …
* * * *
Paige woke up crying out, fighting with the quilt. She was still on the armchair. Nico was beside her, shaking her shoulder, looking worried.
She brought her hands to her throat. No blood. And Nico wasn't wielding a knife. He was actually standing wonkily, holding his side.
"You okay?" he asked. "You were thrashing in your sleep."
It was darker in the living room, so she must have been out for several hours. "Just a nightmare," she answered, her voice a broken thread. Her whole body was trembling. Her heart was racing. She was freaking out.
Doing her damnedest to control her breathing, she looked at his harsh yet concerned face, the depth of the blue in his eyes. She'd cut the clothes off his body, emptied his pockets. Nico didn't have a knife. She knew it. And there wasn't anything sharper than a butter knife in the whole place except for the manicure scissors she'd ruined on his shirt. He hadn't drawn a knife on her; he would never. He was still mostly naked, pale, bleeding-
Blood was seeping from his wound. That snapped her out of it. "You're bleeding again."
"Forget it."
Paige ignored him. She needed something to take her mind off the nightmare and calm her down, or she was going to have a panic attack.
God, she hated how vulnerable those made her feel, how easily she went from normal to being a wreck. How her lizard brain took over and she lost all control. Rendered a shivering mess in a second. Absolutely hated it.
"Let's get you to the bed," she said. "You need to lie down, and I need space to change those bandages properly."
"I can take care of that myself."
Yep, he was used to relying on no one. Too bad that wasn't going to happen today. "I'm sure you can, but all that bending and twisting would burst your stitches, and you have no right to make me clean up after you again when you pass out. So shut up and let me do it."
It must have been her tone. Or the resolution in her face. Maybe both. Whatever the reason, she was glad he didn't put up a fight and walked slowly to the bedroom. He didn't stagger, and she got the feeling he was used to physical pain too.