“Every night this week?”
“Yeah, what of it?” It wasn’t like she really cared about my mental health. Sure, she seemed to care about me and my unborn child’s physical health, but that was probably just to protect her own hide. We both knew what would become of her if she let anything happen to me when she could have prevented it.
Probably sensing she wasn’t going to get any more out of me about my nightmares, Nala wisely changed the subject. “Have you been drinking your tea?”
It was then I did meet her blue eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “No. And you know I haven’t because it’s plain to see that the supply hasn’t been diminishing.” Before she could say anything, I cut her off. “But the morning sickness symptoms seem to have passed, so I don’t think I need it anymore.” I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her when I was done talking. How very mature of me.
A flash of something I couldn’t quite decipher crossed her face before she slumped casually against the door jam. Maybe just a little too casually. “It’s probably best to be sure. You don’t want to raise suspicions, do you?”
“I’m done with that heinous tea,” I responded flatly. That stuff alone could serve as a form of birth control. Just let the would-be-mom get a whiff of that stuff and tell her she’d have to drink it every day to prevent morning sickness and she might rethink the whole wanting to have kids thing . . . forever. “Damn it!” I swore when I caught some hair in my bracelet for the umpteenth time. I set the curling iron down and pulled the pieces of hair out of the bracelet that were still attached to my head. Sadly, a few didn’t make it and I let them drop into the sink.
“Why don’t you just take that off until you’re done with your hair?” Nala asked in a tone one might use to talk to a small child.
“I would if I could,” I said, ignoring her condescending attitude and setting back in to finish doing my hair. It took me so much longer than when Jenna did it, and it never looked even half as good either. “If I take it off, Khol would be here probably before I even set it down.” I sighed and turned the curling iron off. My hair was about as good as it was going to get—with me being the stylist anyways.
Nala looked up sharply at me. “What do you mean?”
Wow. She really was afraid of Khol, wasn’t she? “Don’t worry, my birth mother let me know that I wasn’t to take it off at all. She—”
“Is that why he can’t find you?” Nala interjected. Her face visibly went a few shades paler than it had been a moment ago.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. But like I said, there’s no reason to worry. My—”
“No,” she interrupted me . . . again. Rude much? “That’s not what I’m asking, entirely. How does it keep him from tracking you?”
I gritted my teeth and decided not to scold her for interrupting me—twice in a row. I guess she was just worried. “It breaks the connection that exists between Khol and me . . . He can’t sense my emotions, and he can’t track me. He’s totally cut off.”
Her eyes flared a brighter dragon blue before she looked away from me and mumbled to herself. “All connection to him. Shit.”
“What?” I said with alarm as I tried to interpret the dark expression on her face.
“Nothing,” she said with irritation as she spun on her heel to leave. “Don’t worry about it.”
Before I had a chance to say anything else, the door to the room that she’d been staying in slammed shut behind her. I stared after her for a moment before letting my gaze drop to the shiny bronze bracelet that was fitted perfectly on my wrist. I let the fingers of my right hand run idly over the delicate markings I was convinced meant something, I just wasn’t sure what. I wondered how much longer I’d have to wear it. Not that it wasn’t pretty, it was just that I hated being forced to do . . . well practically anything.
My phone beeped signaling me that I had a text. I hit the unlock code and read the message from Laila. “Be there in 5.”
“K,” was my quick reply. I gave myself one more once over in the mirror before heading out of the bathroom. My hair looked somewhat presentable . . . At least it was better than the first couple of times I’d attempted to style it. My make-up also was done . . . adequately. I still hadn’t figured out my new color palate completely, but that was only something time would fix. My black lace tee fit me snuggly, showing off the few curves I did have, but it wasn’t too tight, and looked the right combination of dressy and casual when paired with the dark low-waisted jeans I had on. The dragon pendant from Khol sat at the perfect level to draw more attention to my cleavage than I probably wanted, but I refused to leave it behind. My outfit was completed with a pair of knee high, low heeled, black, zip-up boots. It was warmer this time of year than I was used to, but I wasn’t wearing open-toes shoes going into a nest of Riders. What if I needed to run, or kick, or something? One did not wear open-toed shoes of any kind when heading into enemy territory of the alien kind. If there was a how to survive a party with alien Riders somewhere, I’m sure that rule would be in it. Once I was satisfied that I looked the best I could under the circumstances, I made my way outside to wait for Laila on the front porch of the creepy Murder House.
I was only outside for a minute or two when a big black pickup truck pulled into the driveway. The window rolled down, and Laila’s blonde head peeked out. “Well, are you coming, or what?” she said with excitement laced into the tone of her voice.
I shut my mouth and shook my head. What had I expected, a Volkswagen Bug or something? She might remind me of Jenna at times, but she most certainly wasn’t her, not by a long shot. I went and opened the door to the massive truck and pulled myself up into it, barely managing to shut the door before Laila was burning rubber to get out of my driveway and to the party. I for one would have preferred a more leisurely pace; I wasn’t one to rush off to the end of the world . . . even if it was only the theme of a party. Once I had my seatbelt in place, I turned to eye Laila’s outfit. She had gone with a cute little red dress and cowboy boots. Ugh. I knew it seemed to be the style down here, but I cringed every time I saw a girl rocking out cowboy boots with a skirt. But then again, maybe I should have tried a little harder to blend in. I tried to picture myself in similar attire and cringed. Nope . . . never going to happen.
“You look nice,” Laila said interrupting my inner fashion diva. “Just how far along are you anyways; you don’t seem to be showing at all.”
I bit my lower lip. That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? If I actually knew how far along I was then I would know who the father of my unborn child was . . . maybe . . . There was still that whole dragon versus human gestation difference thing. Not that it mattered anymore though, I’d already made up my mind that I would be with Bryn, no matter who the father was. I just hoped Khol and Bryn both would go along with that, especially if Khol turned out to, in fact, be the daddy. “I’m not exactly sure.” I decided to go with another partial truth. “If I knew exactly then I would know who the father is.”
Laila nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
I slumped down in my seat, hating that Laila had reminded me of my “who’s the daddy” predicament. Not that it was ever entirely from my mind lately, but even still, I didn’t want to focus on something I couldn’t do anything to change. “Yeah, um, talking about that doesn’t really put me in the partying mood.”
Laila’s cheeks flushed a dark crimson that I could easily see with only the aid of the streetlights we were passing under. “Sorry,” she mumbled.