Eventually the group could roll up the windows again. In sharp contrast to the barbed tension and outright antagonism from earlier, the others were really very good about it all—patient and concerned, and without a hint of irritation.
So at least she had made some progress.
The temperature warmed as they traveled south, but the day never brightened. They drove into a steady drizzle, again in almost perfect contrast to her previous trip. This time too there was no need to stop at a superstore for supplies—a pair of mated Wyr had traveled down a couple of days earlier to prepare the estate Dragos had rented. The couple would keep house and provide any cooking that the group would need, which included high-end catering for any guests Pia might invite. They were especially versed in vegan cuisine and coached to provide meals for Pia that were high in protein.
Charleston was a gray smear of rain-dulled cobblestone streets, the windows of gracious homes shining with warm, golden light.
The estate had a large historic home that was beautifully built and attractively positioned on an acre of land, and surrounded by a decorative black wrought-iron fence. She knew the details, at least on paper, and she had seen several digital photos. There were six bedrooms, four full baths, a large dine-in kitchen, a full formal dining room, a formal living room/parlor, a family room with a fireplace, a back terrace and an “in-law” apartment over a detached garage where their housekeeping Wyr would stay.
As the group pulled up the driveway, Johnny pointed out that the house was also positioned well for defense, with a minimum of landscaped foliage around the bottom of the building. She pretended to listen, but mostly she was busy soaking in the sight of their own golden lights shining in welcome in the windows.
Miguel, Hugh and Andrea went into the house first while the rest of them waited, their SUV idling halfway down the drive in case they needed to pull out quickly. As soon as Miguel appeared again in the front doorway and waved an all clear, they headed in.
The interior was a blur, and so were the two Wyr who waited with expectant smiles to greet her. She was sure the whole place was perfectly, outrageously splendid, because gods forbid that the Lord of the Wyr’s mate stay anywhere else. Dragos had probably bought an entire house full of linens, housewares, antiques and crazily expensive artwork just for the duration of her stay. In fact she would bet money on it. He wouldn’t allow any Elven guests—or potential spies—to witness anything differently.
At the moment she didn’t care, and she didn’t want to know. She could scent a whole array of cooked food, including meat, which smelled good while at the same time it made her nauseated all over again.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done to get ready for our arrival,” she told the man and woman. She would ask one of the others for their names again later. “And I would enjoy a tour some other time. Right now I need to go to my room. Would you please bring a supper tray up for me?”
“Of course!” said the woman. “Please come with me.”
Pia followed her up the stairs along with Eva, while the others brought in their luggage. As soon as the woman had shown her the way, she left with a smile and the promise to return in a few minutes.
Naturally Pia had been given the master suite, and it was—as she’d known it would be—perfectly splendid, decorated with an array of her favorite colors, a large four-poster bed, two beautifully preserved antique wardrobes, a cozy sitting area around a fireplace with a hearth inlaid with hand-painted tiles and a luxuriously appointed bathroom.
Pia walked to the bathroom doorway and contemplated the toilet. Eva took one thoughtful look at her then went around the suite opening windows.
“Thanks,” she said without looking around.
“It always this bad?” The other woman sounded leery.
“No.” She stirred, inhaling the cold waft of air deeply. “Usually it’s nowhere near this bad. The trigger was smelling the meat again on an empty stomach, on top of traveling in the car all day. Now that we’re not traveling anymore, it’ll probably go away if I can manage to eat something.”
Hugh sidled into the room with her luggage and set the two suitcases in front of one of the wardrobes. She thanked both him and Eva, sent them off to their own suppers, and relished the privacy as they closed the door behind them. As soon as they were gone, she pulled out her iPhone and typed out a text.
We’re here.
Within moments, her iPhone pinged with a reply.
How are you doing?
She smiled to herself. Dragos never used abbreviated words in his texts.
Fine. Tired. That’s GOOD.
She had a brief impulse but backed away from it. He also wasn’t somebody you LOL’d at.
I’m going to eat, clean up and go to bed. You?
The same. See you soon.
All she had to do was text with him and read those simple words, and her stupid pulse started racing. Stop. Stop. Adrenaline would wake her up.
A knock sounded at the door. She said, “Yes?”
“I have your supper,” said the woman whose name she had forgotten. “Would you like me to leave it here in the hall?”
“No, that’s all right.” She walked to the door to open it. “I appreciate you bringing it up. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The woman carried the tray in and set it on the small table by one of the two armchairs in front of the fireplace. “Did you find the TV?”
“No,” Pia said. The smells emanating from the covered dishes on the tray were good in all the right ways, and her stomach rumbled as she sniffed appreciatively. She confessed, “I’m so tired I forgot your name.”
The woman smiled at her. “It’s Fran. Shall I help you unpack, or would you rather wait until tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow would be great, thanks.”
Fran showed Pia the cleverly designed panel over the fireplace that hid a flat screen in a recessed area. “If you would like to set your tray outside your door when you’re through, I can pick it up later without disturbing you again.”
“Perfect.”
She waited until the other woman had closed the door, then she uncovered the dishes. Supper was a southern-style red beans and rice dish, with slices of spicy tofu sausage, a spinach and tangerine salad and a peach cobbler. Pia’s nausea vaporized. She fell on the feast and didn’t stop until it was all gone.
A full stomach and a hot shower later, she opened up one of her suitcases. She had stolen one of Dragos’s T-shirts out of the hamper and wrapped it in a plastic bag. Shaking out the voluminous black material, she slipped it on. It gapped at the neck and fell nearly to her knees, but she didn’t care what she looked like. The T-shirt carried his masculine scent, and almost immediately after she put it on, the knot of anxious tension eased at the base of her skull.
It would be all right. He had promised.
She closed most of the windows but left one cracked open, slid in between clean sheets and . . .
She lay there in the strange bed, listening to the quiet, distant sounds of strange people moving about in the strange house. A crazed, frustrated despair lurked around the edges of her mind, looking for an opening to sink its hooks into her and really wake her up.
That was the absolute worst thing, when she needed to go to sleep, she really needed it so badly that it interfered with her actually going to sleep. Then thoughts rabbited around in her mind like rabid bunnies on crack, and oh my gods, this trip was going to be one long-drawn-out hell if she didn’t sleep, except she had to sleep some time, didn’t she?