I rolled my eyes to the ceiling before remembering that I did not pray to God. Frankie had not been a pleasant person to work with, it seemed.
Chloe turned around, finally realizing that Riley was not by her side. Chloe hissed her friend’s name until it got the petite Latina’s attention. Riley gave me a look of sympathy before she swanned off to join her friend.
I chose a chocolate bar and a banana for my lunch, not trusting the green beans after Gary caught my eyes from across the room. I specifically picked up a blue energy to taunt Remi with. I had noticed that he had been avoiding them since my mouth wash prank.
Hugo and Remi sat alone on a table in the corner. Heads hunched over in private conversation. When I was halfway across the room, I realized that maybe I should not disturb them. My fear evaporated when Remi glanced up and waved me over with a bright smile. Despite my insistence on keeping some distance between myself and the Hunters—I found myself poking the hornet's nest.
I danced over, placing my bright blue Gatorade on the table in front of Remi. His hand reached out.
“Mine.” I sang, snatching it away.
Remi widened his eyes, affecting a puppy dog stare. “Frankie...” He coaxed with his deep voice. Molasses and the lowest piano note. “Want to trade?” Remi pushed a reusable coffee mug in my direction. Steam curled into the air. Caffeine was hard to ignore—especially when it came in a form that wouldn’t turn my tongue blue.
“The coffee machine is out of order.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Brought this from home.”
I plucked the plastic mug from the table. Pushing the blue energy drink in Remi’s direction. I peeled my banana and ate it slowly. Winking when Remi caught my eye.
I felt eyes on the crown of my skull. I glanced up at Hugo. The incubus stared down at his food, awkwardly pushing a tater tot from one end of his tray to the other. “Hewey-loo.” I beamed. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Remi gave me a look that informed me that my aloof attitude was coming off as anything but. Did Hugo know I had spent most nights outside his dorm, straddling the desire to talk to him? To claim him as my mate and reveal all my darkest secrets, all while battling my inner coward. The little voice that demanded that I run far and fast—possibly stealing as much as I could on the way.
I'd once spotted a small armored tank in the parking lot. I didn’t know what I would do with a tank, but I could think of something.
“Frankie,” Hugo nodded stiffly and did not meet my eyes.
My brow scrunched. “I thought that you'd been cleared after the attack?”
Hugo hummed non-committedly. His attention was elsewhere. A shard of hurt nestled itself between my ribs. Hugo had seemed so awed when he had danced with my starlight. Tangled with my darkness as he had shown me his own troubled past.
I wondered if I had done something to upset him—it took a few moments before I realized that I was Frankie at that moment. Not the Mara that Hugo knew.
Hugo stood up, gave a half-hearted wave, and a whispered goodbye. His head ducked down as he bussed his tray and walked away.
“Hugo is quieter than usual,” I noted thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Remi shrugged. “Apparently, he's been having some side effects from his run-in with the Ifrit.”
“Like what?” I demanded. Thinking of the blood that I had given Hugo and all of the ways in which that had possibly gone wrong.
Remi's gaze turned uncharacteristically shrewd. “Incubus dreams.” He squinted. “Why? Do you know anything?”
I shook my head, my lips pulled into a false smile. I did not think he bought it.
“He'll be right as rain soon, love.” Remi patted my head, messing up my hair with a gruff chuckle. “I’ve only just met the guy, but I can tell he isn’t an arsehole. He'll be back to your friendly Sinclair in no time.”
I shifted in my seat, turning back to my meal. “Whatever.” I lifted my coffee and blew the steam away from the top, I took a deep slug and turned back to my food.
I paused. The coffee was odd. Different. My eyes widened, and I gagged. A metallic taste filled my mouth as blood pooled in my throat and made it hard to breathe.
“Ha! Got you!” Remi jumped up, pumping his fist. “I went against my British roots and went for the old salt in the coffee trick that you Americans love much—” He rambled.
My chest heaved, and the tight press of my lips spluttered. A mouthful of blood dripped from my teeth. The spittle flew across the table and marred the faded cream table surface.
Remi's face fell. He darted forward. “Frankie?” He whispered in horror. “Oh my god. Frankie?!”
My esophagus was burning with the fury of a thousand papercuts. Blood continued to pour from my lips. Demons and salt did not mix.
For a second, I had believed that I had been poisoned again. Instead, it was a prank gone wrong. A joke that would reveal my true nature. I scrambled back, fight, or flight instincts battling against one another.
Darkness edged around my vision. I reached forward to grip the table as the world tilted sideways. Remi cradled my body, whispering frantic and rhythmic magical words.
He swore under his breath. My eyes struggled to focus. I felt a warm drop on my face. A tear. I reached up to touch Remi's face. Staring into his impossibly dark eyes, I passed out.
I woke up, wrapped in a scratchy blanket. Swathed in the scent of disinfectant. Moaning, I brought my hand to my mouth. My throat constricted, causing me to wince. Salt restricted Demon magic. If the pain was anything to go by, my accelerated healing had been compromised.
My eyelids felt heavy like two little gnomes had decided to set up camp on my face.
The faint smelt of burning plastic, tinged with sage and lavender, hung on the air. Like an out of date air freshener.
“Frankie?” Hugo whispered gently when I opened my mouth to test my facial muscles. The shock of his voice made my eyes open wide.
The incubus sat in a visitor’s chair in the corner. He glanced over to the closed curtain. “Remi just stepped out,” Hugo informed me as if I had asked a question. “He’s been using too much magic.”
Hugo Sinclair looked anywhere but in my eyes. In fact, he seemed to be deliberately avoiding them. Too many possible reasons fluttered around my mind, like chaotic butterflies.
“Do you want some water?” He asked, already moving to the jug on the bedside cabinet. Hugo did not wait for a response before pushing a Styrofoam cup into my hands, awkwardly sloshing water over my hand.
I reached out, as if on instinct, and gripped his sleeve with my free hand. The connection, a tugging hook under my third rib, flared to life.
Hugo jerked back.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered, unable to speak at a reasonable volume due to the damage in my throat.
Hugo swallowed before closing his eyes and exhaling. “We’re friends, right?”
I cocked my head to the side and stayed silent. Deciding to save my voice.
“We went out once. As friends. To a bar. You tease me. You smart off. You've completely and infuriatingly changed since you came back from the hospital, but still—” Hugo's cheeks flushed pink as he stopped his sentence mid-word. He clenched his fists and took a step back. “Remi told me that you came to see me after I was attacked. That you were wearing...” he waved a hand and made a pained noise. “Almost nothing.”
I quirked a brow. I'd once bent over and shown a bellhop the ball sack of a middle-aged Italian gangster. Nudity meant less than nothing to me.
Hugo continued. “You’ve been hanging around the officer's dormitories. Trying to see me. The cameras show that you've been there every night. I would like you to stop.”