Chapter 9

Head down, eyes tearing at the light pressure on the back of her head, Helena tried not to move as Russell lifted the icepack and inspected her skull. The dark bruise on her cheek was brushed off, trivial, even though Russell had made a face when he’d first seen it and asked her twice if she’d fed the night before. She assured him she had and left it at that. He didn’t need to know more.

She kept thinking on how many times Candy kept things like this to herself. More than once Helena had seen her with a split lip, eyes swollen shut, moving like everything hurt. She’d always hedged when asked about it. It was why Helena hadn’t put too much stock in their friendship. How can you be friends with someone you know nothing about?

Only with Candy gone, only in retrospect, did she understand. She’d been a friend, a teacher. What she and Tar had taught her could be used beyond the streets. They could be used in times like this, when the truth could kill her, like how the truth could kill a mouthy hooker. In times where she needed to turn a blind eye and pretend to see no evil, as would a wrinkled old man who could watch horrors unfold and never be seen as a threat.

She would lie. She would be blind. She would live. Damn it she’d make the whore and the bum proud.

The diagnosis was that the blow to her head had cracked her skull, but it looked like it was healing well so she shouldn’t worry. Tall glass of blood in hand she was sent to her room, red faced at Russell’s not so subtle suggestion that she get changed. She sipped and used the glass to hide her face, very aware of all the curious eyes that followed her until she got to her room. The outfit might have given her confidence at the club. Here it made her feel like a freak.

Grime still covered her from sleeping in basements, but she couldn’t get up the nerve to leave the room again, dressed as she was, to go take a shower. Which meant putting fresh clothes on and praying that would be enough to get her past the door. That in mind, she went through her dresser and picked out an outfit that didn’t contrast with the image the boys of Bartow had of her. A skirt and a silk shirt. Jogging pants and a big sweater were tempting, but she didn’t want to advertise how uncomfortable she’d been under their scrutiny.

With her clothes laid out on her bed, she reached behind her neck to undo the tie for the halter top. The door opened and she left it. One glance over her shoulder made her wished she’d gotten changed faster.

Arms crossed, David‘s gaze raked over her. Shaking his head, he pushed the door closed behind him. “I guess I don’t need to ask what you were doing last night.”

Snatching her clothes off her bed, she hugged them to her chest and turned to face him. “Don’t you already know, sire?”

David’s eyes took on a faint glow, passing through the dark blue of his eyes like candle light under thin velvet. “No, I don’t know. While my people were thinned out looking for you, my runners risking their lives breaching enemy territory, the East End was attacked—”

“And Venom came to the rescue.” She made a face, trying to picture Leyla and her little Barbie clones being of any use in a gang fight. The dull throb in the back of her head reminded her that they were more capable than they looked.

“If they hadn’t more people would be dead!” David took a deep breath and clenched his fist when his hands shook. “I never thought saving you would cost me this much.”