The Lost Elixir

Chapter Six

She didn't turn to speak to him until they were both riding up to the third floor.

"I'm sure you already heard, but they only had one room and—"

"I heard," Jarrah interrupted lowly, his gaze trained on the old elevator doors that creaked and groaned with movement.

"And you don't mind?" Rayne pressed.

"No, we slept in the forest near each other. Why should being in a room matter?"

She shrugged. "I was just wondering if you'd be uncomfortable, is all. If anything, I'm disappointed that it's done no such thing."

Rayne swore she thought the corners of his lips twitched when the elevator creaked itself open. He waited for her to exit first and then the both of them searched for 314, which didn't take very long, thankfully. On their walk over, she had to tune out the cries she could hear from the other side of some of the rooms and cringed into her chest. It was no secret that she was an Empath, and hearing their tears only made her want to envelop herself into a comforting blanket and sleep off her exhaustion.

She couldn't protect the world; no matter how hard she wanted to.

Jarrah must have been able to hear it too, because when he was waiting for her to enter the keycard, he was anxiously shifting from foot to foot. His eyebrows were furrowed as he kept his gaze on the ground, jaw locked.

The room wasn't big, but it was comfortable enough that they wouldn't suffocate by their unfortunate proximity for the night. There was a clean bathroom, an older flat screen tv on a dresser, a window to look out of behind some outdated blue curtains, a table with a rolling chair, and a large king-size bed that'll put more than enough room between them. Rayne removed her backpack from her shoulder and pulled out a pair of sweats for the both of them, curtesy of the pack's hidden wear behind trees, and two t-shirts that would be comfortable enough to change in.

She didn't even ask if Jarrah wanted to shower first. She walked right over to the bathroom, closed the door behind her, and turned on the water as fast as she could. The thought of the hot water roaming down her tense muscles sounded all too pleasing to her, and much to her relief, she wasn't disappointed.

Rayne scrubbed at her skin with rose scented soap, soaked water into her curls, and used some of the cheap shampoo and conditioner for her hair. She left half of the substance in each bottle because she knew Jarrah had a lot of hair too if he wanted to wash it, then climbed out of the shower to put her fresh clothes on. She didn't need a lot of time; just enough to feel even remotely like herself again.

They still had to go to dinner downstairs together, but she didn't care that she'd be walking down in sweats and a simple t-shirt. It's not like they were at a beauty pageant, for crying out loud.

When Rayne finally stepped out of the steamed room, she noted a quiet Jarrah sitting in the rolling chair and staring up at the moonlight. Much to her confusion, a part of her wondered what he was thinking about staring up at the light so intently. Wolves loved the moon, did the Fae like it too?

Did it remind him of home just like it did her?

The guilt came again, much stronger than before. It came in a wave that pulled her out to sea on a tide that wasn't her fault . . . and yet, she still felt responsible for it.

Before she could ask about the moon, Jarrah stood from his seat with his clothes bunched in his hand and barely spared her a passing glance when he went into the bathroom. The sound of the door closing pulled her out of her trance and she flopped onto her back, sighing out a breath of tired air. The warmth of the covers pulled her in like a warm hug, and temporarily comforted her enough to imagine that she was home, in her own bed, at her own little house instead of trying to prove herself in a place she'd never been. Instead of meeting her doom in a place full of vampires who wanted nothing more than to see her dead.