Home > Torn (A Wicked Saga #2)(11)

Torn (A Wicked Saga #2)(11)
Author: Jennifer L. Armentrout

There was also the whole finding Val’s parents thing. Ren wouldn’t and shouldn’t be along for that ride.

Ren exhaled heavily. “I know you need to find her. She was your closest friend, but she betrayed the Order and you. She nearly got you killed. No matter what questions you have for her or how she answers them, it’s not going to change what happened.”

I pressed my lips together.

“And if you find her, you might actually find fae,” he added.

“Well, that would suck, but . . . if I do find fae, I know how to do my job, Ren.”

“I’m not saying that you don’t know how to do your job.” He leaned over, switching on the nightstand lamp. “But I am going to be really honest with you.”

My gaze flicked over to him. Dammit, why did he have to be so hot, because it was really hard to be irritated with him when I wanted to kiss him. “Of course you are,” I muttered.

He ignored that. “You are strong and brave, but you were seriously injured a week ago—”

“A week and three days ago,” I corrected him.

Ren eyed me. “Do those three days really make a difference?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “Look, it’s late. You just got off in more than one way—”

“So did you,” he reminded me.

I shot him a look. “Can you turn off the light so we can go to bed?”

“No.”

My eyes narrowed. “Ren . . .”

His green eyes met mine. “You’re not ready to be back out there.”

“Oh, so you’re a doctor now?”

“You almost died, Ivy.”

A slice of bitter panic lit up my chest. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Obviously you need one, so could you try to use some common sense and just say yes, Ren, I’ll be happy to join you tomorrow night?”

I wanted to say that. I also wanted to say a lot of other things. I chose to say none of it. “I don’t need your permission. You do realize that, right?”

Ren shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to be an ass.”

“Well, you should try harder, then.”

He stared at me, and I could tell there was a lot he wanted to say, but like me, he kept that pretty mouth of his shut for a moment. “Whatever.” He turned and switched off the light.

“Finally,” I muttered, flipping onto my side and giving him my back.

He ignored that as he shifted back down onto his side. A moment passed, and then I felt his arm around my waist. He dragged me back against his chest. “Just think about what I said, okay?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “Ivy?”

“Okay,” I whispered, lying, because I’d already made up my mind even though I felt terrible about it.

~

I was walking out of the bedroom Sunday morning when there was a knock on the door. A shadow moved past the window near the porch, heading down the steps. I immediately had a sinking suspicion of what it was, and glanced down the short hallway toward the kitchen.

Ren easily stepped around me. “I’ll get it.”

“You know, I can do that.”

He kept going. “I’m just being a gentleman.”

“More like he’s being an overprotective bully,” Tink commented from where he suddenly appeared in the hallway. “I was hoping you’d be gone by now. Alas, Queen Mab and your God both hate me.”

I shot Tink a look that said shut up. Things had been a little tense between Ren and me this morning, and he was not helping.

“You know, if you weren’t actually the size of an overgrown rodent, your opinion might actually matter.” Ren opened the door. “What the hell? They deliver on Sundays, too?”

I peered over his shoulder and sighed. “Yep. Tink, it’s for you.”

“Me? All for me?” Tink buzzed into the living room. As he got closer, I realized he was wearing an Elf on the Shelf sweater, and yeah, I wasn’t even going to question that. He bumped into Ren’s arm. “Excuse me.”

Ren tipped his head up and stared at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. Tink screeched when he saw the packages—there were four of them. One large box and three smaller boxes. Knowing how Amazon packed their stuff, I figured there was either something ironically small in the big box or there were ten things shoved into it.

“You going to stand there or actually be helpful?” Tink demanded. “Pick up the boxes for me?”

“Tink,” I snapped.

“If I pick up those boxes,” Ren said, “I’m pitching them into the courtyard.”

Tink jerked back, smacking his hands against his cheeks. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’d so dare.”

“Oh Jesus,” I muttered, stepping around Ren. I picked up the boxes and carried them inside, dumping them on the couch.

“Careful!” shrieked Tink. “There could be priceless, fragile items in there.” He spun in the air as Ren was closing the door behind him. “And you! You made a lady carry boxes inside.”

I rolled my eyes.

Ren exhaled heavily. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“So?” Tink hovered in front of the couch, his wings furiously beating the air. “I’m rubber and you’re glue!”

Ren turned to face the little guy. “What?”

“Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you!”

Ren stared at him and then slowly shook his head as he turned back to me. “It’s like living with a two-year-old with the mental capacity of a fifteen-year-old boy.”

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