Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (26 page)

Grace and Emily were unconscious. Tommy moaned and Leah cried with confusion. He knew it seemed harsh, but he couldn’t worry about the welfare of the others; there was no time. Sirens screamed in the distance. From past experience, he knew just because someone wore a badge didn’t mean they were at the scene to help. The Fallen could be anywhere, or anyone.

He peered down at Grace and then around to her friends, as he took his blade and gently cut her seatbelt. With lightning speed, he bent inside and gently slipped his arms under her shoulders and legs, and pulled her out. Before leaping off, he told the others they’d be okay and help was on the way. As he was running back to his Jag, ignoring all the gasping onlookers, Grace came to and began mumbling about her friends.

“
It’s okay, Grace, I’ve got you. Your friends are safe.”

Relief washed over him as he buckled her into the passenger seat of his car. She was safe and was going to be alright.

Shoving the gear in drive, he slowly made his way through the stalled cars surrounding the accident. Grace came to completely, trying to make sense of the wreckage. When she noticed Tommy’s car, Quentin’s seneschal band twisted with fear.

“
Emily,” she whispered. “Stop the car!” she screamed.

“
I can’t,” he said tersely. He glanced at Grace and, sensing her resistance, gentled his voice in an attempt to sound sympathetic, but firm. “I have to get you home. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe.”

Quentin blinked hard and groaned as she grabbed the door handle and shouted, “If you don’t stop the car, I’m getting out anyway.”

He pulled over on the shoulder. “Please, Grace, listen to me. The Fallen know where you are. There could be more coming.”

“
I don’t care,” she hissed. The seatbelt clicked free, and she scrabbled for the door again.

Desperate, he grabbed her hand. He watched as she sucked in a breath, staring at him with the same wonderment in her eyes as she did every time he touched her. “Don’t. Please,” he begged.

Grace relaxed and her face softened. “I have to. I can’t leave my friends.” Then she smiled that beautiful smile. “You’re my Guardian. Guard me.”

After sending up a little prayer, he let go of her hand and followed her back to the accident, the police and ambulance just arriving.

Luckily, Grace was spared the trouble of giving a statement since she couldn’t remember any of the accident. Quentin gave his more than once, tweaking details here and there so as to not give away too much of the truth. It took a lot of arguing to convince the medics not to take Grace to the hospital in the ambulance. Instead, Quentin called Christophe’s personal physician, who showed up quickly. He guaranteed he’d treat her and promised there was no dire need for her to go with them. After his assessment, the doctor said Grace had a slight concussion and minor whiplash, and gave instructions to Quentin on signs to watch out for and how he was to care for her through the night.

Unfortunately, the other three did need to go to the hospital. Both Leah and Tommy suffered concussions as well, Leah’s worse than Grace’s or Tommy’s. Emily’s arm was broken. Grace was awash with guilt, but Quentin tried reassuring her they’d be okay.

By the time the accident was cleared and they were given permission to leave, Grace was weaving with exhaustion. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms. She protested feebly all the way to the car. As soon as they were back on the road, she fell asleep. Quentin glanced at her every few minutes, knowing it could have been a whole lot worse. His heart gave a painful squeeze at the thought.

Once they were home he didn’t bother trying to wake her just yet; she needed the sleep. Carefully, he pulled her from the Jag, kicking the door softly shut with his foot. He thought for sure once they were inside and Laney saw how late it was, she’d come running. But she didn’t. Once again, the house was empty. With Grace still in his arms, he walked up the stairs toward her room, and wondered where Laney had been going so often and so late at night.

Somehow he managed to pull the blankets back from Grace’s bed and lay her down without waking her. Her feet dangled off the edge of the bed and he tugged gently, amazing himself that he was able to get her shoes off without so much as a disturbance in her breathing.

Satisfied, Quentin stared down at his charge sleeping soundlessly and realized he was still in a quandary, wondering how in the world was he going to get Grace out of those dirty jeans without making himself uncomfortable now … and Grace much more so later. Where the hell was Laney, his mind shrieked. He cursed her mother silently and ground his teeth, realizing he needed to get creative, and fast.

In a flash of genius, he covered her with her bed sheet. He then knelt at her feet and reached underneath it in search of the button and fly of her jeans. The heat that radiated off those long, shapely legs unnerved him so he gave up, peeked under the sheet, and quickly undid her jeans.

Inch by inch, he pulled them down slowly so he didn’t wake her, which only made him think things he shouldn’t. Baseball
.
Concentrating on baseball only made him think about how he was already at second base with her. Stop it!
Desperate for distraction, he sang inside his head, counted backward, and ran over the list of the most violent movies he’d seen. When her pants were finally free and hanging from his hands, he heaved a sigh of relief and dropped them as if they were on fire.

He truly was a jerk.

Gently, he put his hands under her ankles, and moved them only enough so her feet no longer hung over the edge. He walked to the corner of her room where the lounge chair was and moved it next to her bed.

It was still an hour and a half until he had to wake her to check her vitals, but he wouldn’t leave. Without a sound, Quentin sat watching as she slept peacefully in her bed. He wasn’t Fallen, so he knew better than to fall for her, but he was. His heart wouldn’t listen. And he didn’t know what to do about it, or how to stop it … without his heart ceasing to beat.

He needed to find a way before it clouded his judgment. Or worse, before he made a mistake that might just get her killed
.

Fragments of dreams mingled with fuzzy images from the night before, making it tricky for Grace to swim through her consciousness to reality. She remembered waking up in Quentin’s car and seeing Tommy’s Blazer on its side, and pretty much everything after that up until when Quentin carried her back to his car. The rest of the night was a blur.

Stiffly, she turned her head toward the clock on her nightstand, and gasped in surprise. Quentin was sleeping upright in her chair. He didn’t look very comfortable. His neck was kinked awkwardly as his head rested on the back of the chair, his jaw slack as he breathed deeply in his slumber. Her gaze roamed over his crossed arms, and the bare feet that rested on the end of her bed. He must have pulled an all-nighter, she decided.

More images flashed before her eyes. Soft lips against her forehead. Tender touches of care through the night. The sweet hum of song lulling her back to sleep each time he woke her.

Grace rolled away from him, carefully pulling her blankets back so she could try to get up without waking him. Her muscles screamed in protest, her entire body as sore as if a Mack truck had driven over her, backed up, and run over her again. Grace wondered how long it would take until she could move without hurting. Carefully, she placed her hands on either side of her legs, when her fingers brushed against bare skin. Looking down, she inhaled sharply, yanked the blankets back over the bottom half of her body, and flopped backward on the bed so Quentin couldn’t see her underwear from behind. Oh God
,
she groaned mentally, throwing her arm over her eyes.

There was nothing careful in the way she fell back onto the bed. Quentin woke, startled. Jumping off the chair, he looked frantically around the room. “What’s wrong?”

“
Oh, just about everything,” Grace muttered.

“
Is it your head?” He tugged on her arm. “Let me see your eyes.”

Mortified beyond belief, she tried keeping her arm in place, but wasn’t strong enough to resist.

“
Oh my gosh, you look like you’re burning up. Here.” With the back of his hand, he felt for a fever, much like her mother had when she was younger.

Someone kill me now, Grace silently begged. Humiliation burned bright red over every square inch of her face. “Stop it, Quentin!” She batted his hand away and scowled at him. “I’m not running a fever. I’m fine.”

“
You don’t look fine,” he said, staring at her with skepticism. “Just tell me, because you’re not going to be able to keep it away from me anyway.”

“
Fine
.
I’m embarrassed. Happy now?”

“
Embarrassed.” He rolled the word around like he was trying it on for size. “But why?”

“
I’m not wearing any bottoms, just panties.” Panties that were way too skimpy for him to be seeing her wearing.

“
Oh.” He straightened, took a step back, and said nothing more.

Raising her eyes, she met his gaze straight on. “Please tell me you didn’t undress me.”

“
Well… uh… I—” Quentin stumbled over his words and looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

“
Quentin!” Grace yelled, as she pulled herself up in her bed, scrambling to get into a sitting position without revealing more of herself.

He swiped a hand across his face and looked away, his voice uncertain. “I had to.”

“
Uh-huh.” Grace grunted in mortification and crossed both arms over her face as she fell back again, wishing she could be anywhere else.

“
Your mom wasn’t home and your jeans were filthy from the wreck.”

Grace dropped her arms to her stomach and frowned. “And so you thought you’d just help me out of them?”

He paused, and let out a sigh. “Yes.”

She grunted again and turned her face to the wall.

“
No—” he started again, before she cut in.

“
Which is it, Quentin, yes or no?”

He sat back down in the chair behind Grace’s head, releasing an exasperated breath. “I tried my best to do it as discreetly as I could. I did it under your sheet. I didn’t see
anything, I promise.”

His promise made her feel a little better. The truth of the matter was that although he was the first man to ever take her pants off, she’d never quite pictured it happening like that. Tilting her head back, she forced her lips to curve up. “Thank you for not being a jerk then.”

Quentin didn’t reply. Instead, he stood up, asked if she needed anything, and then hurried out of the room, she assumed to give her privacy so she could get out of bed.

Ten minutes passed and she still hadn’t moved. Suddenly cold, she wrapped her arms around herself. Last night could have ended very differently. Badly. Stunned at the realization of how close she’d come to mortal danger, she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the images. A light tap on the door tore her from her thoughts. “I’m not dressed yet, Quentin.”

The door opened slowly.

Annoyed, she sat up and propped herself on her elbow. “Quentin, I said—”

“
It’s me.” Laney peeked her head through the opening of the door. “Can I come in?”