Assuming they still wanted to interview her. Assuming she got the job.
Jane looked at the cold mug with its chocolate-streaked insides.
The idea that came to her was nuts. Absolutely nuts. And she pushed it away as evidence that her head wasn't quite back on track.
Getting up from the table, she put the mug in the dishwasher, and went to shower and change. A half hour later she pulled out of her garage, and as she headed off, a minivan was turning into the short driveway next door.
A family. Great.
Luckily, the trip downtown was smooth sailing. There was little traffic as she shot down Trade Street, and she hit every light on green until she got to the one opposite the Caldwell Courier Journal's offices.
As she came to a stop her cell phone went off. No doubt her on-call service.
"Whitcomb."
"Hello, Doctor. It's your man."
She smiled. A big, shit-eating grin. "Hi."
"Hi." There was a muffled shifting of sheets, like V was turning over in bed. "Where are you?"
"On the way to work. Where are you?"
"On my back."
Oh, Jesus, she could just imagine how good he looked in his black sheets.
"So… Jane?"
"Yes?"
His voice dropped low. "What are you wearing?"
"Scrubs."
"Mmmmm. That's sexy."
She laughed. "They're one step up from wearing a sack."
"Not on you they're not."
"What are you wearing?"
"Nothing… and guess where my hand is, Doctor."
The light changed, and Jane had to remember how to drive. In a breathless voice she said, "Where?"
"Between my legs. Can you guess what it's on?"
Oh… sweet… Jesus. As she hit the gas, she said, "What?"
He answered her and she nearly drove into a parked car. "Vishous…"
"Tell me what to do, Doctor. Tell me what I should do with my hand."
Jane swallowed hard, pulled over… and gave him detailed instructions.
Phury rolled up some red smoke, licked the paper, and twisted the blunt closed. As he lit it, he leaned back into his pillows. His prosthesis was off and propped up against the bedside table, and he was wearing a royal-blue-and-bloodred silk robe. His favorite.
Making a little peace with Bella had calmed him out. Being back here had calmed him out. More red smoke had calmed him out.
Peeling the Directrix off the ceiling had not.
That female had appeared at the mansion about a half hour after he and Cormia had come over from the Other Side, and she'd been all up around the rafters about one of her Chosen going missing. Phury had taken her into the library and, in front of Wrath, explained that everything was fine: He'd just changed his mind and wanted to come back here for a little bit.
The Directrix had not been charmed. In a haughty voice that had not played well, she'd informed him that as the representative of the Chosen, she demanded to interview Cormia about what had happened in the temple-for the purpose of ascertaining whether or not the Primale ceremony was complete.
Phury had decided he didn't like her at that point. Her shrewd eyes had told him she knew there had been no sex, and he had the clear impression that she wanted deets only because she was looking forward to laying into Cormia.
Like that was going to happen. With a smile on his face, Phury had dropped the P-bomb and reminded the bitch that as the Primale he was not accountable to her, and that he and Cormia would be back on the other side when he damn well pleased. And not a moment before.
Huffy didn't begin to describe the reaction, but he had her by the short hairs, and she knew it. Her eyes had been spitting hatred as she'd bowed and dematerialized.
To hell with her, was his attitude, and he was of a serious mind to have her ass fired. He wasn't sure how to make that happen, but he didn't want someone like that in charge. She was mean.
Phury inhaled and held on to the red smoke. He didn't know how-long to keep Cormia here. Christ, for all he knew she already wanted to go back. The only thing he knew for sure was that when she went it would be her choice, not anything forced on her by those Chosen wing nuts.
As for him? Well… a part of him still wanted to get away from the mansion, but Cormia was a buffer of sorts. Besides, they would head back to the Other Side and stay there at some point.
He exhaled and absently rubbed his right leg where it ended below the knee. It was sore, but then it usually was at the end of the night.
The knock on the door surprised him. "Come in?"
He guessed who it was by the way the thing opened: slowly and just a crack.
"Cormia? That you?" He sat up, pulling the duvet over his legs.
Her blond head poked through, her body staying out in the hall.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She shook her head. In the Old Language she said, "If it would not offend, may I please enter your quarters, your grace?"
"Of course. And you don't have to be formal."
She slipped inside and closed the door. She seemed so fragile wrapped in all that white cloth, more like a young, instead of a female who had been through her change.
"What's wrong?"
Instead of answering him, she stayed silent, eyes downcast, arms holding herself.
"Cormia, talk to me. Tell me what's going on."
She bowed low and spoke from that position. "Your grace, I am-"
"No formality. Please." He started to shift off the bed, but then realized he didn't have his leg on. He eased back into place, not sure how she would feel knowing he was missing a piece of his body. "Just talk to me. What do you need?"
She cleared her throat. "I am your mate, am I not?"
"Um… yeah."
"So should I not be staying with you in your chamber?"
His brows shot up. "I thought it would be better for you to have your own room."
"Oh."
He frowned. Surely she didn't want to stay with him.
As silence drifted on, he thought, well, evidently she did.
He felt awkward as hell as he said, "I guess, if you want… you can stay here. I mean, we could get another bed brought in."
"What is wrong with the one you have?"
She wanted to sleep with him? Why-Oh, right,
"Cormia, you don't have to worry about the Directrix or any of the others thinking that you're not doing your duty. No one is going to know what you do here."
Or didn't do, as was the case.
"It is not that. The wind… at least, I believe it to be the wind… it batters the house, does it not?"
"Well, yeah, it is kind of stormy right now. But we're surrounded by a boatload of stone."
As he waited for her to continue and she didn't, it came to him. Man, he was a clueless bastard, wasn't he? He'd taken her out of the only environment she'd ever known and dropped her in a whole new world. She was rattled by things he took as normal. How could she feel safe when she didn't know which sounds were dangerous and which were not?
"Listen, you want to stay here? That's fine with me." He looked around, trying to figure out where to roll in a cot. "There's plenty of room for a rollaway."
"The bed is good for me."
"Yeah, I'll sleep on the cot."
"Why?"
"Because I'd prefer not to sleep on the floor." There was a stretch over between two of the windows. He could have Fritz-
"But the bed is big enough for us both."
Phury slowly turned his head toward her. Then blinked. "Ah… yeah."
"We shall share it." Her eyes were still lowered, but there was an intriguing hint of strength in her voice. "And I shall then at least be able to tell them that I lay beside you."
Oh, so that was it. "Okay."
She nodded and went around to the opposite side. After she slid in between the sheets, she curled up into a ball and faced him. Which was a surprise. As was the fact that she didn't squeeze her eyes shut and feign sleep.