Phury stamped out his blunt and figured he'd do them both a favor and sleep on top of the covers. But he needed to hit the loo before he crashed.
Crap.
Well, she was going to have to know about his leg sooner or later.
He moved the duvet aside, reached for his cane, and stood up. As he heard her breath go in on a hiss and felt her stare, he thought, God, she must be horrified. As a Chosen, she was used to perfection.
"Got no lower leg." Well, duh. "It's not a problem, though."
Provided his prosthesis was fitted correctly and functioning well.
"I'll be right back." It was a relief to shut the bathroom door, and he spent longer than he usually did brushing his teeth and flossing and using the toilet. When he started to rearrange the Q-tips and the Motrin in the medicine cabinet, he knew he had to go back out.
He opened the door.
She was right where she'd been before, all the way over on the edge of the bed, facing him with her eyes open.
As he came across the room, he wished she'd stop looking at him. Especially as he stretched out on top of the duvet and the robe didn't cover his leg. Flipping the corner of the comforter over to hide himself, he tried to get settled.
This was not going to work. He was cold with just his lower half covered.
With a quick glance he measured the stretch of mattress between them. Big as a soccer field. So much space she might as well have been in a different room.
"I'm going to turn the light out."
When her head went up and down on the pillow, he turned off the lamp… and slid under the covers.
In the black void he lay rigidly beside her. Jesus… He'd never slept with anyone before. Well, there had been that time during Bella's needing with V and Butch, but that was because they'd all passed out. Besides, they were males, whereas… well, Cormia was definitely not male.
He took a deep breath. Yeah, her jasmine scent was a dead giveaway.
Closing his eyes, he was willing to bet she was just as stiff and awkward as he was. Man, this was going to be a long day. He so should have followed through on the cot idea.
Chapter Forty-six
"Vishous, could you stop grinning like that? You're beginning to freak me out."
V flipped Butch the bird across the mansion's kitchen table and went back to his coffee. Night was coming soon, which meant in… twenty-eight minutes… he was free.
The second he was out, he was going to go to Jane's house and pull some romantic shit. He wasn't sure what, maybe like flowers or something. Well, flowers and him installing that security system. 'Cause nothing said lovin' like a shitload of motion detectors.
God, he was whipped. For real.
She'd told him she was getting home around nine, so he figured he'd doll up her bedroom a little and then have a visit with her until midnight.
Except that only left him five hours to hunt.
Butch rustled the sports section around, leaned over to kiss Marissa on the shoulder, then went back to the CCJ. In response she glanced up from her paperwork for Safe Place, rubbed his arm, and went back to what she was doing. She had a fresh bite mark on her neck and the glow of a very satisfied female in her face.
V winced and looked down into his coffee, stroking his goatee. He and Jane were never going to have that, he thought, because they weren't ever going to live together. Even if he was off from the Brotherhood, he couldn't crash at her place during daylight hours, because of the sun thing and her coming here wasn't an option for different exposure reasons: There was enough risk with her knowing that the race existed. More contact, more details, more time around the Brotherhood was not smart or safe.
As V cradled his mug and leaned back in the chair, he worried about the future. He and Jane were good together, but the forced separations were going to wear on them. He could already feel a strain as he contemplated the good-bye that would have to happen tonight.
He wanted her as close as his own skin twenty-four/seven. Her voice over the phone, while better than nothing, wasn't enough to truly satisfy him. But what were their other options?
There was another rustle of paper as Butch manhandled the CCJ. Christ, he had horrible newspaper etiquette, always mashing the pages and being rough with the creases. It was the same with magazines. Butch didn't so much read them as gnaw on them with his hands.
In the process of terrorizing an article on spring training, Butch glanced over at Marissa again, and V knew the two were going to take off soon-but not because they were finished with their coffee.
Funny, he knew what was going to happen from extrapolation, not second sight or because he could read their minds: Butch was letting off the bonding scent, and Marissa loved being with her male. It wasn't like V had a vision of them ending up locked in the butler's pantry or back in bed at the Pit.
Jane's thoughts were the only ones he could read, and then only some times.
He rubbed the center of his chest and thought about what the Scribe Virgin had said… that his visions and his prescient ability were obscured because of a crossroads in his own life, and that when he was through it they would come back. Thing was, he had Jane now, so wasn't he past that part? He'd found his female. He was with her. End of story.
He swallowed more coffee. Kept up with the rubbing.
The nightmare had been back again this morning.
As he couldn't chalk up that bullshit gunshot sequence to PTSD anymore, he decided it was now an allegory, his subconscious churning over the fact that he still felt out of control in his life. Because falling in love would do that.
That had to be why. Had to.
"Ten minutes," Butch whispered into Marissa's ear. "Can I have ten minutes with you before you go? Please, baby…"
V rolled his eyes and was relieved to be annoyed at the lovey-dovey routine. At least all the testosterone in him hadn't dried up.
"Baby… please?"
V took a pull on his mug. "Marissa, throw the sap bastard a bone, would you? The simpering wears on my nerves."
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Marissa packed up her papers with a laugh and shot Butch a look. "Ten minutes. And you'd better make them count."
Butch was up out of that chair like the thing was on fire. "Don't I always?"
"Mmm… yes."
As the two locked lips, V snorted. "Have fun, kiddies. Somewhere else."
They'd just left when Zsadist came in at a dead run. "Shit. Shit… shit…"
"What's doing, my brother?"
"I'm teaching and I'm late." Zsadist grabbed a sleeve of bagels, a turkey leg out of the refridg and a quart of ice cream from the freezer. "Shit."
"That's your breakfast?"
"Shut up. It's almost a turkey sandwich."
"Rocky Road don't count as mayo, my brother."
"Whatever." He beelined back for the door. "Oh, by the way, Phury's here again, and he brought that Chosen with him. Figured you'd want to know in case you see a random female ghosting around here."
Whoa. Surprise. "How's he doing?"
Zsadist paused. "I don't know. He's pretty tight about shit. Not real talkative. The bastard."
"Oh, and you're a candidate for The View?"
"Right back at you, Bahbwa."
"Touché." V shook his head. "Man, I owe him."
"Yeah, you do. We all do."
"Hold up, Z." V tossed the spoon he'd used to sugar his coffee across the room. "You're going to want this, true."
Z caught the thing on the fly. "Ah, would have spaced that. Thanks. Man, I got Bella on the brain all'a time, feel me?"
The butler's door flapped shut.