“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Okay. I’m coming. Just stay put.”
“Not going anywhere,” I said with a scowl I could feel down to my core. “Whatever he did made me real weak and shaky. Not safe to drive.” I glanced down at my broken hand. “And I need brains. Sorry. I was on my way home and didn’t put any in the car.”
“No worries, babe,” he said, though there was no mistaking the worry in his voice. “Already have some for you.” His truck engine roared to life in the background. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Thanks. See you then,” I said, managing a tired smile as I dropped the phone back into my purse. Damned good guy. Yet my smile faded as I remembered my reaction to Philip. Kiss his booboos and make them better? I remembered it, but didn’t feel it anymore. Weird. In the moment I’d sure felt it.
Then it hit me. Kiss his booboos and make them better. Like a mother and child. I’d turned him into a zombie, chewed brains and fed them to him like a mother bird, protected him from Charish in his first hours. What the shit? Was the bizarre compassion some sort of parasite-influenced zombie-mama instinct? It sure as hell made more sense than anything else.
An unnatural cold settled in my bones, accompanied by another wave of weakness, and I gave up pondering the weirdness surrounding my horrible zombie-baby. Probably an after effect of the damn tranq, I figured. However, when Marcus’s truck screeched to a stop beside my car, I managed to gather enough energy to fling the door open and stagger out. Marcus reached me in a brains-fueled instant, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.
“God, you’re soaking wet,” he murmured. “C’mon, let’s get you warmed up.” Supporting me, he steered me to his truck, got me in and then tucked a blanket around me. My lips twitched in mild amusement as I saw that it was the blanket we’d had sex on at the stadium. God, that seemed like an eternity ago.
He gave my thigh a comforting squeeze, reached to crank up the heat, then pressed a bottle into my hand. “Drink up,” he urged. “You need it.” Then he surprised me by pulling a towel, plastic sheeting, and duct tape from behind the seat. “I’ll get your window covered.”
“You’re the best,” I told him, totally meaning it.
“You bring it out in me, Angel,” he said with a smile and eyes full of a warmth that did more to chase away my chill than the blanket. His gaze dropped to the bottle. “Drink,” he repeated, then closed the door and turned away to attend to my car.
I wasn’t all that hungry, but I knew my unhealed injuries needed brains. I opened the bottle and lifted it to drink, but my stomach gave an odd lurch at a revolting smell. Frowning, I lowered it without taking a sip. Had to be something wrong with it.
A few minutes later Marcus climbed into the driver’s seat, placed my phone and purse on the seat between us. He glanced at the full bottle in my hand and worry darkened his eyes.
“Babe, you need to drink all of that,” he said gently with a light touch to the back of my injured hand.
“Can’t.” I made a face and shook my head. “They don’t smell right,” I said. “I think they’re spoiled.”
He frowned and took the bottle from me, sniffed and then sipped. “No, they’re good. Your taste must be a little off.” He handed the bottle back to me. “Angel, you need to make yourself drink.”
I held my breath and forced myself to take a few swallows, then shuddered. “Oh, god, that’s really awful.”
His gaze dropped to the abrasions on the back of my hand. “Well, you’re healing…but damn, a lot more slowly than normal.”
Frowning, I peered at my hand. “Maybe it’s because of whatever knocked me out.” My frown deepened as I looked over at him. “I mean, it really knocked me out—totally unconscious, even though it wasn’t for very long.” It was only now hitting me how very odd that was. “When I got tranqed before it didn’t do that.” McKinney, Dr. Charish’s muscle, had tranqed me from a distance when I’d exchanged myself for my dad. “McKinney’s tranq dropped me, and I couldn’t move,” I continued, “but I was awake the whole time.” Not necessarily coherent since I was crazed with brain-hunger, but certainly awake. “And it didn’t make me feel weak afterward like I do now.”
Marcus exhaled. “Let’s get you back to the house, then I’ll call Uncle Pietro.” He glanced my way. “Keep trying to finish that bottle, if you can. It’s doing some good, even if slowly.”
I took slow grimace-laden sips as we drove, but to my relief the yuck-level began to decrease, and by the time we reached his house I’d sucked down the last of the bottle and wanted more. My hand wasn’t completely healed up, but it was well on the way, and the overwhelming weakness had faded to a much more normal tiredness. What was up with that, along with the brains being near revolting at first and damn tasty now? It had to be something to do with the tranquilizer and its effects wearing off.
Marcus got me inside his house and found some vastly oversized sweats for me to change into since my own clothes were still wet. After that he shepherded me to the couch, wrapped a blanket around me, then snuggled up next to me.
“Thanks, hon’,” I said as I nestled close. This was the protective side of Marcus I adored.
“We need to tell my uncle,” Marcus said.
“Yeah.” I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder. “You do it. I’m too tired to deal with him.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Not a problem.”
I closed my eyes while he dialed, listened with half an ear while he told Pietro about the attack, the blood draw, the tranq, my weakness, slow healing and temporary distaste for brains. After that Marcus fell silent, broken only by the occasional “Right” and “Okay” and “I will.”
When he finally hung up and set the phone aside, I opened my eyes, gave him a smile. “I’m feeling a lot better,” I said. “Thanks.”
“You look a lot better,” he said, with less of the worry that had tightened his voice before.
“Is it okay if I spend the night here tonight?” I asked.
A smile spread across his face. “You’d have had to wrestle me to get out the door.”
I let out a tired laugh. “There’s also the fact that my car is still in the Walmart parking lot.” I kissed him. “But mostly I’d really like you to hold me for a long time.”
He let out a breath of relief, kissed me back. “I can totally do that.” He paused. “There’s pudding in the fridge, but, ah, only if you’re interested.”
I smiled. “I think I’m hungry again.”
Chapter 12
“Babe.”
I mumbled and rolled over.
“Hey, babe,” the voice insisted on continuing to speak. Marcus. Waking me up. Damn him. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave in ten minutes,” he went on. “I work day shift, and I have roll call at six a.m.”
Cracking an eye open, I peered at the clock. Five fifteen. “You’re kicking me out?” I mumbled.
Marcus chuckled softly. “Hell, no,” he said. “You can stay here all day. But if you want me to give you a ride back to your car, you need to get up.”
Crap. Yeah, my car was still in the Walmart parking lot. I briefly debated staying in bed and then finding another way to retrieve the damn thing, but I couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted to bug for a ride—or tell what had happened. And I sure as hell didn’t want to cough up cash for a taxi.
Reluctantly, I opened both eyes. Marcus was dressed and ready to go in his sheriff’s office uniform. It was a somewhat ordinary grey shirt and dark blue pants, but Marcus had his shirts tailored to better fit the v-taper of his lats, and the polyester pants hugged his firm butt quite nicely. Add the whole duty belt and air of authority, and the man frickin’ oozed sexy.