Hit List(58)

I reread the note. Edward acted like I just needed a good steak dinner as opposed to fast-food burgers. It wasn’t like that; it wasn’t like that at all. But Edward was out there without me. He was out there hunting the Harlequin without me at his back. What would I say to Donna and the kids if he died because I wasn’t there? What would I say to myself? Fuck.

“Was it bad news?” Ethan asked.

I glanced at him. “You didn’t peek at the note?”

“It’s not my note,” he said.

“It wasn’t sealed, just folded over, and you didn’t peek?”

He frowned and said, “No, it’s not my note.”

I looked at him. I’d been attracted to him from the moment I met him, or my tigers had, or hell, I didn’t know anymore, maybe it was all me. Maybe the beasts just opened up things that were already there? Who the hell knew? Sex with this man wasn’t a fate worse than death. Was it sex with a stranger that bothered me, or just sex in general, or both? I was betting both. I looked away from Ethan, stared at the pale wall with its copy-of-a-copy painting beside the dresser and its TV. I’d try it, and if it felt too weird, I’d say stop, and wait for Alex; at least I’d already slept with him.

“Yes, you can touch my back,” I said, but couldn’t make my voice sound completely happy about it.

But Ethan took me at my word, not my tone. His fingers trailed down my back and kept going until he was tracing the edge of my butt.

“That is not my back,” I said.

He drew his hand away from me. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly.

“No, it’s not you, it’s me. I always have a problem with having to have sex.”

He sat up, drawing the covers over his lap so he stayed covered. It meant I had to hold on to the covers to stay as covered as I was, but I appreciated the attempt at modesty on his part. “I can call Alex. He’s working, but you can ask him how soon he could be here.”

I looked at his face, so careful, so . . . hurt. I remembered then, a little late, that he’d spent his life not being wanted by the women of his clan. Shit. I sighed, and said, “I can’t explain all my issues right now, but just give me a minute. I do want you. I am attracted to you. I just didn’t expect to wake up beside you before we’d even had sex. I didn’t expect to miss out on the crime fighting while I had to heal.”

I hugged my knees to my chest. “I’d gotten used to the extra healing that I get with the metaphysics. I thought the super healing was because of the lycanthropy and the vampire marks; I didn’t realize it was tied this much to the ardeur.”

“And that bothers you?” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I can go days without feeding the ardeur now. I was so happy and it was going to make being a U.S. Marshal so much easier, but now I know the price of not feeding. When I’m hunting bad guys I need the extra healing, so that means I still have to feed regularly. Do you know how hard that is on an active warrant of execution out of state?”

“No, but I can imagine.” I could feel some tension go out of him, so that he was just sitting on the bed, not waiting to get up and call Alex.

“May I touch the back of your body?” he asked, “and did you hear the difference in what I asked?”

I thought about it for a second, trying to work out why I was getting in my way so badly. Finally, I said, “Yes, and yes.”

He touched my back again, but this time I tensed. “It really bothers you that you have to feed so often.”

“Yes,” I said, and hugged my knees a little tighter. “It’s almost impossible to do the out-of-state warrants.”

He laid his hand on my shoulder, not petting, more comforting. “But you can go days without feeding if you have to, and from what you’re saying, that wasn’t true before.”

I thought about it. “No, I mean, you’re right.”

He scooted on the bed so he was sitting behind me. I fought the tension in my shoulders, not liking his being where I couldn’t see him. I’d slept nude in a bed with him for hours. He’d already proven he was willing to risk his life to keep me safe. He’d trusted my ability with a gun enough to take a knife wound and throw himself on the mercy of a Harlequin. What more did I want from him?

He put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re still tense. What can I do to help?”

“Help me do years of therapy in the next five minutes,” I said.

“I don’t understand,” he said, and I didn’t have to see his face; I could hear the puzzlement in his voice.