Not for the first time, she thought to herself, I have to get over him and move on.
The thought didn’t carry any weight. It never had.
Let’s face it. I’m as much in love with him as I’ve ever been, maybe even more so, because after so many years, I sure don’t look at him through rosy-tinted glasses anymore. I see every single one of his flaws all too well, and I love him anyway.
Now what am I going to do?
“Melly.”
The sound of his voice, roughened and gravelly as it was, ran over her like a physical caress. Shivering, she opened her eyes and looked at him.
He stood with a hand holding one of the bars of the gate. In his other hand, he gripped his two stakes. His jeans were filthy, and so was the wide expanse of the bare skin on his chest. Only some of his wounds had healed, she noticed. Precious blood trickled from others. He was dangerously depleted again.
There was worry in his wolflike gaze as he watched her. He said, “Toss me the keys.”
She made an immense effort and flung them at the gate. They skittered across the floor until he stopped them with the toe of one boot.
As he unlocked the gate, she asked, “Did you get them?”
“I got one. The others got away. Maybe I could have gotten them too, if I’d kept going after them, but I didn’t want to get too far away from you.” He knelt beside her. “I need to look at your shoulder.”
“I’m not hurt as badly as you are. I’ll live,” she said, although she let him ease the edges of her top away from her skin. “I was sitting here thinking. You know, I was always the good twin. Bailey was the one who took risks and broke the rules. Now she’s off having adventures in Jamaica.”
“Not at the moment, she isn’t. She’s in LA, helping your mom look for you.” He wore a fierce frown as he inspected her wounds.
With a wave of her hand, she dismissed his words. “Okay, but you know what I mean. Normally, she’s the one who goes off to have adventures. Me, I always followed the rules. Bailey was the spare, but I was the heir. I had to look after things and be responsible. I’m even in the family business. Mom always wanted me to work in admin on the other side of the camera, but she never complained too much. At least my job has been fun.”
“Come here.” Easing one arm around her waist, he lifted her to her feet.
She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her. “You’re hurt too. I don’t want to lean on you.”
“Tough,” he told her. “I can take it.”
Keeping his arm tight around her, he held her steady as they walked back to his cell and their meager supplies. Then he urged her to sit again.
“You think it’s okay to take the time?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Our lives have changed for the better. Anthony’s dead, I’m free to act, and most of the ferals are gone. Everything we do down here is a calculated risk, but we need to regroup before we set out.”
“I can’t argue with that,” she muttered.
“Besides, Justine doesn’t know most of her ferals have been staked,” he told her. “If she comes, we’ll hear her whistle long before she gets here, and we’ll have time to get ready for her.”
While he talked, he unbuttoned her top and pulled it open.
They both looked down at her lacy bra, which showcased the full curve and shape of her breasts. She was a C-cup, and she liked pretty underwear.
Now half the bra was streaked with blood. The Vampyre’s talons had missed her bra strap, so structurally it was still functional, but the creamy, delicate material was ruined.
With the tip of one forefinger, he gently traced the skin at the top edge of the bra. “A pity,” he said. “It was pretty.”
“I have other pretty bras,” she said with a small shrug.
He rose to his feet to get the grocery bag. Then he looked around the cell until he located pieces of the T-shirt Justine had torn off him. He picked through the bits of cloth until he finally decided on one. Opening one of the bottles of water, he soaked the rag and carefully sponged her wounds. “This isn’t very clean, I’m afraid. The only other cloth we have is the blanket, and the wool would be too rough on your torn skin.”
“Infection is pretty low on my list of concerns right now,” she told him.
“It isn’t low on my list. The ferals have filthy talons. Their bites are filthy too.” She hissed as her wounds stung, and the skin around his eyes crinkled into a wince. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Grimacing, she turned her face away.
“Were you going somewhere?” he asked quietly.