No—no, I won’t think of that! I won’t! Elise told herself desperately. Besides, Merrick would never…that’s not what this is about.
What is it about, then? asked the voice of memory. What do you think he’s getting out of this?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’s giving to me because he doesn’t want me to be in pain even though I’ve hurt him. But I can’t take so much from him. Not when I’m just a parasite—a mosquito dying for a sip of his blood. I have to hold back, have to keep myself separate, apart from him, as much as I can.
So I’ll just take the bare minimum, Elise decided. It wouldn’t be fair to take more, to ask anything else of him. I’ll have as little physical contact as I can with Merrick—just enough to keep the hunger at bay, no more.
With that decision made, she felt an uneasy kind of relief. Deep inside, she knew her reasoning was flawed, but it was much easier to pretend she was limiting her contact with Merrick for the noble reason of not burdening him with her needs than it was to admit the truth about her past. She opened the vault for no one—not her friends or herself—not even James. And she wasn’t about topry it open for Merrick either, no matter what she felt—or thought she felt—for him.
Besides, all these feelings are still just coming from the artificial bond between us, she reminded herself. That didn’t feel quite true either, but Elise didn’t care. She just wanted to be left alone. To let the hidden bodies stay hidden and never, ever, under any circumstances disturb them.
“Hey…” Merrick’s deep voice roused her from her reverie. “You sure you're okay?"
“I’m just tired,” Elise said, as she had before. She unbuckled herself from the too-large harness and stood on shaky legs. Her stomach was suddenly in knots, the hunger coursing through her system and making her feel ravenous. Yet she knew if she went back to the kitchen and tried to eat, she would only throw whatever it was she ate up again. The only cure for her was the huge, scarred Kindred slouched in the captain’s chair of this small craft, his mismatched eyes trained on the control panel, his big hands and long fingers wrapped around the steering yoke. God, how she yearned to have those hands wrapped around her body instead, touching her, stroking her…but no, that was the hunger talking. And even if the disease hadn’t been manipulating her emotions, she still wouldn’t dare to act on those impulses. Wouldn’t dare to let herself feel those feelings, acknowledge those needs…
“Elise?” he asked and she shook her head, trying to get rid of all the confusing thoughts.
“I’m going to bed,” she said. “I…I guess I’ll see you later.”
Merrick said something in return but she didn’t catch it. She was already moving toward the back of the ship, a mass of conflicted emotions in female form.
Chapter Ten
“I can’t stop seeing it—seeing him. Oh, Goddess, Rast! Y’dex was horrible and I hated him with all my heart but to see him in that state…” Nadiah sank down on her side of the bed and buried her head in her hands. “Horrible,” she whispered. “So horrible…”
“Oh, sweetheart…” Rast sank down beside her, feeling helpless. The bed shifted gently and deliberately beneath him, supporting his weight in a way that had freaked him out at first. He was more or less used to it now, though. The semi-sentient sand which filled the silky mattress cover put any memory-foam or support-gel sleep-system he’d ever tried to shame. It seemed to sense exactly what he needed at any given time and know exactly how to provide it—a talent Rast was currently wishing he had regarding his new wife.
His first impulse was to pull her into his arms and try to comfort her that way. Nadiah came willingly enough, nestling close with her head against his chest, but it was clear she was still suffering. Rast’s second impulse was to wrap her in his wings and try to heal her that way. But he was pretty sure the wings were only good for physical ailments, not emotional ones. The words of an old song went through his head, How do you heal a broken heart?
Rast didn’t know. He held Nadiah close and kissed her shining, blonde hair, feeling helpless to ease her pain. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, stroking her back. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
She snuggled closer and Rast could feel the soft crush of her breasts beneath the tharp she wore, which was in the form of a white priestess robe. He could smell her sweet, feminine fragrance filling his senses and feel her tight nipples rubbing against his chest. God, how he wanted her! He shifted uncomfortably as his shaft grew hard in the tight pants he had on. Along with the high black boots he wore, they were part of his Councilor outfit. This isn’t the time or the place, he reminded himself. Nadiah needs comfort, not sex.