The Beloved, page 16
With a shrug, he replied, “With what I’ve burned? Not really. With pointing out you’re a good fighter? Yes.”
Nalla laughed a little. “I think you’re biased for reasons I can’t fathom. Whatever, though.”
As she stood there, he wanted her to leave, but not because he didn’t like having her with him.
“The sweatshirt was over thirty years old,” he remarked. “It was in perfect condition because it’s been in a drawer all this time. I used it as an excuse to go somewhere and see someone, and it’s time to say goodbye to all that.”
“Letting go of things can be healthy. Even if it’s hard.”
How am I going to say goodbye to you, he thought.
On that note, if he was starting down this path of see-ya-laters that Rahvyn was sending him on, he might as well begin with the hard ones, right? Rahvyn herself, with that stupid sweatshirt he’d left at the worksite at Luchas House—just so he could force Shuli to go back with him, just so he could maybe, hopefully, run into that female.
In burning the damn thing he was shutting the door on that ridiculous fantasy he’d created about her. So following that theme, how about he did himself a favor, now that he was warmed up with romances that went nowhere, and stage-left’d it with Nalla?
Right here.
Right now.
“Your fire is going out.” Nalla nodded at the sticks he’d gathered. “Do you have other things to let go of?”
“Yeah. You.”
As her eyes flipped up to his own, he cursed himself. But there was a serious no-take-back on that shit.
There was a long silence. Then she said in a low voice, “What if I don’t want you to let go of me.”
“Then I’d say we have a problem.”
“Do we?” she countered.
He nodded his head. “But it’s up to you.”
Her answer was in the way she moved: With slow, deliberate steps, she came forward, stopping when she was toe to toe with his shitkickers. She was not as tall as he was, and he liked the way she had to look up at him, because it exposed her beautiful throat.
As his blood pounded, he wanted to know what she tasted like. What her naked skin felt like against his own as he pierced her vein and took her inside of him.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m okay with getting burned a little.” She put her hands on his jacket, right over his pecs. “I’m feeling pretty hot right now, for example.”
She was looking pretty fucking hot right now, too. Especially as her lips parted like in her mind, they were already kissing.
Don’t do it, Nate thought. You’re going to lose worse this time.
Good advice.
Too bad he couldn’t take it.
Reaching out, he slipped his hand around the warm nape of her neck. Then he leaned down and hovered his mouth right above Nalla’s.
“Are you sure,” he whispered.
As she curled up grips on his jacket, she rose onto her toes, and she was the one who closed the distance—
Oh, fuck.
Nalla tasted like fresh mint and too-good female, her lips soft under his own—and getting softer as he put more pressure into the slow exploration. God, she smelled amazing, the scent of her arousal burrowing into his brain. All kinds of plans immediately struck him: If they could go back to his place, they could get the kind of privacy that guaranteed—
Nate pulled back abruptly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Well, you do burn me,” she said in a husky voice. “But it feels so good.”
Smoothing a hand over the flyaways around her face, he fucking agreed. He also needed her like she was the last female in the world.
Then again, she was the only one he wanted, so that checked out.
Except he had to think about the future. After all, he was leaving the planet soon. So starting this with her? Was beyond unfair.
“Nalla…”
Her brows pulled together. “Okay, there’s too much regret in the way you say my name like that.”
“It’s not… a good time. For me.”
For a second, she seemed like she was poised to make a joke, a forced smile tilting her mouth. But then she obviously couldn’t follow through with it, and instead took a step back from him, her hands releasing the folds of black leather she’d gripped so tightly.
“Okay.” She shrugged. “If I’m going to beg, it’s because we’re both naked and enjoying ourselves. And that’s not what’s happening here, is it.”
“Goddamn it,” he muttered.
Pacing away from her, he stalked around the dying fire—and wasn’t that really a ball-twister of a commentary on things. When something hit his steel-toed boot, he cursed and bent over to pick up his lighter fluid container.
He paused to read the back label. Well, would ya look at them warnings…
“Stand back,” he growled.
Instead of waiting for her to move, he positioned himself in front of her and then threw the fire starter into the pile.
Nalla immediately cursed. “I don’t think that was a great idea—”
The explosion hit him harder than he’d expected, the blast of heat blowing him backwards so that he took Nalla with him down to the ground. As they landed in the snow, he flipped over and covered her so that she was protected from the fireball, and at least the flare was a short-timer, which was good.
Unfortunately, his clothes didn’t want to leave the party, and the agony was blinding.
As his leather jacket ignited, he flopped over and started rolling in the snow. Nalla was right on it, shoveling handfuls onto him, packing him with more and more until things were extinguished and the pain backed off a little.
As the rush to put him out passed, he lay wherever the hell he’d ended up, panting, head swimming, nose full of the stink of his own burned skin.
Man, he hated barbecue. Especially when he was on the menu.
Nalla’s worried face appeared above his own. “Are you okay?”
Great, he thought. Two nights in a row.
“I’m always okay. Just—”
“Give you a minute,” she finished hoarsely. “Yeah, I’ve been through this before with you, remember.”
With a series of shrugs, she got out of her parka—
“No, no—” He batted a lame hand. “You need to stay warm—”
“Shut up.” She put her hand over his babbling mouth. “Just because you don’t stay dead doesn’t mean you’re not suffering. I’m taking you back to the house and we’re going—”
“I’m not going to Luchas House.”
As she stared down at him, the female was looking like she was in charge. So it was not entirely surprising when she announced in a voice that could have gotten steel I-beams on their feet and marching to her orders:
“Yes, you are.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nalla was done with the arguing. The only thing Nate had more of than willpower was stupidity. The good news? He was too physically compromised to do much about anything. The bad news? Trying to fit him into her parka would be like stuffing a boulder into a backpack. So she put her Patagonia back on, got down beside him, and pushed her arms behind both of his knees and just below his shoulder blades—
Nate hissed in agony.
Oh, God. The leather had melded with his skin. She could feel it—and she knew enough about basic medical care to fear he had third-degree burns over a lot of his back.
This could be fatal. And what if… he didn’t come around again.
“Brace yourself,” she said as she locked her teeth.
“Wait, you can’t lift me—”
Sucking in a deep breath, she punched her feet into the ground, and used all the muscles in her thighs and her ass. It was a hard graft, but she got him up off the snow.
“The hell I can’t carry you,” she grunted.
“I’ll walk—”
As Nate started to shove himself against her hold, she glared at his flushed face. “Cut that out or I’m going to drop you on your head—God, do you always argue with everybody and everything?”
“No,” he snapped.
“Now I know what people feel like around me,” she muttered.
It was not a catwalk model-strut to be sure—although even if she’d been on a level floor and not carrying two hundred fifty pounds of loose-noodle deadweight, she doubted she could ever pull off the Mharta routine with her hips. But she made it through the woods, and what a relief to get out of all the cloying branches and underbrush. In the meadow proper, she made better time, although it was a trudge, her lungs burning and making her think of her saying she didn’t mind getting burned.
Ask, and ye shall receive.
Nate, meanwhile, was not doing well. His lips were peeled off his fangs, and his raw, singed hands were clawed up in front of his chest like he was trying to limit the contact he had with anything.
It was a toss-up as to what would hurt him more: Lying in the snow, waiting for death and then the revival to come, or this trip to the house, his raw back exposed, all the jostling and bumping making things worse for him. And what if he didn’t die out in the forest? He’d just be out in the elements, suffering.
What a mess—
“You… shouldn’t… take me inside,” he gritted. “Too upsetting… for them to see… me…”
“I already… thought… of that…”
Well. Weren’t they twinsies, a little panting duo.
Halfway to goal, she had to stop and catch her breath. She wanted to put him down, but she was afraid if she did, she wouldn’t have the strength to lift him again. Besides, as bad as things were on his injured back now, laying him out in the snow?
That was going to kill him for sure.
“You… know… something…” she said between gasping inhales.
“… what…”
“I’m… really… fucking tired… of you… dying on me.”
As wind whipped around them, her eyes sought the only light in her tunnel, the only light there was: The farmhouse off in the distance. Her brain told her it was just about three hundred yards away. Her body was convinced it was more like seven hundred and fifty thousand miles.
She started walking again because the only thing worse than going forward was staying put and her strength draining out completely.
Left foot. Right foot. Left foot…
And that was how it went. Meanwhile, the house seemed to be on some kind of rail system that drew it farther and farther away, the closer she got. Every time she stumbled or thought of pulling another pause, she stared harder at the lights and thought of how much it would hurt to be burned and in the cold, in the snow.
Nate’s suffering was her motivation.
“What,” he groaned.
She glanced into his pasty face. “Huh?”
Those blurry eyes sought her own, and seemed to focus the way she was on the house. “You keep… saying my… name.”
Nalla shook her head. “No, I… don’t.”
“Yes, you… do.”
“Shut up.” The chuckle she got back was not right. “That is… not funny…”
Nate started laughing in earnest. “This whole… situation is so… totally fucked up. Oh, my God… ow, ow, ow… don’t make… me… laugh—”
“I’m not!”
“You… are…”
“I’m…” She choked out a laugh. A couple of times. “Not… funny…”
She had no idea what was happening. One minute, she was on fire from exertion while getting a burn victim to a house where no one could find out he was under the roof because of the condition he was in. The next, she was laughing, too. So hard, she lost hold of him and they both fell into the snow in a tangle.
As they both howled and giggled and snorted at absolutely nothing, and everything at once, she had a thought, in the way back of her brain, that there were so many different ways to release emotion. You could curse. You could throw things. You could run until you fell down. You could trap it inside and go banked geyser ’til you lost your shit.
You could cry until your eyes swelled up and your nose plugged solid and ran at the same time.
Or… you could ride the magic carpet of funny-for-no-damned-reason.
With someone who was in the same shitty situation you were.
* * *
When their laughter finally dimmed, Nate brushed at his face and tried to catch his breath as he glanced over at the female who was next to him in the snow. Nalla’s cheeks were bright red and her hair was smudged this way and that out of her ponytail and her lips were rosy and smiling. She looked younger. Or maybe the dark humor just erased the sorrow that he hadn’t noticed lurking behind her eyes until it was gone.
She was so strong, she hid her unhappiness well, but she was grieving for something.
Just like he was.
As she exhaled and clearly tried to pull it together, he reached up to her face and moved a strand of hair out of her eye.
All of a sudden, everything got serious. To the point where he didn’t feel the cold anymore. Or the pain… outside of him—or inside.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh.” Now he touched her cheek even though there wasn’t anything to give him an excuse to. “And you were s-s-s-saying my name. Over and over a-a-again.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You’re l-l-l-lying.”
She took a deep breath. “Your teeth are chattering.”
“Are they? I d-d-didn’t notice. You kind of m-m-m-make me forget things… that hurt.”
Nalla blinked like she was clearing tears out of those uncanny yellow eyes of hers. “Can I please get you inside?”
“I’m not d-d-d-dying.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She put her hand in his. “Dying isn’t the only measure. You ever hear about that thing called quality of life.”
“Read about it s-s-somewhere. And I c-c-can walk.”
She stood up, and before he could tell her no, stop, he didn’t need the help—or d-d-d-d-didn’t n-n-n-n-need h-h-h-h-help, as was the case—she reached down and pulled him to his unsteady feet. Throwing his arm across her shoulders, she grabbed his waist and they were off, hobbling through the snowy meadow.
As the wind swirled around them, he glanced back at how far they’d come—how far she’d carried him. “You d-d-don’t give up, do you.”
“No, I don’t.”
On that note, he concentrated on not falling over and taking her with him.
“We’re going in through the garage’s back door,” she said as they got within range of the farmhouse. “And up the stairs by the mudroom. Group will have just started. No one will see us.”
The last thing he wanted to do was go back inside that house. But what choice did he have? If he got a couple of hours of rest, he’d be healed up enough to dematerialize off the property—and just as he was coming to the conclusion that he’d cross the Arctic Circle with her if she asked, they arrived at the garage and she got them in quick by punching a code on a keypad. The rear stairs were a fucking bitch, and even though he wouldn’t have admitted it if asked, there was no way he’d have made it down the hall to the bedroom she picked for him without her support.
“Here we go,” she said as she closed them in together.
He let a little momentum and a lot of gravity take him over to the bed and he sprawled on the thing face-first—and that was when he scented her. Burrowing his face into the pillows, he breathed in deep and felt a primal thrill that she’d brought him to where she’d slept.
“Let me help you get your… um, clothes off?”
His eyebrows popped even as his puss stayed in her pillow. Then he turned his head and looked at her around his burned-ass shoulder.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said in a deep voice.
Nalla crossed her arms over her chest in that way she did, with her eyes sparkling and her chin kicking up. “And I thought you said now wasn’t a good time for you.”
“Considering you just carried me through the woods and that damn meadow? Looks like I’ve changed my mind.”
The fact that it was only for tonight was something he kept to himself. But not because he was being a shithead.
The idea of never hearing that laugh of hers again depressed the ever-living shit out of him and he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Twenty miles to the south and west, Zsadist was back in Caldie’s Financial District, stalking Market Street the same way he’d played promenade on the night before. No Tesla. No cop-bots getting shot. Nothing to fix at the moment, and no dogfight with a first-degree relative.
But what was the old saying? The night was still young. Who the fuck knew what was coming next.
As he jumped off the curb and cut across the opening of an alley, he was glad Nalla was still out at Luchas House. V had provided an update thanks to the security cameras there, and as good news went, he supposed it was better than almost everything that had been reported yesterday.
Well, Wrath being back had been hand of God shit. Hand of… Rahvyn, that was. But everything else had been shit, and as a result, he and Bella had been up all day, worried about Nalla. The text she’d sent them an hour before dawn from one of the social workers’ phones hadn’t helped much—and he disagreed with his shellan. He didn’t think their daughter needed space. The three of them needed to hash things out so that she saw he was right, stopped whatever the hell she was doing with Nate, and came the fuck home—
“And no, I’m not too hard on her.” A horn blared next to him and he sent the passing Volvo a glare even though the problem it was having was with someone else.
“I’m keeping her alive, goddamn it,” he said to a Kia who was also hitting its brakes.
On that note, he needed to get his head in the game.
As he pushed all his domestic fucking bliss away, it was a relief to focus on the war with the Lessening Society: Courtesy of a lesser who had fallen into Brotherhood hands, intel had been extracted that there was a slayer induction site down here somewhere. Interesting location choice, but he could see the logic. With so many people working from home, a lot of the downtown office space was just full of computer servers, data-mining farms, or robotic manufacturing for chips and processors.
