Page 23 of First Blood
“Yeah,” he said softly. Despite my misgivings, I was about to turn and go…and then he looked up at me through his lashes, and I couldn’t look away. Even in the dim light of the single bulb on the ceiling, and even red-rimmed and puffy from crying, his eyes glittered like gems. “If I need to. But I’d rather not.”
I swallowed hard. Fuck. “You want me to…help you get in the shower?”
He blinked at me slowly. “You could probably use a shower too.” One of his hands fluttered at me in a gesture that encompassed the tattered, blood-soaked remains of my shirt, the melting snow and dead leaves and dirt all over me, and the still-closing wounds in my chest and stomach. Right. He wasn’t being suggestive, he was making a rational suggestion. Laurie tugged at the button on his jeans. “And my fingers are numb.”
I stared down at the front of his jeans. Probably not the place I should’ve been staring if I wanted to put him at his ease, but I couldn’t stop thinking how glad I was he still had them on. What it would’ve meant if they’d been already torn off of him when I arrived. I owed Doran more than I could ever repay for getting me here so quickly.
And now I had to take them off, which meant…taking them off.
My fingers weren’t frozen like Laurie’s, but they still felt like huge clumsy sausages as I set my hands on the waistband of his jeans and started to undo that button. He sucked in a breath as my fingers brushed against his abdomen, the muscles contracting. Laurie’s tiny waist looked so fucking fragile. He was toned, but he was too thin. I could count his ribs. He needed to lie in bed and be hand-fed pastry and strawberries and ice cream until his ribs disappeared, until the lines around his mouth disappeared too and were replaced by the creases of frequent smiles.
He deserved better than being undressed in a musty bathroom by a killer. He deserved better than what life had dealt him, period.
The button popped and I pulled his zipper down, the sound almost too loud in the stillness. He wasn’t wearing anything under the jeans. His dark-blond hair was trimmed short.
I tried to push the pants down his legs, but damp, tight denim clung like a bitch, and I had to crouch to work them over his thighs. The cock that emerged as I tugged the jeans down was as pretty as the rest of him, in proportion to his body and the perfect size to fit in my mouth — which was six inches away.
“Lift your feet for me,” I muttered, and he did, one at a time, letting me get the jeans the rest of the way off. He’d warmed up a tiny bit, and the scent of him rose from his exposed skin. It went to my head, and my fangs tried to drop. After losing so much blood, I needed to feed, but that, along with a lot of other things, would have to wait. “Get in the shower,” I said, setting his foot back on the floor. “I’ll be right back. I need to do a couple of things before I get clean.” Like dragging corpses around in the blood-churned snow, which wasn’t something he needed to hear about in detail. “Don’t make the water too hot, even if it doesn’t feel warm enough. You need to warm up slowly, or you might lose a toe. And stay in the shower until the water starts to get cold or you have normal sensation in all your extremities. Okay?”
Laurie nodded, and I took his elbow to help him in, only backing away once he’d propped himself up against the wall.
Water sluiced down his body, highlighting every plane and angle. God, he looked delicious.
I ducked out of the bathroom before I could do anything even stupider than I’d managed so far that night.
It only took me a few minutes to clean up, the side effect of lots of practice. I searched the bodies quickly and efficiently, taking weapons and wallets and phones and tossing the latter two categories into the front seat of the SUV. The guns I’d take back inside with me, just in case anyone came around later in the night. The bodies went in a heap in the cargo space in the back. Esther would delegate someone to go through their stuff looking for useful information, and then dispose of everything. On that note, I texted her an update and got back,Now six trolls. Will send team in AM. Which was Esther-speak forI’m glad you’re alive, but fuck off until morning.
The front room of the cabin was a total loss, so I didn’t even bother, instead going in the kitchen to see what I could find. It offered an electric kettle and a few old, dusty packages of this and that; I made a cup of instant cocoa for Laurie and took it through into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me again. The wall held an ancient brass thermostat, and I cranked it up to the maximum and prayed to the propane gods.
I put the mug down on the nightstand by the double bed, switching on the small lamp at the same time. At least the bed was made, with a couple of patchwork quilts draped over it. Whoever owned this cabin obviously made some effort to keep it homey, and they were not going to be fucking happy.
But I’d pay for the damages, and for now, I was just grateful they’d left it usable enough to keep Laurie warm for the night.
The shower was still running, so I opened the wardrobe crammed in the corner. I made a mental note to pay the owners of the cabin a lot more than damages, because someone had left some flannel shirts, various sweatpants, and an old, extra-large blue t-shirt with a worn-off football team logo. Not exactly high fashion, but warm. I pulled out the smaller pants and one of the flannels for Laurie, figuring I could manage with what was left.
The shower turned off. Should I go in? Did he want my help? I was filthy and gross, and it was probably creepy to be standing there in the bedroom waiting for him.
I didn’t have time to do anything about it. There was some rustling and a soft sigh, and a second later, Laurie stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist. His skin didn’t have a bluish cast to it anymore, which was good, but he was worryingly pale, and his eyes weren’t quite focused. And he’d already started to shiver again.
He looked me up and down, his expression unreadable. Or maybe he was so worn out he didn’t even have it in him to have an expression.
“There’s some clothes there,” I said. “Put them on, get in bed, wrap all the blankets around you, and drink up. I’m going to rinse off.”
I couldn’t touch him until I had. I was covered in blood, andIdidn’t even want to touch me. Laying a single hand on him felt like sacrilege. I was trying not to notice, because I liked to think I could be a gentleman from time to time, but he was naked except for the towel. And the cabin only had the one bed.
Hopefully Laurie hadn’t left any warm water. Freezing, snowy night or no, I needed the cold water before I dared to get in it with him.
“I don’t think I left any hot water,” Laurie said, making me jump. Was he supernatural after all? “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“That makes two of us,” I muttered. “Get dressed, Laurie. I don’t care about the hot water.”
I waited until he passed me so I wouldn’t run the risk of brushing up against him, and fled into the bathroom like the hounds of hell were after me. The door shut a little too firmly behind me when I shoved it.
My filthy clothes, or what was left of them, went on the floor, and I got in the cold shower.
Not much reason to linger, so I scrubbed as best I could with the ancient sliver of cracked and dust-streaked soap and called it a day.
And then realized I’d left the rest of the clothes in the bedroom. No big deal. There was a towel — a towel far too small for me.
