Page 25 of Twice Bitten
“No, the mate’s the one from the back seat, I think. Can you see their bond?” That sounded like the blond healer, and that must make him Arik.
“Oh, yeah,” the first voice said. Nate. Now I recognized it from over the phone. “That’s the ugliest bond I’ve ever seen. Like a fucking corkscrew. And all attenuated.”
“I didn’t think you could use polysyllabic words without Starbucks,” Arik sniped.
“How’s this for polysyllabic?”
Arik snorted, something between a scoff and an unwilling laugh, and I smiled again. Nate’s accompanying hand gesture must have been particularly obscene.
“Angelo,” Jack whispered. “Are you healed enough for me to pick you up and move you?”
Pick me up? He didn’t have to pick me up.
“You don’t have to,” I slurred. Then again, I couldn’t really feel my legs. Not in a bad way. Just in a “I’m too blissed-out to care about mundane limbs” sort of way.
Jack’s laugh rumbled through me and sent aftershocks through my lower half—the part I could feel, anyway. I let out a helpless, high-pitched little moan, and Jack groaned deep in his chest.
“Answer the question, sweetheart,” he said very low. “Come on. Healed or not?”
Sweetheart. My fingers clenched around his jacket. Oh, gods. If only.
“Healed,” I mumbled.
He lifted his head and I made a little whimpery noise of protest. Distantly, I knew I ought to be so incredibly embarrassed by my own behavior, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He felt too good wrapped around me like this, and I didn’t want him to separate us even a tiny bit.
“I need to take him somewhere warm and get him settled down for a while,” Jack said. Him? Oh, he wasn’t talking to me. “He says he’s healed enough to move, but I think he needs a bed.”
A laugh rang out. “Yeah, I bet you think he needs a bed,” Nate crowed. “Yeah, fine. We can deal with this. Should we bother healing the guy in the trunk? He’s a mess.”
“Can’t say I care either way,” Jack said. Cold. I snuggled even closer, inhaling his wonderful, heady scent and savoring the warmth of him against my chilled nose. I loved a ruthless man. As long as his ruthlessness wasn’t aimed at me. A little hypocritical, but I could own it.
A new, deeper voice said, “Nate, why don’t you walk them to the pack house and get them settled in. We’ll deal with the prisoners. You look cold and you need some coffee, right?”
“Always trying to get me out of the way when you think the job’s too dirty for me,” Nate grumbled, but it didn’t have any bite to it. In fact, he sounded so affectionate it bordered on gag-inducing. It made me smile anyway. Everything was making me smile. “Okay, bring Angelo. Let’s get going. It is cold.”
Before I could react, Jack had slipped his arm under my knees and stood, lifting me smoothly with my head still cradled on his shoulder.
Gods, that felt good. And the motion as he started to walk rocked me into a drugged, smiling slumber.
***
When I woke up, the feeding-induced high had completely worn off, leaving me blinking up at a dusty, cobwebbed off-white ceiling and feeling cold, tired, and bereft.
Clean, though.
And wearing surprisingly little clothing under the heavy pile of blankets that someone had spread on top of me.
I lifted the edge of the heap, peering underneath to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
Nope, nothing but my black undershirt and turquoise boxer briefs. At least I’d had the foresight to put on spiffy underwear yesterday before I headed out to the bar.
Although they had a damp patch on the front from when I’d…Jesus, I couldn’t even think about it without the top of my head trying to pop off from mortification.
I lifted my head and took a look around to distract myself from my shame. This had to be the Armitage pack house, simply by inference, but good gods, someone who lived here had execrable taste. The orange-and-brown patterned tile fronting the wall by a small fireplace would’ve disgusted Jimmy Carter.
Jack had to be somewhere nearby; I could catch the faint scent of him, and…oh, gods. I couldsensehim.
I dropped back into the pillows, my hands over my face.
