Page 32 of Surface Scratch
Marcus’s black-and-amber eyes widened. “You… you really think that?” he asked, his voice wavering.
Caleb nodded, looking away. “I hope that’s not weird,” he muttered. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide this part of yourself from me.”
“You still want to be with me?” Marcus asked, eyes wide with surprise.
“If you’ll have me,” Caleb said softly. He held his breath and leaned forward, his gaze drifting up and down Marcus’s face, pausing on his eyes before falling to his lips. He closed the distance between them, his lips pressing softly against Marcus’s.
As Marcus reciprocated, Caleb felt that familiar total-body fluttering feeling. Warmth spread through him as Marcus wrapped his arms around him and the last of his doubt and apprehension melted away.
Chapter Ten
Caleb sucked in a pained breath through his teeth as Marcus dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton swab against the wound on his neck. His hair still dripped from the shower he’d taken in Marcus’s en suite bathroom. It was probably the best shower he’d ever had, or at least the best one in recent memory. The water got warm right away and the pressure of the showerhead made his sore muscles relax. He hadn’t realized how much pain he was in at first, but Marcus had told him they’d given him painkillers while he was unconscious to keep him comfortable, so it made sense that the real feeling was finally settling in as their effects faded.
“Sorry,” Marcus said. He placed a pad of gauze over the spot, securing it with two strips of tape. “This will heal faster than most wounds, and it won’t leave a scar, so you don’t have to worry about that too much.”
Caleb let out a small laugh. “I’m not too worried about scars.” He gestured to the patchy skin on his shoulder and upper arm.
Marcus glanced down. “Skin graft?”
“Yeah.” He shuddered at the memory of the nurses trying to remove what remained of his burned shirt and his blackened skin going with it. “The car caught fire before the firefighters could pull me out. Now I’m left with this ugly thing on my shoulder.”
Marcus frowned at him, crouching down to eye level. “You said you wouldn’t call yourself ugly,” he said, his mouth forming what looked like a pout.
Caleb smiled and shook his head. “I said I wouldn’t call myself ugly. I’m referring only to the shoulder.”
“Your shoulder is a part of you. It applies to all of you.” Marcus pressed his lips to the patchy, textured skin. “Can you feel that?”
“I can, it just feels different, kinda dull,” Caleb explained. “The nerve endings don’t really connect the right way.”
“Either way, I won’t hear any more slander of your gorgeous self,” Marcus said. He grabbed a towel and tossed it over Caleb’s head, rubbing vigorously.
Caleb batted his hands away to pull the towel down. “I can dry my own hair.” He laughed.
“I want to take care of you.” Marcus pouted again. “Come on, I can smell Ophelia making a mess in the kitchen. Shall we go see what she’s burning?”
Caleb grinned and stood up with him, trying to force away the undoubtedly dumb look on his face as Marcus threw an arm over his shoulders as they exited the bedroom and made their way down the hall. He had spent the night—or was it day?—in Marcus’s bed, drifting in and out of sleep, still a little unsure if he had lost his mind or if he was just being reckless. It was easy to forget about the whole vampire thing when he was distracted by pushing down the overwhelming urge to go out to the living room where Marcus slept and ask if he wanted to join Caleb in bed.
As they walked into the living room, Caleb glanced around. There were no windows in the apartment whatsoever, though he could see the vague outline of brick-and-mortar patching over wherever the windows had once been. Part of him wondered if that was the reason for Ophelia’s chronic grumpiness—the lack of sunlight and vitamin D.
“I need a shirt,” Caleb mumbled to Marcus, suddenly aware of the fact that he had spent the better portion of three days without one.
“On the contrary, I’m perfectly fine with this,” Marcus said before planting a kiss on his cheek.
As they approached the kitchen island, he found his gaze fixated on Ophelia as she danced in place at the stove, her hair bundled into two high balls on her head in a way that made her resemble a cartoon mouse. She had a bright pink racerback tank top on and matching baggy pajama pants. She looked incredibly different from what he was used to, in a way that made him want to laugh, but he knew if he did, she might end up flinging whatever she was cooking in his direction, so he held it in.
“She thinks she’s a good cook, so just go along with it,” Marcus whispered in his ear.
Marcus’s cool breath on his ear sent a shiver up Caleb’s spine. “So you can eat regular food?” he asked, trying to shift the subject away from the places his mind was going.
“If there’s blood mixed into it after it’s cooked, yes,” Marcus said. He pulled out a tall chair for Caleb to sit on.
“Well, look who’s finally up,” Ophelia said without turning around. She fiddled with the plates set out on the counter as Caleb sat down. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” Caleb replied. She turned around and set one plate in front of him and one in front of herself. He looked down at the pile of eggs and burned bacon nearly overflowing the plate, his stomach lurching and growling at the same time. He was hungry, but he wasn’t sure exactly what she had done to that food. Was she still trying to feed him to Marcus? What if he took a bite and it was laced with something?
Ophelia slid a fork across the island to him. She still looked pale, but not as gray as she had the day before after the blood transfusion. It was still weird for him to think about her having given him her blood.
Marcus sat down beside him and cleared his throat. “Ophelia.”
