Page 88 of Aberrant Monsters
“He did?” My stomach fluttered.
“Yeah.” She eyed me for several long seconds. “August, are you falling for Telarion?”
Her words were like a gut punch. “Hell no. Are you nuts?” The words exploded from my lips before I could check them, purely defensive. I felt Telarion stir inside me.
Shit.
Had he heard? Of course he’d heard.
“August, you don’t have to pretend with me,” Nandi said.
“I’m not, Nandi. None of this is real, okay. He’s bound to me, inside me like nearly all the fucking time. Of course emotions will get tangled, but it isn’t real. It doesn’tmeananything.” I sounded like I was pleading with her to agree. “Urgh. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m grateful to Telarion for saving my life on numerous occasions and I’ve grown to respect him, but that’s all. There is no more.”
There couldn’t be. Not when I wasn’t sure what I felt was real or even reciprocated because, yes, I felt stuff. Things that confused and scared me because I had no idea who or what I was feeling these things for.
“You need to let Quentin know what’s happening to you,” Nandi said.
“No way am I telling him what happened.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not the details, just the hunger for life force part.” Nandi covered my hand with hers. “It could be important, could mean that things are progressing faster than they should and that the Order needs to help you now. Sooner rather than later.”
She was right. “Okay, I’ll speak to him in a bit.”
Nandi patted my hand and stood. “Archie and I will meet you at Real Deal. I just want to go over the statements we have from the other renters before we hit Huntingdon Manor tonight. I’ve packed your overnight stuff too.” She pointed to a backpack by my dresser.
“That’s cos you love me.”
“I totally do. Now get showered, you reek of sexy time.”
She left me to my coffee, my thoughts, and an aching stillness inside me that told me that Telarion had retreated fully and completely, leaving me wondering how much he’d heard of our conversation and how it had affected him, because I cared. Of course I cared.
I just wasn’t sure how much.
Not yet anyway.
* * *
Quentin wasn’tin his room, and honestly, I shouldn’t be either, but who could give up a chance to snoop through their mysterious handler’s stuff. His desk was empty except for the laptop, closed now. His bed was neatly made, so neat you’d think he hadn’t even slept in it. I pulled out a couple of drawers to see neatly folded shirts and paired-up socks.
Geez, someone was OCD about their shit. A quick survey of the bathroom showed it to be sparkling clean, not a pubic hair in sight. Not that I was looking for hairs, but it looked as if he’d scrubbed the room with bleach. But wait, what was that on the tiles? Looked like a sprinkling of dirt.
Ha, not so meticulous after all.
“August, what are you doing in here?”
I spun, hand on heart, to find my uncle standing in the bathroom doorway clutching a pile of clean towels.
“I was snooping.” I winced. I’d never been much of a liar and my uncle had the kind of face that was impossible to lie to.
“Quentin is in the dining room working out.”
My brows shot up. “He works out.”
“How do you think he keeps his impressive physique?”
Now I’d suspected for a long time that my Uncle Fred was into dudes, but he never brought anyone home. Ever. And I had never asked. I mean, so what if he was gay? I wouldn’t ask if I thought he was straight so why ask if he was gay.
Still, it was comments like this that solidified my assessment.
