Page 168 of Savage Hearts
“I dunno, I think he might be better off.”
“What makes you say that?”
“There probably aren’t too many people trying to kill short-order cooks.”
“Good point. And Kieran? I’ve been worrying about him.”
“He’s a tank, that guy. Three shots to the torso and he lived! Declan put him on leave for a while, but he’s back on the job.” She turns her head and smiles at me. “He’s almost as tough as you.”
“Yeah, we mouse deer with the tiny fang-like tusks are super badass.”
When she makes a confused face, I say, “Forget it. Inside joke.”
Then I’m depressed. Abruptly, completely depressed, and longing for Mal with such a fierce ache, I can hardly draw a breath.
I whisper, “He let me go.He let me go.”
“It sounds like he was trying to protect you.”
“I know he was, but what an asshole!”
“You don’t think he’s an asshole.”
“Yes, I really do!”
She quirks her lips and looks at me sideways. “Remember inTwilightwhen Edward left Bella to protect her even though it killed him to do it, and you thought that was the most romantic thing you’d ever heard?”
“No!”
“Shut up. Yes, you do.”
“I hated that movie!”
“Yeah, but you loved all the books. And youlooovedEdward, Mr. Broody Telepathic Vampire who would sacrifice anything for his dumb-as-rocks human girlfriend, including his own life.”
I think of Mal’s self-sacrificing tendencies and his love of bitey sex, and have to admit she might have a point. “So you’re saying I’m the dumb-as-rocks human girlfriend in this scenario.”
“No, I’m saying you don’t really think Mal’s an asshole. You think he’s the bee’s knees.”
“Who says that? What are you, eighty?”
Breezing past that, she muses, “You know what’s funny? Nobody ever mentions that Edward was like a hundred years old and Bella was only seventeen. Talk about perving on a baby.”
I grimace at the image of my dear Edward Cullen as a child molester. “Thanks for ruining my favorite book series for me.”
“Ha! I knew you lovedTwilight!”
I grumble, “Whatever. And he didn’t leave Bella untilNew Moon.”
We lie there in companionable silence for a long time, until I sit up and scrub my hands over my face. “God, this is a fucked-up situation.”
Sloane props herself up on her elbows and gazes at me thoughtfully. “We might be looking at this the wrong way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, between you, me, and Nat, we have the three most powerful men in the U.S. and Russia totally pussy whipped.”
I say drily, “Always the incurable romantic.”
