Page 54 of Taste of Blood
“I guess I should call him back.” He looks around for his phone and I hand it to him.
“You’re not going back out there tonight.”
He offers a half-hearted grin. “Yes, boss.”
I stand up and head for the bedroom. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
I hate leaving him unsupervised for even a minute. He’s just stubborn enough to try to leave, especially after talking to Dante. I wouldn’t put it past that animal to talk him into getting right back out there.
I give him ten minutes then rejoin him in the livingroom, relieved to see he’s still there.
“Everything okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. Zeke made it back with Joshua. Dante was just worried about me.”
Yeah, I’ll bet he was. “You feel up to taking a shower?”
He looks down at himself. “I guess I should get some of this blood off me.”
I gather his clothes and head for the washer. “Need any help?”
He wobbles a little when he stands, but uses his hand on the back of the couch to steady himself. “No, I think I got it.”
“Too bad,” I murmur under my breath as he ducks into the bedroom.
19: Cord
IT’S ALMOST WORTH getting wounded for another trip to Asher’s shower. I let the steam soothe my aches and pains for longer than I should before drying off and taking inventory of my body.
That fucker with the sword caught me good across the abdomen. I’m lucky he was swiping instead of stabbing. Not sure I would’ve had the control to make it here if I’d been run through with that blade. I shudder to think what could have happened if I’d succumbed to blood fever in public. Dante would be hunting me down.
Which brings me back to why I came here. The last thing I wanted to do was involve Asher in any of this. He already hates my lifestyle, and I’m sure this didn’t improve his opinion.
So why did I come here instead of going back to the warehouse with Zeke and Joshua? Dante could’ve taken care of me; granted not in the same style, but I would’ve survived.
Was it my subconscious that led me back to Asher? I wasn’t lying when I said I trusted him. I do, with my life. But that’s just it. Letting him help me gives him power over me, and I know how much Asher likes power.
Then again, maybe I’m overthinking this. Asher has been insisting he’s changed, and while I have a hard time believing that, everything he’s done since we reconnected has backed uphis claim. Granted, he’s still an elitist snob at times, but he hasn’t once berated or criticized me, even when I gave him reason to.
Would it be so bad to give him the benefit of the doubt?
I recall our encounter in the alley last week. No one, and I meanno one, can satisfy me like Asher. I swear he knows me better than I know myself. At least he always seems to know what I need.
Just thinking about him is getting me hard, and I certainly don’t need that going in there right now when I’m trying to recover my strength.
Apparently my cock has other ideas on that subject.
“You okay in there?” the subject of my current dilemma calls out.
I wrap a towel around my waist and open the door. “Yeah. Just getting a look at my wounds.”
He hands me a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. I start to say something about his clothes not fitting me when I realize they’re mine. Did he keep them all this time?
“You should probably rest. Your body is still healing. Do you want me to order in more blood?”
“No. I’m good,” I say as I pull on the clothes. “I think I will sit down though. Still a little light-headed.”
I make my way out to the livingroom and plop down on the couch, reaching for the half-finished glass of vodka I left and draining it.
