Page 22 of The Vampire's Thirst
“On the floor in the bathroom.”
“Slob. I’m not the maid. Take care of your own crap.”
Chiara slapped a hand over her eyes, curling deeper into the comfortable chair when Dax flopped onto the couch. His thighs spread, he tossed an arm across the back cushions. “I’m an Aeternal from Scath. I can’t get home easily without my D-chip. That’s what they dug out of my wrist. I’ll stick around for a bit. Until I figure out a way back.”
She peeked through her fingers. “Can you get decent? Close your legs and stop exposing your boy bits.”
Dax arched a brow. “Boy bits? Hardly.”
He swung his legs onto the sofa and sprawled out. His biceps flexed as he plopped a pillow under his neck and locked his hands behind his head. The towel perched precariously on his hips but covered the essentials. She would ignore his long, powerful legs, slabs of chest muscle, and the trail of dark hair leading from his navel to the towel.
Yikes.
Solution. Ernest’s clothes. He was a big guy, too. Of course, everything Dax had was distributed differently. She jumped up, rushing to the laundry room where she had folded her neighbor’s clean clothes, having forgotten to give them to him when he’d stopped by for the arthritis concoction.
She flung them at Dax. “Put these on, please.”
Standing, he let the towel fall. She spun around on her heel and squeezed her eyes tight. The man had no decency.
He chuckled. “You can look.”
Ernest’s pants hung low on his hips, but the XX shirt stretched snug across his chest and arms.
Chiara returned to her comfortable chair. Back to the subject.Aeternals.Leaning forward, she rested elbows on her thighs. “You mean you live forever?”
“No. When Gahya created us, we were near immortal. Somewhere in time, we contracted a virus, probably as a punishment. At least, that’s what the myth-tellers say. But who knows the truth?”
“Gahya?”
“Another story. Let me finish with the one about Scath and Aeternals first.”
****
Tyrcranked his bike to top speed, screeched into the parking lot, slamming on the brakes, and hustling into the Ministry of Well Being.
Sabine, a tall female whose breasts Barbie would admire, paced in the hallway. When her head whipped around at his entry, two long blonde braids pitched over her shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” asked the warlock. “Is she worse?”
“No. She just won’t shut up about you. Tyr this. Tyr that. It’s enough to make a grown nymph gag. She’s driving her blood pressure and mine through the roof. The healers ordered me to find you. To muzzle her, I think. Now get in there to take care of the female.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Sabine flicked her braids over her breasts and tootled goodbye on her way out.
Tyr thundered into the patient’s room, his boots pounding an angry rhythm on the tile. “What gives? Why me?” His expression remained grim despite the vision that greeted him. The female rested against the headboard, long, bare legs stretched out beneath an ugly blue medical gown. Thick strawberry hair curled around her shoulders, large smoky blue eyes veiled by dark lashes looked his way, and a moist tongue flicked out to stroke her plump lips. All of this and an innocent heart-shaped face. Tyr didn’t do innocent. Or Blood Coven witches.
Thefemme fatalearched one brow, gave him a barely-there smile, and spoke in a honeyed voice which suggested hot sultry nights and fucking. “Hello. Nice to see you again.”
Tyr fought the urge to cup his ears, muffling the siren’s song before he crashed onto the rocks like Ulysses. “I’m here.”
“Thank you for coming. First, I need out of this place. I’m supposed to go somewhere called the stronghold. Second, we need to find Celene. She counted on me to bring help. That woman … Sabine … said you’re a Scion Firebrand, and you guys are looking for humans who were brought to wherever it is we are. Since it’s your job anyway, you can help me find Celene and get us home.”
She might be sugar-coating the request with politeness, but Tyr sensed a command behind the words. Since he didn’t respond well to commands, he did what he did best. He shelled out his Goth-warlock stare which toppled even crazed berserkers. “First, you get out of this place when the healers say you do. Second, I am not your babysitter or one-male rescue team. I will find someone who can help you locate this Celene.”
With a tap of his wrist, he explained the situation to Kole.
After he disconnected from the convo, he ran fingers through his spiked black hair. “Keep your ass on the bed while I talk to the healer.”
