Page 99 of Close Quarter
That never occurred to him. He inspected Silas's profile. "You have all that?" And what did he look like in a photograph anyway? Did his glamour appear on camera?
Silas shrugged. "I do. To live in the world, you need such things now."
Vampires didn't live. They preyed. Rhys suppressed a shudder. "How? I mean, I guess they're faked, but you'd have to keep getting..."
Silas turned. "I have an exceptionally good lawyer." The amusement in his expression shifted to worry. "If I don't survive..."
"Don't."
"Please. This is important."
"You're not going to die." Rhys stepped closer to the map. "So there's nothing to discuss."
Stillness behind him, then a sigh. "Do you know who Justin Peters is?"
Thatlawyer? Good God. A million bucks an hour, or something like that. Rhys placed a finger on the engine area. The decks below that held fuel, water, and ballast. "Of Peters, Sebastian, and August?"
"Yes." Silas paused. "If something ever happens to me, go to him. He'll know what to do."
"Nothing is going to happen to you." Rhys studied the map as best he could, considering his damn eyes kept blurring. "I don't want to talk about this."
Silas kept his mouth shut. All he did was brush the back of his hand over Rhys's cheek.
Rhys jerked away. "Are you going to help me here or not?" If Silas kept talking like this, he'd lose it. Life without Silas was incomprehensible.
There was no other path. He tapped the map.
"Shall we start here?"
Silas studied the layout. "Near the engines would be too hot," he said. "The smells would carry too much." Flat tone, clipped accent. No emotion.
Smells. This time Rhys couldn't suppress the chill that ran down his spine. His heart ticked up a beat as a memory of cold darkness, the sharp stab of heat, and the ever-present scent of earth and blood invaded his senses. Silas's memory.
Someone rooting around in his side.
Rhys ripped off the lid of his cup and downed the rest of his coffee--as warm as it was--in one gulp. His eyes stung. "The storage areas, then."
His voice sounded rough and high to his ears.
"It's a good place to start." Silas moved closer and wrapped his free arm around Rhys's waist.
They stood like that for some time, staring at the ship plans. It was only once he stopped that Rhys realized he'd been trembling.
Finally Silas spoke. "It happened long ago."
"But it did happen." The torture. The pain.
"Yes."
The bitter but comforting smell of coffee drifted between them, a much better scent than the iron tang of blood. "I'm going to make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again." The words poured from Rhys, from his soul. "If I have to beg the angels to make me a sword."
"Are you to be my protector, then?"
"Aren't I already?"
Silas pulled him closer. "The world is certainly strange and full of surprises. Even after all these years."
Rhys took Silas's cup, shoved it into his own, and then planted a kiss onto Silas's lips. "We should get started."
