“No,” he said, giving me a grateful look. “I can manage.”
He did get the clothes on, but I had to help him off the bed. Once he was up, he brought my hand to his lips. And licked it.
“Dude! What the hell!” I had one arm around his back. The other, clasped in his, badly wanted to wipe itself down the creamy white shirt that hung on him like a tent. That, more than anything, told me this room belonged to Admes. I hadn’t caught his scent earlier. But now it would always be intertwined with the memory of the hurt in Trayton’s eyes as he moved away from me and I caught a whiff of dead leaves. “Sorry,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re part wolf. I just—I don’t know a helluva lot about how you guys operate.”
“Growling usually means get away,” he said, his voice shaking enough that I looked at him again. And realized I’d never given myself the chance to see him until now. With him kissing the hem of Death’s robes, why would I want to imprint the memory of a kid barely out of his teens with a mane of raven hair that kept flopping into his eyes? A face that had just found the sharp angles and planes of manhood. And that by-God-I-will expression that assured me he’d do his part when it came time to get well.
Now that face would forever be tied with what I’d learned of him during my donation. That he’d rather run than eat. He hated the taste of beer but would never admit it to his friends. And he’d promised himself to a Were named Phoebe, but kept putting off the final ceremony because, deep down, he feared she’d be a bad mother.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “It’s kind of a hereditary thing. My dad’s a growler. Although he sounds more like a garbage disposal trying to process a set of flatware.”
Quirk of the lips, so reminiscent of Vayl that I wished hard for my sverhamin to join us. Lift this boy in his arms. Make him his burden. “Your father sounds frightening,” Trayton said.
“He once made a general cry.”
“No.”
“I shit you not. The guy had to retire after that. I mean, really, who’s going to follow your orders after some damn colonel’s reduced you to tears?”
He shook his head, which is how people typically react to Albert stories. But the tightness around his eyes had relaxed. I checked the hallway. “It’s clear.”
We began our slow march to the suite. Trayton insisted on holding the sword, though he leaned pretty heavily on me. “I don’t sense any vamps nearby,” I whispered as we half walked, half staggered down a flight of stairs. “But if we happen to run into some, we need a plausible excuse for your presence. Unless they’ve all seen your human face?”
“No. Only the one with the gun and the one who smelled of grapes.”
“So let’s come up with a reason for you to be here with me.”
“We could say I got lost while I was hiking and you found me outside.”
“That sounds reasonable.” He gasped as we reached the bottom step. We didn’t have far to go, but then it looked as if he didn’t either. I went on. “Of course, your story’s a huge snore. We could say you’re my escort. And I’ve, you know, worn you out.” When he looked over at me, I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. He grinned.
“As if you could,” he whispered. Gad. Guys are guys the world over. Even when they’re nearly dead!
I acknowledged his machismo with a smile. “Not that I’m suggesting anything,” I went on. “I’m sort of spoken for. But it would make me look such the formidable opponent.”
“So you’re not with these vampires?”
“Just visiting,” I confirmed. I felt his shoulders loosen. And before I knew it, his nose, nuzzling into my hair. I stiffened.
“Doesn’t anyone ever touch you?” Trayton asked.
“Uh, no. That is, until just recently.” I thought about it. Felt a surge of frustration. “And still, not much.”
“Relax. It’s not sexual, okay? Think wolf. I can feel your blood working in me. You’re part of me now; you always will be. And I’m yours. So let me learn you.” Irritation in his tone, like I should be old enough to know this by now. As if I was keeping him from something that was his by right.
Okay, well, maybe it was that easy. I tried to lighten up. Then I saw myself, leading this post-adolescent down the hall while he sniffed my neck, up into my scalp. And I couldn’t help it. Suddenly I was imagining a supermodel standing twenty paces downwind, holding a bottle of Head & Shoulders, saying, “Even werewolves can’t tell the difference!” I started to giggle.
“What?”
“It tickles,” I said. He took another deep breath. “Now it feels like you’re blowing loogies into my roots.”
I stopped, mainly because we’d finally reached the right door. But also because he’d laid his chin on my shoulder. “You know what I think?” he asked.
I glanced at him sideways, not quite willing to meet his gaze. “What?”
“You need a comrade.”
“I have friends.”
He shook his head, his hair waving across his face so I could barely see the shine of his eyes. “I’ve been inside your head, remember?”
“Could we not talk about that?”
He rubbed his cheek against my arm. Already his closeness seemed less threatening. “You keep the circle small and give only the affection you think you can bear. But, in doing this, you harm yourself the most.” He nodded, as if deciding. “I can be what you need.”
“I don’t need anything from you. Except for you to heal up so I can get you back to your pack. The worst thing that could happen is for them to declare war on this Trust right now.” I wrenched open the door, scooted him inside, and closed it. As soon as I had him settled in the bed it was like he decided he could stop faking. All the color drained from his face and he admitted to serious nausea. I brought the wastebasket over to the bed in case he couldn’t make it to the bathroom.
“You must find the one who smelled of grapes,” Trayton said. “He trapped me and forced me to turn. He can draw out the silver.”
No problem. I’ll just run around sniffing butts till I figure out which one of these egotistical maniacs smells like—wait a minute! Grapes! I know this one! From the courtyard! Nobody stood out in the crowd. Except Disa, who made me want to gag. And the grape guy—Niall! “I’ll be back!” I said. But Trayton didn’t hear. He’d already fallen asleep.
Chapter Eight
I found Niall back at the site of the Sonrhain, mopping up. Literally.
With Genti and his crew also involved in cleanup, I couldn’t just walk over to where Niall stood in the ring and demand help with the Were. I wandered toward him, noting that the fence had already been rehung and he was transferring blood from the floor to a big blue bucket with the help of a bedraggled long-handled squeegee.
On their side of the room, Koren and Meryl swept up broken glass while Genti and Rastus piled the unmarred dishes into plastic bins. “Came to help out, did you?” Genti asked sharply.
“I kept the bear from taking off your head, didn’t I?” I replied. I turned to Niall. “Sorry to bother you,” I said. “But since Disa and Vayl are tied up with contract talks, they sent a note out that I’m supposed to get you so we can drive to town for champagne to celebrate the new agreement. I’d go alone, but I don’t know the area.”
My only warning that Genti had moved on me was the blur I saw out of the corner of my eye and the breeze that stirred the curls off my shoulders. I whirled, triggering the syringe of holy water.
“Genti Luan, stop!” I yelled. Knowing his name. That’s what saved me. As soon as he heard it he froze, his fangs centimeters from my neck. I’d already plunged the needle into his chest. He looked down. “Holy water,” I told him, my thumb firm on the plunger. I realized I was panting and made myself breathe deeper.