“I’d love to get dressed, Richard, but I’m still covered in that clear goop. I’d rather not get it all over my clothes.”
“I’ve got a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door,” Jason said, “it should fit.”
“Since when do you wear a robe?” I asked.
“It was a present.”
I looked at him.
“Jean-Claude thought I looked cold.” I think he tried to grin at me, but the wolf muzzle just wasn’t made for it.
“Let me guess, black silk?”
“Blue, to match my eyes.” He started toward the bathroom, not exactly limping, but close.
“I’ll get it. Everybody stay put, and be nice, until I get back.”
I went for the bathroom, though search me if I could remember a robe on the back of the bathroom door. But it was there, hanging exactly where Jason had said. It was a lovely blue, sort of soft and bright all at the same time. I’d been more tired than I’d known to miss it last night.
I put the robe on and caught sight of myself in the mirror. The remnants of yesterday’s makeup still outlined my eyes, though it had smeared a little so it looked a little more Goth than my usual. The lipstick was gone. The clear goop had dried one side of my hair into a case of bed head that only a shower would cure. My body was covered in more of the drying goop, so that it was beginning to flake as I moved.
If you have sex with condoms, you forget that what goes in eventually comes out, and I took the time to clean up just a little, because it was too embarrassing not to.
The blue was too pale for my coloring, and too big through the shoulders. It was one of those moments that I wondered why anyone wanted me. I just didn’t see it. Of course, feeling this bad about myself might have had something to do with dreading Richard’s little talk. Maybe.
I took in a lot of air, let it out slowly, and opened the door. It was one of the braver things I’d done in awhile. I’d much rather have dealt with bad guys than with Richard. Bad guys were simple, kill them before they kill you. Richard was a lot of things, but simple was so not one of them.
55
Jason left without a word, but Nathaniel said he’d wait outside with the wererats. No one liked leaving us alone, not even me. Hell, I wasn’t sure Richard liked being left alone with me, but he’d asked for it, and I hadn’t.
Richard stayed on the floor, as if he’d never move again. Since there was no chair, I stripped the stained sheets from the bed and sat on the edge of it. I sat sort of half-cross-legged, with one leg dangling off the bed, but I made sure the robe covered as much of me as it could.
We sat that way in total silence for at least a minute, though it felt like longer. I broke first, because just watching him kneel there, head bowed, made me want to comfort him, and that would go badly. Richard didn’t take comfort from me anymore, or at least he didn’t without making me pay for it later. That was a game I was no longer willing to play.
“What’s up, Richard? You wanted privacy for a talk. We’ve got the privacy, now talk.”
He moved just his eyes up at me, and that one look was enough.
Angry. It didn’t spill out into his power, or fill the room, but I think that was because he was shielding, probably as hard as I was.
“You make it sound easy.”
“I didn’t say it was easy. I just said, you wanted to talk, so talk.”
“Just like that.”
“Hell, Richard, you’re the one who asked for this talk. I didn’t invite you into a private conversation.”
“You asked about the fight with Clair. I don’t want to share that with everyone.”
“You don’t have to share it with me.”
“I think I need to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He swallowed hard enough for me to hear it, then shook his head.
“Let’s start over. I’ll try not to be mad, if you try not to pick at me.”
“I’m not picking at you, Richard. I’m trying to get you to talk to me.”
He looked up at me, full face, not so much angry anymore, but not happy. “If a friend had something hard to tell you, would you say, ’so talk’?”
I took a deep breath and let it out. “No, no I wouldn’t. Okay, how’s this. I’m sorry, you feel like you have to tell me something that is so obviously painful for you. But what I said before is still true, you don’t owe me an explanation about a fight you had with your girlfriend, Richard. You really don’t.”
“I know that, but it’s the quickest way I can think to explain everything.”
I wanted to say, “explain what?” but fought the urge. He was obviously hurting, and I tried not to rub salt into anyone’s wounds.
But the call for privacy, and the big buildup was making me nervous.
As far as I knew, Richard and I didn’t have anything this important to say to each other. The fact that he thought differently made me downright uneasy.
I sat on the corner of the bed, one hand going to the top of the robe, because even with it belted tight it was gaping. Too big through the shoulders, so it just didn’t fit quite right. I kept one hand on the top and the other hand in my lap, so I didn’t accidentally flash him. I’d been buck naked in front of him for minutes, but suddenly I was all worried about him catching a glimpse. I think it was his comment, that he couldn’t have this talk with me naked. Would I find it hard to talk seriously if he was naked in front of me? I wanted to answer no, but truthfully in my own head, the answer was yes. Shit, I did not need this.
He was back to staring at the floor. I couldn’t stand it. I had to prompt him, but I tried to prompt him more kindly than before. I tried to think of him as my friend and not as the ex who always seemed to rain all over my parade.
“What do you want to tell me about the fight with Clair?” I even managed to keep my voice neutral. Points for me.
He took in a lot of air and let it out, then raised a pair of sad brown eyes to me. “Maybe that’s not where to start.”
“Okay,” I said, voice careful, “start somewhere else then.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know how to do this.”
I wanted to yell, “do what?” but I resisted. But my patience had never been limitless, and I knew that if he continued to be obtuse, I’d blow it. Or my temper would. That gave me an idea: Maybe if I started talking, he’d just jump in.
“It’s been a while since I felt your rage,” I said.
“I’m sorry about that. I lost control, I don’t…”
“It’s not a complaint, Richard. What I meant to say was that it felt different than the first time I touched it.”
He looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“It felt, no, it tasted like my anger, like me, almost more than you.”
I had his attention now. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I do either, but follow my thought. Asher once told me that Jean-Claude had become more ruthless because I was his human servant. But with Damian being my vampire servant, I gained some of his emotional control. You can only gain what your partner has to share.”
He was looking at me, and the sadness was fading under him thinking. There was a good mind in there somewhere, he just didn’t always seem to use it. “Alright, I understand that.”
“If Jean-Claude gained some of my practicality, making him more ruthless, then what did you gain? I mean I got some of your beast and your hunger for flesh. I got Jean-Claude’s blood lust and theardeur.
What did you gain from us?”
He seemed to think about that. “I gained some of Jean-Claude’s blood lust. Blood is as attractive as flesh to me, almost. It wasn’t before.” He moved so he was sitting Indian fashion on the floor. “It’s easier to talk mind-to-mind with you lately, and last night, I interfered with you controlling that zombie.” He shivered just a little, like something about that scared him. Guess I couldn’t blame him.
“But the mind-to-mind thing being this easy and the zombie stuff is recent, Richard. What did you gain the first time?”
He frowned at the floor. “I don’t see…”
“What if you gained some of my anger?”