Page 24 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane

“When I got in here, I stank like a swamp marsh. I ruined a perfectly suitable outfit and the duster is a write off. Now I’ve got to get another one. You—my lovely, gorgeous, stunningly beautiful woman—smell like a heaven that I’ll never see.”

Her eyes dance and curls bounce as she shakes her head. “Oh, yes, because I’m headed straight for the pearly gates myself.” She holds her wrist out. “I made new body wash today because the night jasmine bloomed for the first time this season. It’s my favorite.”

I bury my nose in her collarbone and inhale, knowing that I’ll never smell jasmine again in my long life and not thinkof this moment. Hell, that sounded poetic. Maybe I am feeling better just being around her. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit. “Ain’t nature grand? Do you think they’ll set us up in the same hellish cell for eternity? I don’t hate the thought of that.” I grin playfully, sniffing along her shoulder.

“My punishment for all eternity might be to get stuck in a room with you being an ass for the rest of time? That sucks.” She turns and whispers under her breath. “If we keep saying that, they might think it would be a bad thing.”

I nod, pretending to understand. “Right. That’s the worst thing I could think of, really. Might make me want to do good deeds so I never get sent there. I’d rather take a job wiping Hitler’s ass.” I look around then murmur into her mind.~Think this’ll work? ~

~ Worth a try, ain’t it? ~

Her struggle to keep from giggling tickles me and I snort once, coughing back a laugh. “Vapid wench!”

“Knuckle dragging beast!”

I tickle up her sides, eyebrows wagging and grinning like a loon. “Harpy.”

“Bastard!”

“Shrew.”

She purrs a bit as I rub my thumb over her feather. “Test-tube Baby.”

I laugh out loud at that, unable to bite it back. Dropping my lips to hers again, I kiss her softly. “Mmm. Sisssssssy.”

Growling, she gives me a good thump and I laugh again when she calls me an ass. I’m thoroughly enjoying myself. Every day I thank hell that Talia made me take that call for a meet on a lonely street with a woman I thought I’d despise. I move too quickly and bang my bad hand trying to pinch her and hiss. Grinning ruefully, I lean over and whisper softly into her ear, warm breath teasing her earlobe. “Yeah, baby, but I’m your ass.”

“Yes, you are. Now give me that hand so you’re not wincing all night long.” She reaches over and tugs my wrist towards her, looking determined.

“Ow! Bugger, woman. Easy.”

“I am being easy, you big baby.” She starts unwrapping the bandage, giving me a peeved look.

I mutter under my breath about know-it-all women and cranky kitties—mostly to rile her up. She’s studying my hand carefully, and I wonder if I hurt myself worse than I realized. I peer around her cascade of hair. “Can you fix it?”

“I can heal organs; I think I can fix this. But I have to get up first.”

I frown, hugging her close. “Too bad; it’ll have to stay ouchie.”

“It’ll only take a second, I promise.”

She gives me a look and I huff, letting her go reluctantly. “Be quick about it.”

Watching her as she trots to one of the cabinets in the wall, she pulls out a small container. Her back is to me as she fiddles with the contents, stirring up a flowery, herbal smelling concoction. When did she bring that stuff here? I suppose she’s been slowly filling some edges of our space with her own stuff, even as I have mine.

“This will work faster and feel really soothing, plus it cuts the bruising.” She crosses the room and hops in bed, pulling my hand back onto her tummy.

“It won’t hurt?” I ask, looking dubiously at the gross looking goop in the ceramic bowl.

“Nope. I promise.” She dips her fingers in and slathers it over my skin, rubbing it in and murmuring under her breath. She blows air across the poultice before holding her hand up to me. “Nip me quick?”

I blink in surprise, but bring my fangs forward to bite. I quickly retract them to let her blood flow. Suckling lightly, I pull back and close the wound with my tongue. “Enough?”

“Greedy boy. I need it to drip a little before you close it.”

“Oh! Sorry.” I bite again in the same spot, and with considerable control, I withdraw.

“Watch closely because this is kind of neat-o.” She wiggles the dripping finger at me, then over the slathered hand. Squeezing her fingertip, she lets one fat drop of blood plop down. The minute it hits the cream, the air shimmers, and liquid seeps into the skin. With a pop, the hand that was bruised and wounded one moment is perfectly healed and unmarred. The smell of flowers pervades the air, and she licks her finger, closing the wound as she grins. “See?”

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