Page 104 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane

Sighing, I apparate myself directly into our closet,. My stomach gurgles and I rub it, hanging up my duster. Pulling my hair back with the hair tie from my pocket, I ponder a shower. I’m filthy, covered in stickiness and underbrush.

Deciding I’m too tired for that, I grab a wet towel from the hamper and scrub the crud off my face and body. My clothes go flying into the hamper—write-offs unless Hex can work his ownbrand of magick—then I pull on one of his shirts, so exhausted I can’t even contemplate buttoning it.

Once I’m clean, I pad out to where he’s sitting, lowering myself to the floor at his feet with a grunt. My muscles are sore from the hunt, so I drop my head into his lap. Speaking into his mind, I sigh again.~I heard you. ~

His fingers rub over my jaw and I feel his heart touch mine. He begins without preamble, his tone soft.~I love you. I’m sorry. I was wrong. ~

He was—again—and I know it. I’m too tired to get angry right now. I want this horseshit to be over.

~ I freaked out, too. You’re back; I’m back. ~

I mumble, burying my face in his tummy, sinking back into our connection.

~I didn’t leave. I went into the other room to beat the hell out of the bag. We, uh, need a fresh bag. ~

I chuckle, groaning as it makes my chest muscles pull.~Don’t worry. My clothes are shot. Good thing I left the coat in a safe spot. ~

Leaning down, he sniffs me and I feel the frown even though I don’t look up. “You killed?”

One shoulder lifts and falls. “I was hungry and in a foul mood.”

He doesn’t question my glib response, though I know he asked because I didn’t used to kill unless they left me no choice. The more connected my Beast is inside, the less concerned I am about human ethics—food is food. The line between eating a cow and, well, eating a cow has become completely blurred. I’m learning how to hunt, and since the changes in my biochemistry are ongoing, I’ve had to learn to save the rip and tear for emotional outlet rather than daily feeding. What I did tonight is far more significant than either of those descriptions does justice to.

Rural massacre fits. He’s going to wish he’d been there.

Tilting his head, he strokes my jaw. “What’s wrong? You feel uncomfortable.”

“I ate too fast and made a mess. I’m sore and I have a bit of indigestion. I shouldn’t have played with my food.”

He arches a brow and grins. “Lucky it wasn’t Thai, or you’d be a real mess. Come here, baby.” Holding his hands out, he reaches for me.

“Mexican,” I grumble, making a face. “It might have been worse.” Scrambling onto his lap, I curl around him. His hands rub over my tummy and he rests his head on my shoulder. I comb my fingers through his hair, purring softly as we nuzzle.

Suddenly, the doors slam shut, the air thickening as the cracks seal even more than before.~No one. No one gets in. Not here. Not even primaries tonight. ~

His hand smooths over my stomach and his arm tightens around me, stroking my spine.

Smiling, I lean my head on his, agreeing. I close my eyes, looking inside myself to seal the doors and gateways as much as possible without severing the cords forever. They may bang on the doors, but I think with the energy I got from feeding tonight, I can keep them shut for at least a couple of hours without a slip.

I feel him calming by degrees, his lips brushing my forehead as he sinks into our connection. Letting the peace wash over me, I hold him and let the connection hum through us. The turmoil inside me wanes and my soul settles down. His thumb traces my eyebrows, down my nose and across my cheekbones, humming a soft tune in my ear.

~I love you so very much. I was so scared. ~

I blink, the scent of tears making me realize that he’s crying. Taurus never cries. I mean, everyone does, but I’ve not seen him this unglued yet.~Scared? Why? ~

Brushing my knuckle under his eyes to catch them, I caress his cheekbones.

~When you left. I read the note and didn’t think you were coming back. I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t know what to do. ~

Clucking my tongue, I shake my head.~No, no, no. I would never leave a note to end a relationship and I would never leave for good over something that trivial. I don’t know if I even can leave you now. It felt like I was being punched in the gut just to leave the house. It’s gotta be something big before this reed breaks, baby. ~

He doesn’t know the level of inappropriate and painful things that people do to me, and I don’t leave them. I always think I can fix the problem. It’s a curse, I know, and part of why I haven’t disentangled myself from Sari and Wilde yet. But why was I able to cut it off with Rhea and Alistair then?

I don’t have time to ponder that oddity—though it bears much more consideration at another time—because he lets out a tremendous sigh of relief.

“Okay. Good. Because I wanted to do bad things to innocent people when you weren’t here. It wasn’t good. In fact, I’d like to lodge a formal request that you never leave me—ever.”

“Good thing I was out doing bad things to innocent people for you, huh?” I stroke his face, smiling. “I think you’ve infected me.”

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