Page 198 of White Wolf

“But…but how?” He sounded completely rattled. “Grigory was dead by then! He was…”

“Shh, shh,” Sasha said, patting the air, aiming for soothing. “I know it’s a shock–”

“He was dead! He was!”

Two women approaching the bar paused, eyeing Alexei warily.

Sasha leaned toward him. “You have to calm down, okay? Please? I’ll explain everything if you–”

“He didn’t come find me,” Alexei breathed. And then, voice cracking, “Why didn’t he come find me?” He started to cry in sudden, jerking spasms, tears flooding his eyes, chest hitching.

“Oh boy,” Sasha said with a sigh. He pulled out his phone and fired a quick text to Nikita:take your break now, pls.I fucked up.

~*~

It was the slowest and warmest and safest she’d felt upon waking in weeks. A cynical part of her mind – which sounded an awful lot like her mother – said,Ha, you just needed to get laid.But really, she knew it wasn’t about the sex – which had been fantastic – so much as it was about Lanny. About sex brimming with love. The life-affirming, comforting, at-last perfection of it.

She opened her eyes to the nighttime darkness of her bedroom, the light from Imperial Palace reflected in her dressing table mirror.

Lanny lay against her back, the two of them pressed together shoulder-to-hip. His strong, muscled arm was heavy around her waist, his breath warm and even against the back of her neck. The pillowcase, her whole bed, smelled like him: aftershave, sweat, bourbon. She imagined a tang of sickness, some outer sign that he was dying…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wanting to hold on to the peace just a moment longer. It was only a matter of time before their phones rang and they had to pull their clothes back on and pretend to be invulnerable again. Just a little longer…just a little bit.

“Mmm,” Lanny hummed into the fine hair at hair at her nape. “You’re thinkin’ awful loud.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wasn’t sleeping.” He petted her stomach under the covers. “You okay?”

In a million ways, no. But right now, in this patch of quiet, she was perfect. “Yeah.” She hated the catch in her voice.

And of course he heard it. His hand shifted to her hip and tightened, a gentle urging.

Trina rolled over, shifting in minute increments without dislodging his arm, until she faced him, her hands braced on the solid warmth of his chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm against her palms. The reflected light afforded her a faint glimpse of his face, the lines of jaw and cheek and nose, the glimmer of his eyes.

“You need to do chemo, Lanny,” she said, and the words felt like opening up her chest cavity and inviting him to take hold of her heart. She hated begging, always had, but she’d do it for Lanny. “Have surgery. Radiation. Go to one of those fancy Cancer Treatment Centers of America. You have to do something. You have tofightit.”

“You gonna be there for that?” he asked. “When I’m passed out in a hospital bed, puking my guts up. When I’m a hundred pounds, and I can’t stop shitting my pants–”

“Stop.”

His voice stayed even and low, pillow-talk volume, but the words themselves were relentless. “When my hair falls out, and my skin’s hanging off my body. When my dick can’t get hard, and I can’t hold you, can’t stay awake, can’t even fucking breathe. Is that what you want to watch? ‘Cause that ain’t fighting, sweetheart. That’s dying. It’s not graceful and it’s not brave. It’s ugly, smelly, fucked-up business. You wanna watch that?”

She bit her lip, hard. “I want as much time with you as I can get.”

“That kinda time ain’t worth having.” He shook his head a fraction, pillow rustling under his face. “I’m a fighter, yeah, which means I know when it’s time to tap out.”

She wanted to scream. To slap him. Wanted to shake him and ask him why the hell, if he was so afraid of weakness and frailty and sickness, he wouldn’t at least entertain the idea of asking Nikita for a favor – forthefavor. Or, hell, Alexei. Even Chad Edwards, if they managed to find him.

But he was a stubborn asshole, so she bit her lip again and didn’t say those things.

Instead she shut her eyes and leaned her face into the dark, warm hollow of his throat, breathed in the scent of his skin. “So let’s pretend,” she said. “Just for a minute. Let’s pretend you aren’t sick. What would we do then?”

Lanny sighed, and for a moment she didn’t think he’d answer. But then he said, “We gotta tell my ma for starters.”

Trina smiled, and he must have felt it because he continued, voice getting warmer. “And get ready, ‘cause she’s gonna scream. Like, real loud, and real deep. It’s like a roar, really. You might wanna put your hands over your ears.” In an alarming imitation of his mother: “Roland, finally! You finally did something responsible.” He chuckled. “And then she’s gonna hug you so hard you can’t breathe. Pop will be happy, too, but he won’t crack anybody’s ribs about it.

“She’s gonna want to host the engagement shower, too.”

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