Page 51 of Dravin
“I’m not feeling well enough.” I can see he likes admitting that just about as much as he would chain sawing his own leg off.
I stroke his arm, his skin cold and clammy under my palm. “I think you’ll feel a lot better if you power through it. You’ve probably done that six zillion times before. What’s different about this?”
He turns his face so that it looks like he’s staring me down with both eyes zeroed in. I have no idea how he does it, but it gives me both a cold chill and sexy goosebumps. “You.”
I lean in and brush my nose against his, whispering my eyelashes over the tip of it. “If it’s going to make this easier for you, I can go, but I’d rather be here to take care of you like you’ve taken care of me all this time without me knowing the half of what you’ve done. I’m not easily scared away by bodily fluids or the fact that literally fifty percent of your body is an open wound.”
“More like thirty-five percent,” he grunts.
“I know you don’t want me to see you when you’re not a hundred percent yourself, and I’d feel the same way because being vulnerable is uncomfortable. It’s just something you have to get used to.” I reach for the juice and open it one more time, urging him to take a sip. He does, though he nearly chokes on it before downing another. “Anyway. Do you really think bodily fluids bother me when I just made a spit in your mouth comment?”
“Stop.” He arches into me though, nuzzling his face against my neck. I stroke his hair before I wrap my hand around the back of his head and hold him there. Even sweaty, and sick, he still smells good.
“I know we shouldn’t be doing this, but trusting you feels like the least dangerous thing out of everything I’ve done lately. Actually, it feels really fucking right.”
“Stop.” This time, he’s begging.
“I’m going to spend tonight with you, even if I have to sleep in a chair or on the floor, or hang from the freaking ceiling like a goddamn vampire to make sure you’re okay.”
“Vampires sleep in coffins.”
“Fine. A bat then.”
“I’m okay,” he huffs. “You’re going to go back home and sleep in your own bed.”
“I guess I have two options.” I pull him closer, fisting his hair, whispering right by his ear. “I spend the night with you in a perfectly platonic, friendly way, or I hitchhike home.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Why would you hitchhike?”
“I could call for a cab and ask them to send me their creepiest driver because every so often, I enjoy feeling like I’m starring in a horror movie.”
“Kael,’ his voice is perfectly flat, bit brimming with just enough annoyance that he’s starting to sound like his old self. He’s also shivering less. Even that small amount of juice is helping. “I’ll ask Crow and Tarynn to take you home.”
“Sorry, darling, they’re going to be busy in short order. Remember what Crow said? Guess walking it is. I could always use the exercise.” I lean into him so that I’m practically sitting on his spread legs.
“Fine.” His hands land on my waist, half supporting me and half drawing me in.
I’m starting to learn that his ironclad control isn’t so ironclad. Neither is mine. Is that pathetic? I suppose that’s up tointerpretation, but opinions are generally formed from that shit word again.Normal.
Maybe I am a romantic at heart because I kiss Dravin on the cheek, the nose, and chastely on his lips. He tries to guide me away, but I grasp his hands. “Let’s go. If I don’t get my wontons and baby corn, I’m going to be deeply disappointed.”
“It’s probably stone cold by now.” He frowns. “I’m sorry. It’s late. You must be starving.”
“I ate earlier. This is second supper.” I lock his hand between mine and impulsively bring his knuckles to my mouth and brush my lips over them, lapping at the raised scars. “This is your night to be taken care of. Stop worrying about me.”
“Not possible,” he mutters under his breath. He shoves off the table and lands on his feet, but sways. I catch him, but he balances himself too, throwing one bare foot out behind him.
Standing like that, with his jeans undone at the top, his veins standing out, muscles popping, abs even more defined than I’ve ever seen them, hair falling into his eyes, he looks exactly like a damn rockstar. I quickly compose my face and remind myself tobreathe, before he can see just how much I’m here for it.
“You’re so strange,” he huffs. It’s the last thing I expect to hear.
“How so?” I keep his hand in mine, locking our fingers tightly together so I can support him without it looking like I’m doing that. I also don’t want to wrap an arm around him or touch his back. He can’t even get his jeans all the way on he’s so tender.
“You could have anyone. Someone… beautiful.”
“Are you not beautiful?”
“Christ on a cracker.” His dry blasphemy makes me grin.
