Page 12 of The Monster's Obsession
“No, you jerk,” she hisses. “Because he took that from me too.”
“What?” My eyes narrow. “Who?” Is she too out of it from the fever to coherently answer questions?
“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbles, falling to rest her head on her pillow.
I’ve never heard of a fae without a sense of smell. Their genetics are coded to heal any wound, and I assume that would hold true for something like blindness or a lack of a sense of smell.
Once she’s more coherent, I’m going to need to ask some important questions. Mainly if the “he” she mentioned is dead, and if not, how do I find him?
“Now tell me what’s wrong,” I murmur, brushing her sweaty hair back from her face.
“My quickening is coming,” she groans. “But Laz hasn’t come home, at least not that I saw. I brought myself to bed, hoping he might let himself in like he always does, but he hasn’t.”
“You haven’t seen him since the club last night?”
“I’ve been in here for an entire day?” she asks, and her eyes pop open. They’re red and glassy. “I thought time moved slower when you’re in pain?”
“Gods,” I whisper.
“I’ll be okay. The cramps come and go. If you wait long enough, you can survive anything.”
I frown.
This isn’t the Vivie I know.
She’s much too defeated for my liking.
I’ve never seen her anything less than dressed to the nines and ready to take on the day.
“Lie down with me?” she mumbles, grabbing my wrist. “I might not be able to smell you, but something about your presence is helping.”
My instincts scream to give her whatever she wants, yet I still shake my head.
I don’t think it would help anything if Laz found us snuggling together. Leaning down, I mark her cheek with mine. I would do both, but the other is buried in the pillow. Even if she can’t scent my pheromones, she’ll still be able to soak them up directly through her skin.
“I’m going to find Laz. Don’t move.”
My head tilts, and I snort as I step into Laz’s living room.
“Damn, fucker, you might actually be in worse shape than Vivie,” I say with a laugh.
I’ve never seen such a mopey fucking kraken, but Laz is in partially shifted form with a bottle in each of his top two tentacles.
He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, still managing to bring the tequila to his mouth via one of his tentacles. He takes a long swig and rolls his eyes. “Perfect time for you to make a move. You can’t pretend like you haven’t been biding your time?—”
“Fuck you,” I growl, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You gonna sit here feeling sorry for yourself? Or are you going to get your shit together and go claim your woman?”
His head shakes. “She doesn’t want to see me. She made thatperfectlyclear last night.”
This is why I’m cordial with people, but I keep enough distance so they don’t ever mistake us for being actual friends.
This shit is exhausting.
“So you’d rather lie around, moping, while leaving your mate over there to suffer alone?” I scoff. “I never thought you’d be the type.”
“What’s wrong with Vivie?”
“First of all, she feels fucking terrible about what went down at the club. Second of all, she’s going into heat. You gonna leave her over there to suffer alone?” I quirk an eyebrow. “I could probably slip in and handle this quickening if you’re not up for the job.”
