Page 28 of Consumed
“Does it have a TV?” Isaac asked.
“Yeah.”
Isaac gave Con a pleading look, as if it were somehow Con’s decision to make. Con sighed. “Upgrade sounds good.”
That meant getting Isaac settled into the new room—which really was nicer and turned out to also have a mini fridge—and then Con packing up everything in their old room and schlepping it down the hall. By the time he finished, he could barely function due to his aches and exhaustion, and Isaac was fast asleep in bed.
Theonlybed, Con realized.
Shit. The clerk hadn’t mentioned that part, and Con hadn’t registered it until now.
There was a couch in the sitting area. It wasn’t long enough for Con’s tall frame, and it wouldn’t feel good on his sore body, but at this point he could probably sleep on hot coals. He kicked off his shoes and socks, peeled off his jacket and shirt, brushed his teeth, and collapsed onto the couch. At which point he realized he lacked a pillow and was a little chilly.
Grumbling under his breath, he looked in the closet and was relieved to discover a spare blanket. No pillows, but there were plenty on the bed. He grabbed one before returning to the couch.
“What are you doing?” Isaac’s voice was thick with sleep.
“Going to bed.” Then worry struck, and Con sat up. “Is something wrong? Are the symptoms getting worse?”
“I’m fine. But for fuck’s sake, dude, sleep in the bed. It’s big enough. I won’t bite.” That was followed by something suspiciously close to a giggle.
“Getting bit isn’t a joke.”
“Fine. I’m absolutely serious. I’ll keep my teeth and every other part to myself. You’re a hero tonight, Con. You at least deserve a decent place to sleep.”
Con was going to refuse. But he couldn’t find a way to get comfortable on the couch, and at this point he was ready to sell his soul for some decent rest. Still, he had to protest. “I stink of ghoul.”
“Me too. Ghoul and antibiotics. Come to bed, Con.”
And Con did. He climbed beneath the covers, set an alarm so he’d wake up in a couple of hours to check on Isaac, and before he could begin to worry about the proximity of a naked man, he was fast asleep.
CHAPTER10
Isaac wassleepy the next day but otherwise okay. He remained in bed to eat the breakfast Con brought up from downstairs, took a quick shower, and moved onto the balcony while the housecleaner changed the bedding. She didn’t say much, but her eyes were big. Perhaps the hotel staff had heard about the previous night’s exploits.
Isaac went back to bed, and Con showered before settling down with his laptop to officially report yesterday’s events. This room had a little desk, which was nice, and he angled it so that he could keep an eye on Isaac, just in case. But that turned out to be distracting. Asleep, Isaac looked like a fallen angel. Of course Con was acutely aware that his partner was, in fact, entirely human—but that didn’t improve matters any. It didn’t reduce Con’s desire to touch him.
At lunchtime, Con brought back hamburgers, which they ate at the little table on the balcony. It was pleasant to look out at the view, and although their conversation was minimal, that was fine too. It was just nice to share another meal.
Afterward it was time to change the dressing on Isaac’s wound. He’d been shirtless all day, apparently comfortable in a pair of lounging pants, and Con had been trying hard not to notice all that lovely bare skin.
But now he had to touch it. While Isaac sat in bed, Con removed the dressing and inspected the bite. “It doesn’t look reddened or infected. How does it feel?”
“It hurts. But probably not as bad as yours did. This is just a scrape.”
“You’ll scar.”
That didn’t seem to bother Isaac. “We can start a special Bite Club at HQ. You’re the president. I know at least three other guys who’ll qualify.”
Con snorted. “And exactly what would this club do?” He dabbed gently with a damp washcloth as he spoke, hoping the inane conversation would keep Isaac from focusing on the discomfort.
“Dunno. Lord it over all the other agents who aren’t nearly as cool as us. Pretty soon everyone will be wanting one. It’ll be like… getting a tattoo if you’re a sailor. Only studlier, because tattoo artists aren’t generally trying to kill you.”
“I never knew I was such a trendsetter,” Con said as he smeared on some antibiotic ointment before applying a fresh bandage. Since Isaac had refused stronger painkillers on account of his addictive history with alcohol, Con handed him a couple of Advil and a glass of water.
Isaac downed the pills obediently and watched as Con cleaned up. “You’re good at this—doctoring, I mean.”
“I had a lot of practice in wound care while I was recovering.”
