Page 72 of Soulmates
Chapter Twenty-Four
David…
SOME DAYS, THINGS kinda suck. Others, you’re fucked from stem to stern.
That’s me today, only I’m feeling it stem and stern.
I’ve got a gaping hole where my pack used to be. Let that sink in for a minute. A HOLE. A missing chunk. The foundation—hell, the walls and ceiling and insulation that protected my sense of self. And the only replacement I’ve got is a well-meaning vampire and his mysterious sidekick. Or ex. Whatever.
We’re hiding out in some soulless hotel near Dulles Airport. Maybe it’s National Airport. No one has really told me and I can’t be bothered to ask. I’m not even sure of what we’re waiting for. If I had my druthers, I’d shift and take off running.
But I can’t shift without the pack there to hold me steady, and if I take off running, I won’t know where to go.
I’m curled in bed with Connor wrapped around me like a big phouka blanket. I’ve taken to calling him pookie, but he swears he’s just human. He still smells like whisky and horses, so he’s lying, but whatever.
“Hey pookie, is it time to get up yet?” I swivel my ass, rubbing against his thigh.
“Quit it.” He slides away.
I let him go, because really, we don’t know each other. Trajan and I had the beginnings of…something, before my world exploded. Now I’m not sure what’s real emotion and what’s just naked relief at having someone, anyone, willing to stand by me.
“We probably should get dressed,” Connor says, shifting farther toward the edge of the bed. It’s king-size, the only luxury element in the whole place. There are two king-size beds in the room, and if I felt better, I’d want to practice trampolining from one to the other. But I feel like ass, so no tramping for me.
I’ve always been a tramp, but this is new territory.
“Jesus.”
“What?”
Connor’s question surprises me because I don’t realize I’ve spoken out loud. “I’m not even making sense in my own head.”
His hand, warm and strong, clasps my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get pretty for when Trajan gets back.”
He doesn’t let go, and I don’t try to get away. “Tell me again what happens next?” Because my thoughts are friable, unmoored. The only thing I cling to is my name, David Jeremiah Collins, and the two men who sandwich me in bed every day.
“Come on,” he whispers, sliding his arm around me and lifting me off the bed. We drag the blanket off on our way to standing. He props me up, keeping a hand on me while he tosses the bedding out of our way.
“He’s bringing your father.” He doesn’t stop touching, brushing the hair away from my face, his fingertips warm, caressing. “We could both stand a shower.”
I wonder idly if he means to shower with me. I mean, I don’t really care one way or the other. Couple of months ago, I’d have been all over him. He’s tall and butch, with the kind of straight-ahead stare that wraps around me almost as palpable as his arms. He sees me in a way I can no longer see myself.
At his prompting, I stumble to the bathroom. His knee is still bunged up, so I try to cooperate. I brush at the waistband of my shorts, and the fabric slides off. They might have fit a week ago, but I can’t keep food down, as if without the pack to hold it, my body is determined to fade away. I’ve been in bed for two days, too unmotivated to speak, let alone argue, getting worse as time goes on.
The two of them have taken turns changing my clothes and cleaning me up. Now they tell me we’re going back to LA.
Whatever. DC? LA? I don’t give a shit.
Connor turns the water on, spraying me with cool mist. I stay where he puts me, close enough that I can reach out and touch if I need to. I don’t. Not right now. But that could change.
“Hold on.” He sticks a hand under the stream. “Yeah, it’s warm enough. Get in.”
He takes hold of my elbow and guides me into the shower, stopping to remind me to step up over the edge of the tub. I manage one foot, then clank my shin against porcelain on my way to getting the other foot in. Maybe it hurts. I can’t tell.
I stand there breathing. The water is hot. The heat’ll slough off the extra stuff. Except, there’s barely any of me left, nothing extra. Lifting my hands, I clear some of the water out of my face. Time to pull it together. “Need some shampoo.” I hold out my hand, and wordlessly, he squirts some gel in my palm.
“Smells cheap.”
“I’ll be sure and lodge a complaint.”
