Page 45 of Tested
Chapter Fourteen
David
The doorbell rings, and I’m the only one who moves. Connor’s gone and Trajan’s unconscious.
But he’s not dead-dead, so I’m okay.
The bell rings again, so I grab the nearest piece of fabric and head downstairs. I shake it out and realize I grabbed a towel – still damp and slightly musty – from someone’s shower.Whatever. I wrap it around my hips and tuck the corner so it’ll stay up.
There’s a guy on the doorstep. At least, I think it’s a guy. Pretty much all I can see is a ginormous bouquet of white flowers. I squint at them. Lilies?
“These are for Trajan Gall,” the guy says, and I hold out my arms.
“He’s not awake, but I’ll take them.”
“Who’re you?”
“The Easter Bunny. Give me the effing flowers and let me get back to bed.”
The guy huffs, and for a second I think he’s going to argue, but then he shoves the blossoms at me. I catch the vase before the whole thing hits the stone steps –go me– but when he hands me an iPad and asks for my signature, I laugh. “I can sign, hold the flowers, or keep the towel up, but not all three.”
Muttering about lazy ass perverts, the delivery guy turns on his heel and stalks down the front walkway. Still laughing, I kick the door shut and haul the load of lilies to the dining room table. We don’t spend much time there, but the flowers are a little creepy so I don’t really want to look at them.
“Now who sent these to my vampire?” I murmur, pawing through the greenery for the card.
It’s clipped to one of those clear plastic fork-like holders. And yeah, Trajan’s name is on the envelope, but I’m too curious to wait till he rises. I unstick the flap and tease the little card out of the envelope.
Hope you’re feeling better. Remember what I said…
The only signature is a letterJsigned with a flourish.
J? Jacques?Despite the sunshine, my gut turns cold. Trajan saw Jacques last evening, Trajan got shot last night, and now someone whose name starts with a J sent lilies. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure white lilies are funeral flowers.
Jacques had had Trajan shot, and damn near killed him.
I don’tknow-know this, but from the lump of ice in my belly to the heavy certainty in my bones, it’s the truth.
I’m still processing thewhyof it all when Connor walks in.
“What’s that all about?” He points at the flowers.
“My best guess is that Jacques heard about Trajan’s little accident last night.”
He squints at the flowers as if they’re going to be able to explain the situation. “Vampires, man.”
I force a laugh. “Right?”
“Not many are as independent as Trajan, though I’ve never been able to figure out why.” He shrugs, his mind elsewhere. I tuck that idea away, because what I don’t know about vampires and their relative independence could fill a library.
“What did you think about last night?”
Connor’s question jerks me back to the present. “Which part? Because a whole lot of it could be filed underOh, shit.”
He circles the table, catching my shoulder in a warm grip. “Totally agree with you there. I guess I was thinking about the club. I mean, we’ve talked a little about what we’re comfortable with, but that particular situation never came up.”
“And I hope it never does again.” I lean against him, glad for his strength. He and Trajan had stuck close to me after the scene at the club, and it occurred to me that Connor might be worried the situation had crossed a boundary for me. “I mean, I might not mind seeing Trajan jerk some guy off in principle, I just don’t want him to have to suffer a near-death experience first.”
Connor eases away and fiddles with his phone – because that’s what he does when he’s feeling awkward – but after a couple beats he meets my gaze. “You didn’t mind? At the club?”
