Page 87 of Redeemed
Two can play that game.
It’s been a good three hours since the debacle on the beach, and here we are, back to where we started. Me ’n’ Trajan, alone. I’m really not ready for our experiment in polyamory to end, but if it has, then we need to lay the groundwork for the future. With that in mind, I crawl off my bed and onto Trajan’s. He shifts, still staring at nothing, and I curl up next to him. Pack calls to pack.
I’m naked because I threw the clothes I’d been given at Betancourt’s house into the first dumpster we passed, and I’m too foul to put anything clean on. Trajan’s still in solid black, that one stubborn lock of hair falling into his face. “So, Tony, I guess we still have each other.”
There’s a long pause, and then he shifts again, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Sure, puppy. We still have each other and that’s pretty damned good.”
His voice is rough enough that I’m pretty sure he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. I don’t poke it—I am getting wise in my old age—just curl in tighter. He’s cool and he smells smokey. I relax, settling into the connection that’s so much more than just emotion. Will I be able to shift without Connor? Right now, I’m too tired to care.
I’m almost asleep when someone knocks on the door. We both stare at it as if we think Kowalski and his gang are going to bust through any second. “The elves wouldn’t knock, right?”Asking for a friend…
I’m the more mobile of the two of us, so I get up. I’ll look through the peep hole and either it’ll be a friend who won’t care if I’m nude or a not-friend and I won’t let them in.
I look through the peep hole, and relief hits me so hard my knees give way.
“Puppy? David? Who is it?”
Trajan reels himself in from never-neverland and gets to me in about three steps. I can’t speak or I’ll start to sob. He’s trying to help me up and I’m scrabbling at the doorknob and neither of us are having any success.
We’re stopped by another knock. I flop back on my ass and manage to grind out, “Open it.”
Connor MacPherson steps into the room.
Trajan’s frozen in place, hands open to the air. I manage to scoot over to where Connor is standing, then crawl up his body like he’s a tree.
It’s him. Warm whiskey and leather. He wraps an arm around my waist and reaches in Trajan’s direction.
Guido’s staring like one of us is a ghost.
“Mo shíorghrá,” Connor murmurs, and still Trajan doesn’t move. Then he does, slamming the door shut hard. He takes Connor’s hand. I reach for him and he takes a step closer.
“I thought you were gone again.” Trajan’s broken, his words laced with sadness.
Since Trajan’s not coming any closer, Connor and I go to him.
“I told you I’m hard to kill.” Connor doesn’t smile, but there’s warmth in his tone. “Although if you want me to leave, I’ll understand. I do not deserve—”
“Shut that shit right down.” I’ve got a finger pointed at Connor’s face. “We are pack. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“I get that, David.” Connor wraps his hand around my finger, gently moving it out of range of his eyeballs. “But Trajan has a right to expect better treatment from a lover than I’ve shown him so far.”
“So far.” I glare at them both. “Seems to me you’ve got time to make things better, then.”
Connor gives us a guarded smile. “Trajan?”
The vampire heaves a sigh. “I have questions, but right now I think we’re all too tired to answer them. Let’s go to bed.”
It’s not the ringing endorsement I’d hoped for, but it’s good enough for now. “Last one to the shower gets cold water.”
Neither of them follow me, but I don’t care. They need time together, even if they just sit there with their tongues tied. Sure enough, when I come out of the bathroom, they’re in one of the beds, Trajan spooned behind Connor. I’m the little spoon in that arrangement, so I tuck myself in beside Connor and shut my eyes.
Turns out, Jacques Betancourt’s demise has surprisingly few repercussions. Tatiana made peace with her family, so we no longer worry that raging elves will bother us in our sleep. Delia Packard claimed a large chunk of Betancourt’s real estate and other properties as restitution for the murder of her scion. The rest was divided up between the other area sires.
Except for the house in the Bird streets in Beverly Hills.
Madame Packard gave that to Trajan.
We’re here, at least temporarily, and while we all hope that particular adventure is over, Trajan wants us to watch for a vampire he saw at the bonfire, one with ties to Delia Packard.
