Page 46 of Mongrel
He gives a hint of a shrug, his fingers still combing through my hair, gently unknotting as he goes. “That’s a common side effect when the recipient is as exhausted as you were. You were on the verge of passing out before I gave you the blood. You’re just good at hiding it.”
That makes sense, I suppose. Traveling vast distances four nights in a row was beginning to take its toll. The damned beaver didn’t help. “My arm feels as if it never happened.”
“Mmm,” Bowie murmurs, “it would. Bruises and such heal almost immediately.”
“Does that always happen? If you share blood?”
His lips curl to a grin. “It’s not something I do often, my dear. In fact, I can count all the occasions with my fingers and have a few left to spare. But no, it won’t always be like that. Your body took a lot of wear and tear from the road. It wasn’t only your arm that needed repair. If I were to give you blood when you had nothing for it to heal, you’d get the opposite effect. Energized and full of vigor.”
Let’s do that,I think, but I know this isn’t the time. We must pull ourselves together and get back to our mission. See what kind of damage the storm has wrought both to the road and the scent trail.
Bowie squints his eyes shut and frowns. He must be so worried. I touch his face. “We’ll find her.”
He lays his hand over mine. “I know.”
When his eyes open, I kiss him again, putting all the comfort I can into the gesture. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, just worried. I will be until she’s safe in my arms.”
“We should go, then.”
He sighs. “It’s still too light out. Soon.”
That’s got to be so frustrating, though he never complains about the limitation.
I can’t resist another kiss. Not when Bowie is right there and his mouth offers such alluring, succulent lips. I could kiss him for hours, but I force myself away. I sit with a groan, my back protesting.
Bowie watches as I stand and stretch out all the kinks. He has a curious look on his face I can’t quite make out.
He bites his bottom lip with one fang in an expression so adorable I nearly sink back to the ground to kiss him again. “What?”
He flutters his lashes. “Can I see your tail?”
I suppress an urge to squirm. I’ve been bullied about my tail all my life, but I know Bowie won’t tease me. “But…you’ve seen it.”
“Not really. Not in this form.”
That’s true. He’s always been polite about my nudity. Not taken advantage. I trust him. And even though I’m probably not supposed to like my tail, I do. It’s part of me, and it’s hard to imagine my body without it.
“All right.” I pull my tail free from where it’s tucked in my pants. I can never leave it loose like this. Pants aren’t made to fit below my tail, and having the waistband there feels awkward at best. It’s a blend of black, gray, and white, like the rest of me, fluffy and soft.
“It’s lovely.” He sits up and gathers his knees to his chest.
I don’t mind showing Bowie if he’s curious. I spin for him.
“Why don’t you wear it loose when we’re alone?”
I explain the fit problem.
“Hmm, I wonder if we couldn’t have pants tailored to accommodate it either way. Perhaps a covered hole”—he mimes this by circling his hands in the air—“so you could wear the tail inside or outside the flap, depending on company.”
That sounds amazing, but I don’t exactly know any tailors. And the wolves from my pack who can sew won’t be eager to do me any favors.
“I could arrange it,” Bowie offers. “When this is over, and everyone is safe. I’d like to see you comfortable.”
The confidence is back in his voice. I’m relieved to hear it. Seeing him shaken and panicked after learning Cecily had been taken was awful. He sounds more like himself now, a vampire on a mission, believing he’ll succeed.
I consider his offer. Pants fitted for my tail would be convenient, and Bowie has such a generous nature, he makes it seem simple to accept. “Thank you. I would like that.”
