Page 87 of Rapture's Edge (Night Prowler 3)
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
He gave her a swift kiss on the forehead, turned, and made his way to the door. Over his shoulder he said, “Think about this, Butterfly; Godzilla Romeo spanked you in front of a few hundred people and you let him live. If I’d have done that, I’d be lying in a shallow grave somewhere.” He paused just outside the doorway and looked back at her. “Right?”
“You suck.”
He laughed. “What are friends for, if they can’t call you out on your shit?”
“Lucky for me, I don’t have many friends,” she muttered, and his face grew soft.
“You don’t need a lot. Just a few really good ones.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then she said, “You are a good friend, Alexi. This is”—she made a gesture to the room—“above and beyond. Thank you for what you’re doing.”
He smiled, devilishly charming. “I told you when you broke up with me that you’d come crawling back.”
“You did. Yes. And then you flaunted half the women in Paris in my face, which didn’t much make me feel like crawling.”
He had the decency to look chagrined. “Well, this is me trying to make amends here, lady, take it easy on me. And for the record, this wasn’t exactly how I pictured it, but for what it’s worth…I’m glad you’re here. You and all your crazy, black-eyed family. Who, incidentally, all speak Latin. What’s up with that?”
“Oh,” she said, smiling darkly, “that’s the least of it, slick. Do yourself a favor and don’t try and sneak up on any of them. You might wind up missing a limb or two.”
He shook his head slowly, amazed or bemused, she couldn’t tell.
“You’re going to tell me all about it later. Don’t think I’ve forgotten our deal.” His devilish smile made a reappearance. “And don’t think just because I’m playing nice and you’re in love with a seven-foot-tall, tattooed gorilla who wants to kill me that I’m going to give up trying to get you into bed.”
She pressed her lips together to hide her smile. “No, I didn’t think that.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Good. Your room’s across the hall. Take a shower, if you want, clean up. Then come downstairs; Smithers makes a mean holiday crepe.”
“Holiday? What holiday is it?”
/> “It’s Christmas, Butterfly. Don’t they have Christmas on your planet?”
Then with a mischievous wink, he was gone.
The shower turned out to be the best advice she’d had in ages.
She stood under the hot spray, letting the water relax the knotted muscles in her shoulders, letting the steam do its best to try to lull her worries away.
Not that it worked. No amount of hot water could wash away her kind of worries; no amount of scrubbing could get them unstuck.
Where was Silas right now? Where was her brother? What were the few who refused to leave the catacombs doing in her absence?
Was Demetrius, right at this moment, telling the Bellatorum where they were?
She pushed that thought aside, surprising herself at the vehemence with which her mind shouted a resounding No! Stupid. Stupid. Anything was possible, everything was, and to try to deny it was just stupid…but what Alexi had said kept echoing in her head, over and over.
You’re in love. It’s all over you both.
Because she’d grown to understand that life was as strange as it was unpredictable, it didn’t really surprise her when she heard the door to the bathroom open a few minutes later and close and a deep, tense voice growl, “The little yipper said you needed to see me, right away. Said it was important.”
Her disbelieving laugh was drowned out by the running water. She rested her forehead against the smooth tile, relieved and terrified in equal measure, both cursing Alexi and wanting to give him a hug of gratitude.
Just when you thought you had people figured out, pegged as petty or selfish or shallow, they went ahead and did something like this. Something huge like this.
Sweet Isis, maybe there was hope after all.
Thinking that, feeling that possibility, that little bud of hope, made her heart soar.
