“I’m not,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. She put the car in gear and backed out in the parking lot. “I know you wanted me there.”
“I was a little disappointed when you didn’t show up,” I said. “But I wasn’t mad. I swear. I understand that you’ve got stuff to do. Besides, then you did show up. So, it’s cool.”
“You don’t approve of my killing vampires.” She stopped at the opening to the main road and looked to see if there were any cars coming.
I sighed. “I didn’t say anything like that, baby. You’re reading stuff into this that isn’t there.”
She pulled the car out. “You think that I spend way too much time killing stuff and not enough time with you and Chance. You think my priorities are messed up.”
I slumped against the headrest. “Where is this coming from?”
“You said that stuff to me,” she said.
“Not exactly,” I said. “What I said was that you needed to be careful to make sure that you didn’t get a taste for the violence, and that Chance and I were inviting you to weekly family dinners. The three of us. Together. Which I thought would be nice. And you said you would think about it. But I never said that I thought your priorities were off. I didn’t.”
“You implied it.”
“No, I didn’t. And I’m not mad.” I touched her arm. “Azazel, are we seriously having an argument about whether or not we’re arguing?”
“No,” she said. She glanced at me. “Maybe.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Jason. I’m really sorry I was late.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Seriously.”
She shot me a sheepish smile. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
She pulled her hand away.
Slowly, I pulled my own hand back. Right. We weren’t really touching each other that much these past two weeks.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s only...”
“I get it,” I said.
And then we were both quiet. I stared out of the window, watching the scenery of northern New Jersey go by—chain restaurants, gas stations, and stop lights. I didn’t know what to say.
We didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive back to the house. She pulled into the driveway and stopped the car, but she didn’t make a move to get out.
I followed her lead and sat there too.
She looked at me. “Should we talk about this?”
“Probably.” I looked away.
She took a deep breath. “So, I guess we kind of took things too far.”
“You mean I did.”
She considered. “Now that you mention it, it is kind of rich for you to be talking about not getting a taste for violence.”
I winced. “Look, you’re okay. I didn’t really do anything to you.”
“Oh, so I’m overreacting.”
“No,” I said. “Of course not. Obviously, it freaked you out.”
“Obviously?” She laughed bitterly. “You killed me.”
“You’re not dead,” I said.
“Only because I was pumped full of your blood while you did it.”
“I didn’t mean to...” I flashed on the moment. Azazel lying under me in bed, naked, my fingers wrapped tight around her neck. Dammit. It was making me hard just thinking about it. I shifted uncomfortably. I was lying to her. I’d meant to do it. I’d gotten carried away, sure, but I’d known exactly what I was doing. And I’d wanted to stop her breath, cut it all off, snuff it out. I’d wanted... “It was an accident.”
“I know,” she said. “And I did let you do it. And I’m not dead. But...”
And we were both quiet again.
I picked at a piece of lint on my jeans.
Azazel tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.
I tried to tell myself it was no big deal. Other couples experimented with erotic asphyxiation, didn’t they? It wasn’t like we’d gotten the idea from a vacuum. Okay, I’d gotten the idea. It had been my idea. But Azazel had been telling me she wanted me to open up in bed. She said she didn’t want me to hold back with her anymore. She wanted to experience whatever I wanted. And, honestly, before the whole accidentally killing her thing, everything had been awesome. For both of us. We’d been having better sex than we ever had, and we were like lovesick teenagers again. (When we were actually lovesick teenagers, we’d been chased across the country and half of Europe by people trying to kill us, and we hadn’t actually had a lot of time to perfect our lovemaking technique.) It had been easy for us to talk then, just two short weeks ago, and I remembered the way it felt to have her in my arms, whispering to me that she’d never felt more alive and that she loved me.
“I promise I wouldn’t do that again,” I said.
“I know.” She bit her lip. She met my gaze with her own. “It’s just that everything feels... different now.”
“Yeah.” I knew what she meant. We were open with each other before. We were connected. And now there was a big barrier. And I wasn’t sure how to get over it.
She shrugged. “Maybe talking about it really isn’t going to make any difference.”
I unbuckled my seat belt. “Yeah, I don’t know what to say.” I opened the car door.
“Um, give Chance a hug for me,” she said.
“You’re not coming in?” I asked.
“I’ve got to go check out the Nephilim we brought in,” she said. “I’m just going to pop over to headquarters for a few hours. Jude and I usually do a little orientation before we release a newbie back into his life.”
Jude. Why was it bothering me that she was spending so much time with my little brother? When she and I were fucking like bunnies, I didn’t care. But now... “Okay.” I got out of the car.
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
She rubbed her face. “Jason, what day did you want me to do dinner with you and Chance?”
“Tuesdays,” I said. “Which was yesterday. Chance is going to be with Mina tonight.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “Well, next Tuesday then. I promise.”
“Okay.” I shut the car door. I watched her pull out of the driveway.
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