“Well, it shouldn’t,” I retorted, folding my arms across my chest.
He smiled, kissing my face again. “Now you’re worried about me. And yes, in case you were wondering, that makes me want to fuck, too...”
“I suppose you’re going to blow last night off as another seer thing?” I frowned up at him. “Me wanting to give my boyfriend a black eye is just another seer thing, I guess?”
He frowned at me. That time, the frown looked real.
“Boyfriend?” he grunted. “Did you just call me your fucking boyfriend?”
Biting my lip, I started to ask, then didn’t, feeling my face warm.
Exhaling in another sigh, he blew more warmth at me, caressing my face.
“It is a seer thing, Miri. And I promise you... if you step over the line with me, I’ll be the first to tell you. I promise.”
He wrapped his arms around me, startling me when he exuded a hotter pulse of light, one that seemed to fill my whole chest. It brought that vulnerability back in a sharp wave, catching in my throat, nearly bringing tears to my eyes when he tightened his grip. Affection plumed off him, enough to startle me again, then bring tears to my eyes for real. Not seeming to notice my reaction, he kissed me tenderly, pressing his face against my neck and sighing.
“I’m not saying I want you to hurt me,” he murmured. “I’m not saying I get turned on when you want to punch me, all right? I’m saying I understand. I know why you were angry, and I understand. I love you too, ilya...”
I froze, staring up at the ceiling. “What?”
Raising his head, he stiffened, confusion roiling off him. Then he looked down at me and clicked at me, exhaling in disbelief, or maybe frustration.
“Gaos. You’re acting like I’ve never fucking said that to you before, Miriam.”
“Maybe because you haven’t.” I heard the fear in my voice that time. “Jesus, Black. What’s gotten into you? Are you on drugs?”
He blinked, still staring at my face. “I tell you I love you and you ask me if I’m on drugs?” He didn’t sound angry. Mostly, he sounded bewildered. He stared down at me, that puzzlement sharpening, clear and guileless in his gold eyes.
Then, after a few seconds more, he shook his head.
He rubbed his face with one hand, shifting to his side more as he did it, putting some space between us. I couldn’t help looking at his chest and arms as he did, swallowing when my eyes shifted down the rest of his torso. When I returned my gaze to his face, I saw him thinking. His expression smoothed even as he clicked in some annoyance under his breath.
“I forget sometimes you don’t speak Prexci,” he muttered. His gold eyes met mine, right before he frowned. “But that’s some kind of serious mental fucking gymnastics, doc,” he added, sharper, his eyes holding that more intense light. “To pretend you couldn’t feel that on me... or that you didn’t know what I’ve been saying to you for weeks now. Gaos, I’m pretty sure I said it to you before I left for Paris...”
Narrowing his gaze as he faced the wall, he let his eyes fall briefly out of focus, enough that I knew he was using his sight.
“I did,” he said, his voice harder, more definitive. His eyes clicked abruptly back into focus right before he looked at me. “When you had your mouth on my cock that night... another night you completely shocked the shit out of me, Miri. I told you I loved you then. More than once. I’m pretty sure you felt it that time, too...”
When I winced, staring up at him, he exhaled in a kind of sigh.
Lowering his mouth to my ear, he began speaking softly, cajolingly, exuding heat with every breath. That time, I’d definitely heard the words before, even though I’d told myself I didn’t understand them. Pain shot through my chest as soon as he began to speak.
“Liliere...” he murmured softly, kissing my neck. “Liliere ilya... untielleres...” His voice remained low, soft as he nuzzled my face. “I’m saying I love you, Miriam. I’m telling you that I love you, goddamn it... that I belong to you.”
That pain flared hotter in the middle of my chest, making it hard to breathe again. When I opened my eyes, I was gripping his arms, but I wasn’t looking at his face. I closed my eyes instead, conscious suddenly of how I must look, how open I felt, how insanely vulnerable, even compared to before, when I’d woken up with his arms around me.
“Breathe, doc,” he murmured, kissing my face. “Breathe, okay? This isn’t news to you.”
I shook my head. “Yes, it is.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s not. You can deal with this. You love me, too.”
I shook my head again, but didn’t answer that time. I couldn’t make myself say it. I couldn’t make myself say either thing, when I didn’t know which one was true.
“Doc,” he growled. “Gaos. Are you really going to keep doing this with me? Even after last night? We made love last night. Are you going to pretend that didn’t happen, either?”
Something about his words finally seemed to reach me. I felt that pain in my chest worsen, right before I exhaled in a kind of defeat, leaning my forehead against his chest. Taking another deep breath, I closed my eyes, fighting to let it go, to stop fighting everything... to relax. As soon as I did, that relief flooded over me again. That time, when it grew more intense, bringing up another dense pulse of that vulnerability, I really did cry.
I couldn’t make myself care I was doing it in front of him.
I felt it when he noticed. His presence around me abruptly changed, softening even as he wrapped his arms back around me, stroking the length of my back with his hand. He slid his hand around my face then, tilting up my chin. Once he’d looked into my face, that relief and vulnerability on him grew so intense I could barely see him when I finally looked up.
For a long-feeling few seconds, he only looked at me.
Then he bent his head and was kissing me, pressing more of that heat and presence into me. He rolled me to my back seconds later, leaning his full weight on me, all two hundred and whatever-plus pounds of him. After a few more minutes of that, I really couldn’t fight him. I couldn’t even remember why I’d been fighting him before.
When he paused us for a few seconds, his eyes were glassed.
“Tell me,” he murmured. “Tell me you fucking love me, doc...”
“Why did you say we were married?” I blurted. The words came out without my willing them. Breathless-sounding, even to me, my voice filled with that vulnerability and pain all over again. “Why, Black? Why did you tell Cal that?”
There was a silence.
Even before he broke it, I knew what he was going to say.
“Because we are,” he said, meeting my gaze.
For a long-feeling few seconds, I could only look at him.
Then I shook my head, adamant, fighting another flush of that fear. “No. I was never that out of it. No matter what we did in that penthouse, I was never so out of it that I wouldn’t remember that, Black––”
“Doc,” he said, his voice warning. “I didn’t drug you and put a ring on your finger. I’ll do all of that if you want, whenever you want... the ring, the big white dress, the party... even the fucking church if you want that, too. But that’s a ritual, doc. I’m talking about reality. In reality, as far as the seer world is concerned, we’re already married.”
“In ‘reality’?” I retorted, biting my lip. “So whatever goes on in your mind is reality, is that it, Black? Your culture dictates it, so it’s so? The hell with what I say or think?”
He shook his head, caressing my face with his hand. His voice grew surprisingly gentle, and for once, maybe even for the first time, I found myself feeling him as older than me.
“No, ilya... not just in my mind... and not just in my culture. Not even just to you and me. To any seer, doc. Any seer who looked at our lights right now would know we are married. They’d know it, even if they didn’t see us together. Even if we said nothing to them about it and neither of us ever went through any kind of ritual or wore any kind of ring.
They could see it in our light... do you understand? It’s not just culture. It’s who we are now.”
When I frowned at him, shaking my head, his voice sharpened.
“Gaos, Miri... I know you understand this. What the fuck do you think your uncle was so angry about? I thought you got that... the whole ‘mate’ thing. What did you think it meant? That we’d be lifelong fuck-buddies, but it wouldn’t go any deeper than that?”
That time, he sounded almost angry.
I stared up at him, breathing harder. Tears came back to my eyes. “You married me without telling me?”
He hesitated, looking down at my face. “Doc,” he said, softer. “It doesn’t work like that. One seer doesn’t ‘do’ it to another... it’s mutual. I promise you, it’s mutual. By design.”
“But my uncle said––”
“I know what that bastard said,” Black growled. “But I’m telling you, it doesn’t work like that, Miri. It just doesn’t.”
“Then why was he so mad at you?” I folded my arms tighter, staring up at him.
Seeing my expression, Black sighed, leaning his weight to one side on the mattress before he met my gaze. Combing a hand through his hair, he exhaled again.
“Your uncle expected me to stop it, Miri. He was pissed off at me because he expected me to see what was happening and stop it... to walk away from you before our light restructured around one another. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t even try to stop it really, so yeah, he’s mad at me. He blames me because I knew about seers and I let it happen.”
He shrugged, giving me a faintly embarrassed look.
“He’s basically mad because I wanted it. Not because he thinks I forced you into mating with me, for fuck’s sake, but because I wanted it, Miri. He can’t blame you for wanting me... you’re his blood. But he can blame me for it, and tell himself that I took advantage of you, by letting us become mates when I could have walked before that happened...”
Grimacing, I refolded my arms tighter, feeling my skin flush hotter again. “Do you have to say it like that?” I grumbled. “Mates. It sounds so... I don’t know. Animalistic.”
He grinned at me, pressing closer, but I shoved at his chest.
“Don’t get cute with me right now, Black... I mean it. How could you not tell me this?”
“Not tell you?” He stared at me, a denser hurt suddenly visible in his eyes. “Miri! We talked about this. Your uncle talked about it... the important aspects, anyway.”
I shook my head. “No. We didn’t talk. Remember? We didn’t.”
“And that’s my fault?” he said, sharper.
“Whose fault would it be, Black?” I snapped.
“I asked you if you wanted to talk,” he growled. “I asked you, Miri. You heard what your uncle said, same as me! You heard him say once we consummated, there was no turning back. Don’t pretend like you didn’t have a fucking say in this!”
“Calm down,” I snapped, looking towards Angel’s room. “You’re going to wake her up.”
“Calm down? You want me to calm down? My fucking wife is accusing me of raping her... of lying to her and forcing her into marriage with me against her will...”
That intensity of hurt on him rippled outward, hot enough and violent enough to scare me. Feeling the fear there, the pain coming off him, I gripped his hair, leaning my face closer to his. I met his eyes that time, forcing him to meet mine.
“Black,” I murmured. “Hey... come on. Calm down, okay...? Calm down...” I kissed his face, caressing his jaw where it wasn’t hurt. “I’m not saying that, okay? I’m not.”
“You were saying that, Miriam...”
“I was. But I’m not now.”
When he shook his head, his jaw hard, I found myself opening, pulsing heat into his chest. I watched his eyes close, even as some of that charge I’d felt in his light began to break apart, to flash outwards in heat right before it grew softer, less directed. Pain rose in my own body as I watched his face change. That vulnerability mixed with my own wanting until it nearly blanked out my mind. I watched his expression grow even more open, more filled with pain.
“Fuck, Miri...”
Tears came to his eyes, shocking me even more. I found myself kissing his face again without thought, sliding my arms around his neck as I pressed up against him.
“I wanted that,” he murmured. “Last night... I wanted it, Miri. So fucking badly.” His voice grew so soft I could barely hear him, even with his mouth resting by my ear. “What you did last night... gaos. Miri... I’ve been asking you for that. For weeks I’ve been asking. But now, this... I can’t do this right now. I feel like you’re cutting my heart out of my fucking chest and I can’t do this right now, Miri. Not after last night...”
My throat closed so tightly I couldn’t swallow.
I nodded, though, understanding him more than I wanted.
More than that, I could feel him again, so intensely that I couldn’t see or feel anything else. Or maybe I just couldn’t care about any of the rest of it, or even pretend to care anymore. I found myself gripping him tighter in my hands, stroking his shoulders and arms before I wound my fingers into his hair. I wrapped my legs around him too, even as I forced myself to think. I opened more to him as I did, letting that relief wash over both of us again.
A few seconds later, I felt him sigh. It was a real sigh that time. That fear in him began to ebb. I felt him letting it go, right before he leaned his weight into mine. By then, I knew. Or maybe I’d just finally admitted it to myself.
He was right. I’d known about this.
I’d been in denial about it, yes... but I’d known.
I’d been pretending I didn’t know how he felt, or how I felt... but I’d known that, too.
I wrapped my arms around him tighter as another pulse of relief left his light, probably because he’d heard at least some portion of what I’d been thinking. I found myself fighting tears when I felt the relief there, even as I realized again that it wasn’t only me who felt vulnerable.
We lay there for what felt like a long time.
Long enough for Black to relax more. Long enough for him to eventually doze off in my arms, which also made me realize how tired he was, how little sleep I felt on him from the days he’d been gone. I was tired too. It took me longer than him to fall back asleep, but eventually I felt my mind wanting to follow his to a simpler place.
Before I drifted off, however, I realized something else.
The feeling overwhelming me wasn’t anger, or even distrust––it was fear. It wasn’t the fear I’d been telling myself it was, either. As much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, my fear wasn’t aimed at Black, or at what he might do. It wasn’t even aimed at the idea of the two of us being together from now on, given how different we were and how we still seemed to flip out on one another at the drop of a hat. The longer I lay there, the more I wondered if it had ever been about those things. The fear, I mean.
The truth is, I wasn’t afraid of Black.
I’d never been afraid of Black.
I was afraid of me.
In a weird way, I may have even been trying to protect him. I knew it wasn’t over yet. Not just this latest thing, with Templar. Something else was hunting me.
Maybe I was afraid whatever killed Zoe and my parents wasn’t gone yet.
Maybe I was afraid whatever it was, it would get Black, too.
Twelve
DIFFERENT FOOTING
ANGEL DEVERAUX WALKED cautiously into her own living room at just after eleven thirty in the morning, after stopping midway in her hall and listening to the silence.
She’d gone out to that same hall the night before, a P226 DAK she’d gotten for Christmas from her boyfriend, Anthony, clutched in both hands. The gun had a bullet chambered, the safety off, and it was loaded with a brand new magazine as she edged out to investigate the noises she’d heard in her living room.
She figured out pretty quick that it wasn’t the Templar, there to kill Miri.
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br /> She stared long enough to recognize the shockingly colorful tattoo of a winged dragon on Black’s back, and to see that they were both naked, that Black was fucking her best friend on Angel’s mother’s floor rug with an alarming amount of athleticism––and seemingly without any awareness of anything going on in the world apart from the two of them.
Then Angel saw tears in his eyes, heard him murmuring to her...
And she backed away.
She’d retreated back to the darkness of the hall, cursing both of them silently under her breath as she lowered the gun.
She made it back to her room a few seconds later.
Even so, something about what she’d seen had shaken her.
She’d found herself lying in bed for awhile after that, remembering the look on Miri’s face as she’d looked up at him, how small she’d looked beneath him, her hands white and small-looking too, where she clutched Black’s arms. Angel had never thought of Miri as a small woman before, or as a particularly vulnerable one.
It also hit her that Miri and Black’s relationship suddenly seemed a lot less funny.
She’d told Miri herself she thought Black was in love with her. She hadn’t been blowing smoke––Angel believed that when she said it. Even so, it was different to actually see it. It was also different to see Black when he wasn’t acting with his usual swagger and bullshit routine.
Honestly though, what she’d seen on Miri bothered her more.
Miri had looked at him like...
Well, like she didn’t expect him to stick around, for one. Miri had been looking at Black like she expected him to rip out her heart and stomp on it one day soon... like she was just waiting for that day to happen and had resigned herself to it.
Angel didn’t like that much.
She trusted her friend’s instincts too, which made her like it even less.
She glanced out into the living room this time long enough to see that the two of them were on the pull-out couch bed, and more or less covered. Black’s upper body still was bare and both of them were clearly naked under the blankets that covered them to about waist-height, but he had his arms wrapped around Miri where he cradled her against his chest.
Black Is Back (Quentin Black Mystery #4) Page 19
