She hasn’t noticed me. I could turn around and duck out, leaving my dental floss behind. But dental hygiene is important. Even for gods.
“You look like death.” Not true. Even sick, she’s adorable, but her head comes up and her eyes narrow at the sound of my voice.
“Apparently, skinny-dipping in March has its drawbacks,” she says with a pointed glare.
The rare display of temper makes me smile. “But it was really great sex, Pearl.”
“Regardless, Ace. There won’t be a repeat today, so shoo.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Shoo?”
She sighs, then sniffles again, waving a pale, dismissive hand. “Know how much sleep I got last night? None. I’m not up to flirting with you or anything else. So, shoo.”
There is a heavy dullness to her words that should have me taking her order at face value. Instead, I dig in my heels. Because on second glance, she really doesn’t look so good. “No.”
“Why not?”
Why indeed?
Then she stumbles and her lashes flutter. A tingle of alarm buzzes up my spine and I drop my dental floss to grab her before she pitches headfirst into the cough syrup.
“Hey. You’re really sick.”
“What was your first clue?” The sarcasm tries for biting, but the words are too faint to carry any sting.
I’m starting to get mad. “You need a doctor.”
“Just been. Her orders were, and I quote, ‘Go home and hide under your covers until you feel better.’ Oh, and the proverbial, ‘drink plenty of fluids.’ ” She rolls her eyes and sways again. Cursing softly, I scoop her into my arms. That delicacy I noted previously is more pronounced and her skin is burning mine even through our combined layers of clothes. That can’t be good.
“You shouldn’t be out getting your own medicine and shit,” I snap. “Who’s taking care of you?”
“Me, myself and I. Independent woman, remember?”
I frown. Never having been sick, I’m pretty clueless when it comes to stuff like this, but still, I know the basics, or at least what I’ve seen on TV. Her family should be on this. “Where are your parents?”
Her eyes drift close again. “Out of town.” A short pause. “For the holiday.”
What fucking holiday? “St. Patrick’s Day?”
“What can I say? We’re Irish.” She seems to gather herself and tries to sit up. “I’m fine. Just set me down and give me a starting push, and I’ll be on my way.”
Yeah. Screw that. I leave my dental floss in the middle of the aisle and head up to the checkout with her in my arms.
“Give me everything you got for the flu,” I bark at the guy behind the counter. He’s looking at his phone and smirking. His ears are pierced in fifteen different places and gauged within an inch of his life.
He doesn’t even look at me. “Dude, you want a personal shopper, go to—”
I kick the counter, watching him jump, meet my eyes and jump again. “Now, asshole. Or I’ll stretch those gauges in your ears down around your ankles.”
He pales and bustles off without protest. He’s back in record time, laying bottles and bags on the counter. “I got you NyQuil, some Sudafed, cough drops. Also threw in some 7UP and sherbet,” he says in a rush. “They always made me feel better when I was a kid, plus my mom said the vitamin C is good for the immune system.”
“Great, kid. Just ring it up.”
He scrambles to obey and then carries the bags out to my Jeep for us. Katie laughs softly against my chest as I set her on the passenger seat. “You have a way with people, Q.”
Her head falls back and she closes her eyes. Her color is somewhere between pale and ashy. I close her door before spotting the same unassuming gray Camry I noticed at the Valley of Fire across the parking lot. I grit my teeth, thinking of her driving in this condition. Mortals are so frail. What the hell was she thinking? When I start up the Jeep a second later, still cursing under my breath, she glances over.
“Something wrong?”
“Just tell me where you live, Pearl, before I lose my temper here.”
She blinks but gives me the address in a soft voice. It’s less than five blocks, which gives me just enough time to stew some more before I’m pulling into a parking spot labeled visitors only. It’s a nice apartment complex, sprawling and well landscaped. Katie tries again to insist she can walk, but I open the passenger door and scoop her into my arms without a word. She sighs.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Neanderthal.”
“And I,” I say as I push open the glass door to the building she points out, “wouldn’t have pegged you as suicidal, but here we are.”
“Hey,” she protests as I ignore the elevator and head for the stairs. “That’s not fair. I’m just a little sick.”
“No, Pearl. You’re a lot fucking sick. And you know it.” The look I give shuts her up, and when I ask for her keys one flight later, she hands them over without protest.
Her apartment is tiny and wrapped in shadows, the blinds pulled against the brightness outside. I dump the medicine on the kitchen counter and shift her in my arms. “Bedroom?”
She points at one of two doors and a second later, I set her on a double bed with a vibrant orange comforter. It’s dim in here, too, but I catch glimpses of her personality in the huge black-and-white photographs of the Valley of Fire that dominate the walls. There’s a stack of novels next to the bed, swaying precariously. And on the nightstand are a bunch of thick chemistry texts, along with a notepad covered with complicated-looking equations.
I pull off her yoga pants, then her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra, but even the sight of her tits doesn’t ease my temper. I throw the covers over her, then tuck them under her chin. It feels awkward, but I’ve seen this on TV, too. You’re supposed to tuck people in when they’re sick. I turn on my heel and head back to the kitchen, pulling out the items gauge boy deemed worthy one by one. The sherbet goes in the freezer, alongside a skimpy showing of yogurt bars and a bottle of vodka.
I read the directions on the bottle of blue medicine carefully, but my hands shake when I pour the thick liquid into the plastic cup. It looks vile, but then isn’t medicine supposed to be? I’m way out of my element here.
Gods can be poisoned, gods can be wounded, but we don’t do sick. Viruses and bacteria don’t know what to do with our chemical makeup and usually self-destruct. The few illnesses that have crossed that DNA bridge only work on half-breeds. It’s one of the only clues I have to my father’s identity—whoever he is, he’s not human.
But Katie is.
It hits me again when I walk back into the bedroom and see how pale she is against the bright covers. Her humanity. I’ve never thought about it much. I should have. I’ve lived among them for a very long time. I’ve partied with humans, fucked them, pretended to be one of them. But I’m not one of them.
And the last human I cared about died because of me.
I set the water down, then hold out the plastic cup with the medicine.
“Drink.” She downs the blue stuff without a wince. Impressive.
I take the cup from her, but before I can, she cups my jaw, her eyes wide. “You’re scared.”
I yank back and avoid her gaze, straightening the covers.
“I’ll be okay,” she whispers.
“Yeah, well, you better be.” I head for the door. “Because now that I know where you live, the whole stalking thing is about to get real.”
A soft laugh.
I pause in the doorway, glancing back over my shoulder. She looks so small and frail and wan I have to fight the urge to walk back to her side.
Her eyes are already closing, but her lips curve. “I look forward to it.”
I shut the door softly and stand there for a minute. It takes a monumental effort, but finally I pull her keys from my pocket and head for the door.
Chapter Six
I’m in and out of her place for the next couple days checking on her, making sure she eats.
But one day when I show up, she’s not there.
And the car I drove back for her is gone.
I pace outside her apartment, having opened the door when she didn’t answer. It felt wrong to remain inside once I realized she was gone, so here I am, worried more than I have any right to be. She’s over the worst of her illness, besides being a grown woman who managed her life just fine before I came along. But I’m still as nervous as Medusa in a hall of mirrors.
Finally, the elevator dings. A second later, she steps out, looking better than I’ve seen her since our hike in the Valley of Fire. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, her eyes bright and clear. I smile in relief, but she doesn’t return the favor.
She slows, glancing from me to the door that’s ajar, her lips suddenly tight. “You’ve graduated from stalking to breaking and entering. Nice, Q. What’s next?”
“Hey, I have your keys, remember? And I barely entered. I was waiting for you to get home first.”
“Mm-hmm.” She gives me a look as I take her groceries from her. It’s a small bag, full of vegetables. “I felt better, and luckily I have a spare key since someone appropriated mine.”
Her look is eloquent and I drop her key ring into her hand. “Just keeping them safe for you.”
Her fingers close around the keys and she turns away from me without replying. I frown. Her sudden coolness is kind of pissing me off. Especially after I spent most of the week taking care of her ungrateful ass.
The one thing I don’t want to acknowledge is how much it stings. So I cover the only way I know how.
“I was hoping to find you still in bed.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m not.”
I raise my eyebrows before looking in the bag as if I can’t hear her teeth grinding together. “What did you get us?”
She drops the keys and I pick them up for her, handing them over with a smirk. “Right now, I’m hungry for something other than sherbet or crackers. So I’m making dinner. For me.”
“I could eat.”
She shakes her head before leaning against the doorframe. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I think you mean insatiable.”
“That, too. But you’re not getting lucky tonight.”
“You said that the last time we met up, too,” I point out. “Before you almost passed out in the CVS.”
She has the grace to look guilty before pushing the door open the rest of the way with her foot. “Fine, come in.”
The lights are on because I left them that way. Her kitchen is black Formica, cheap but serviceable, with pale, pearly flecks and veins that try unconvincingly to imitate marble. She starts to unpack the bag I set on the counter, not looking at me. There are two high spots of color in her cheeks. Neither of us speak. The tension in the air is so thick it’s like breathing through damp wool.
Finally, she slams down a head of lettuce she’s just rinsed before waving a hand at the drawer I already know contains her knives. I’ve been fumbling around her kitchen for days, after all.
“Might as well make yourself useful. There’s a cutting board over there.” But the tone of her voice is sharper than any blade.
This is ridiculous. I thought I’d done something decent for once in my life, but obviously I was wrong. She doesn’t want me here and my being an asshole about it isn’t going to change her mind.
“I think my stalking days are over,” I say, forcing a light tone as I push away from the counter. “But it’s been real. Take care of yourself.”
Her shoulders slump. Before I can I head for the door, she throws out a hand. “Wait, Q.”
I wait.
And wait. With any other woman, I would have been out the door already. But something about her holds me in place.
Katie takes a deep breath, looking at me with her eyebrows furrowed, before her gaze darts away.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, pushing back her hair, turning to fill a pan with water as if she can’t stand to stay still. “For taking care of me. It was really sweet and I appreciate it. I . . . I’m just not used to accepting help.” She sets the half-full pan on the stove. Turns the burner on. Finally meets my eyes. I swallow at the vulnerability there. “And I guess I’m not very good at it.”
Not sure what to say. I ease past her to pick up the lettuce. “Well, I’m not used to being sweet. Or taking care of anyone.” I pick up the knife and start hacking away. “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised I didn’t make you worse. So, you know, no thanks needed.”
Her lips twitch. She opens a box of pasta. “Good. Because I’m not going to fuck you out of gratitude or anything.”
“Oh.” The disappointment in my tone is embarrassingly clear.
She smiles into the steam that is starting to roll up from the pan. “I’m going to fuck you because I really, really want to.”
“Oh. So, how long so you think dinner will be?”
The seafood linguini is amazing, but not as amazing as the sex that comes after. She’s still a little weaker than normal, so we take it slow. Turns out, slow with Katie is just as incredible as fast. Maybe more incredible. When she comes, under the haze of pleasure I see the confusion in her eyes. As if she doesn’t quite know what we’re doing anymore. I can relate.
I wonder what she sees in my gaze as I look down at her. Then I’m coming and all thought is wiped away as I bury myself in her body. Sleep buries me right after, introspection pushed aside for later.
The next thing I know I’m waking up in her bed, a god-awful screeching rending the air. I sit bolt upright, expecting Harpies. But it’s just Katie’s alarm clock. Blinking, I rub a hand over my beard, still trying to orientate myself.
I can’t believe she let me spend the night.
Next to me, she stirs, pushing tangled strands of golden red out of her face. She wrinkles her nose. “I can’t believe I let you spend the night.”
“I think it’s still technically night, actually.” I stare blurry eyed at the alarm. “Holy shit, it’s like five in the morning. You must have set that wrong.”
“Nope. 5:15. Time to rise and shine. Welcome to my world, ace. The world of responsibilities.” She sighs and reaches over to shut off the alarm clock before twisting around in my arms. “Now, you plan on doing anything with that hard-on that’s been poking me in the ass for the last five minutes?”
“I thought you had responsibilities.” But I’m already lifting her thigh, pulling it over my hip. We’re both naked and her head falls back as my cock slides over her clit.
“They can wait for ten minutes.”
“How about twenty?”
I reach for the condoms on the nightstand, but she stays my hand. “Nope. Being sick means I’m already behind. We’ve got to hurry.” I raise an eyebrow as she pushes me onto my back, grinning. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
Then her warm body is wriggling down between my legs, her intent obvious.
Oh. Hell yeah.
She takes me firmly in hand, sending a burst of tingling heat up my spine. Her fingers can’t quite touch, but when she wraps her soft lips around my tip, it doesn’t matter. I see stars, whole constellations and shit. Katie’s never used her mouth on me. But in seconds, it’s clear she’s really fucking good at it, just like she is everything else. My eyes roll back as she swirls her tongue around me, a slick, hot wash of pleasure that has my balls achy and tight, ready to explode.
She sucks harder and dimly I realize she’s got one hand between her own legs, working herself as she works me. That’s it. Groaning, I sink both hands into that wild tangle of rose-gold silk and lift my hips, forcing her to take more of my length. Her eyes go wide, but she makes these little mewing sounds around my cock that tell me she doesn’t mind one bit.
“You want to swallow for me, baby?” My voice is raw, low and almost angry with need. “That turn you on?”
Katie whimpers in unmistakable assent, the vibrations making me groan. Those big blue-green eyes are wet, her lashes dark and heavy as she
struggles to accommodate my sudden thrusts. But I can’t help myself and neither can she. She’s working herself faster now and the hard points of her nipples drag over my thighs until I can’t take a second more.
I fist her hair and explode down her throat, my muffled shout mixed with the soft, wet sounds of her swallowing every drop. Then she lets me fall from her lips, gasping for air as her body twitches violently in orgasm. I watch in awe, unable to do more than stroke her hair with fingers that shake.
A minute later, she lifts her head from my thigh, licking swollen and rosy lips.
“Two minutes to spare. Told you,” she says with a satisfied gleam in her eyes.
“So you did.”
I put my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling after she grabs her clothes and heads into the shower.
I’m not sure what is happening here, but whatever it is, I’m good.
I am so fucking good.
Somehow over the next few weeks, that feeling persists. I get sucked into her world. I’m not at her place every day or anything, but almost. She doesn’t complain either way, but her eyes light up whenever she answers the door and I’m standing there.
It makes me feel about ten feet tall. Surprisingly, I like being part of Katie’s world. Even though I gotta say, she really does work way too fucking hard. In fact, I start feeling guilty for being such a lazy ass. Besides the bar three nights a week and the volunteering for that cancer charity that I quickly find out was far from a one-time deal, Katie is working on her bachelor’s degree in chemical engineering, taking a full load with an eye to pursuing pharmaceutical chemistry, of all things.
I’m looking over her stack of books one night while she’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth, my head spinning and feeling more than a little inadequate as I thumb through the pages.
“How do you keep all this straight?” I mumble under my breath. I’m no dummy, but I’m more people-smart than book-smart. This stuff is Greek to me—except I can actually read Greek.
She glances over at me. “I like it.”
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