Afterlight - Elle Jasper [48]
“I hate this,” I said quietly.
With a grip only slightly less ironlike than the one on my shoulder, Eli grasped my chin and made me look at him. “It’s not going to be easy,” he said, “but you’re going to have to try.”
Through bleary eyes I studied him. “That dream was horrible and . . . so realistic. My brother wanted to kill me; they all did—like I was effing dinner.”
“You’ve no idea how potent your blood is,” he said, still grasping my jaw. “Just knowing it’s there, masked though it may be, it is a heady temptation.”
I blinked, and to be frank it was getting harder and harder to concentrate with his hand on me. “And Gilles sent you to guard me because . . . ?” I let the question hang, anxiously awaiting a decent response.
Eli laughed softly. “Because while I’m probably the most lethal of my siblings, I also have more control. And your Preacher would have no less.”
I nodded, he dropped his hand, and I was completely aware of how close his body was to mine. I drew a breath and boldly met his steady gaze. “I learned a long time ago not to depend on anyone’s shoulder to cry on, so all this . . . consoling is very weird for me.”
Eli’s eyes left mine and moved to my shoulder. Without permission, he lifted my left arm, leaned over it, and traced my dragon’s lithe body from my collarbone to my index finger, inspecting it closely. My skin warmed immediately. “I think you hide behind your art,” he said evenly, then set my arm down and looked at me. “Just because you curse, fight like a dude, and ink your skin”—he lifted a forefinger and traced the wing at my eye—“doesn’t mean you don’t need a shoulder.” He rose. “Everybody needs one of those, Riley. Even . . . us.” He gave a slight smile. “I think you’re bullshitting. Beneath all that tough-ass exterior you really want someone to rescue you.” Crossing my bedroom floor, he stopped at the door while I remained speechless. “Lucky for you I’m not exactly busy at the moment.” With a final look of victory that I wanted to smack right off of him, he left the room.
The pillow I threw landed too late; it hit the wall beside the door, and his easy chuckle sounded from the living room. Frustrated, I jumped up, retrieved my pillow, and climbed back into bed. Arrogant bastard. “What did that mean, anyway?” I hollered into the living room. “That Frenchy stuff?”
“Quiet down, painted one.”
Somehow, those four words affected me. Eli might think it, maybe fully believe it. But I’d never—never—admit that he was sort of right. Not completely right, but yeah—sort of. Shoving my earbuds in, I cranked up “Heads Will Roll” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and fell hard asleep.
When next I woke, the morning sun was beaming in through the balcony door. My very first thought was Seth. And no lie, my second thought was Oh, shit—I have mouthwatering, one-of-a-kind blood. Third thought? I have a hell of a hangover. Crawling from the bed, I walked into the living room and stopped short. I found Eli on the sofa, Chaz beside him with his big furry head resting in Eli’s lap. Chaz saw me and didn’t budge; simply wagged his hiniesca (he has no tail).
“Get any sleep?” Eli said, looking like he’d showered and changed—two things I didn’t think a vampire would even bother with. He was scrubbing Chaz between the ears.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I frowned. “What did you do to my dog?”
Eli shrugged. “We’re friends now.”
“Right.” I glanced at the clock. “Any bodies turn up this morning?”
Eli regarded me with solemn eyes. “Not yet. But they won’t all turn up, Riley.”
I nodded. “Gotta get next door and back in forty minutes. My first appointment is at eleven today.”
I hurried from the room, hastily brushed my teeth, and pulled on a pair of black board shorts with a small skull and crossbones, a lightweight hoodie, and flip-flops, and walked to the door. I patted my thigh.