Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [77]
Jason gunned the engine and backed up with a screech of tires. He was a ways down the street before I could chatter out, “you’ll get a ticket.”
“I’ve called Micah. He’s waiting. You and Nathaniel can share the bathtub.”
I managed to get out, “What?”
“I don’t know exactly what’s wrong, Anita, but you’re acting like a shape-shifter that’s been badly hurt. Like your body’s trying to heal some deep wound. You need heat, and the touch of your group.”
“I,” teeth chattering so hard I couldn’t finish, “haven’t . . .” I stopped trying for a sentence and settled for, “Not hurt.”
“I know that you’re not hurt that badly. But even if it was the vampire bite, you’d be warm to the touch, hot, cooking to heal yourself. You shouldn’t feel cold.”
My ears started ringing. It sounded like someone was hitting a chime over and over. The ringing drowned out Jason’s voice, the sound of the engine, and finally everything. I passed out for the second time in less than two hours. This was not turning out to be one of my better days.
22
I WAS FLOATING in water, warm, warm water. Arms held me in place, a man’s body brushed against mine in the water. I opened my eyes to the flickering light of candles. Was I back at the Circus of the Damned? Two things happened to let me know exactly where I was: pale tile gleamed on the edge of the bathtub, and the arms around my shoulders tightened, drew me closer. The moment the back of my body settled firmly against the front of his, I knew it was Micah.
I knew the curve of his shoulder, the way my body seemed to slide into every line and hollow of his body. His tanned arms were delicate for a man’s, but as he snuggled me against him, muscles moved under his skin. I knew how much strength there was in his slender body. He was like me, a lot more than met the eye.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, voice so close to my ear that a whisper seemed loud.
My voice came distant and hollow the way I’d been feeling all day. “Better.”
“At least you’re warmer,” he said. “Jason said you were sick, dizzy. Has that passed?”
I thought about it, trying to feel my body, and not just the comforting warmth and closeness. “Yeah, I do feel better. What the hell was wrong with me?”
He turned me in his arms, so that he held me across him, and we could look at each other. He smiled down at me. The tan that he’d come with had started to fade a little, but he was still dark, and that darkness framed his most startling feature. His eyes were kitty-cat eyes. I’d originally thought they were yellow green, but they were yellow, or green, or any combination of either, depending on his mood, the light, the color of shirt he wore.
His pupils had spread like black pools, and the thin line of color that chased round them was a pale true green. Human eyes weren’t really green, not really. Grayish green, maybe, but a true clear green, rarely. But Micah’s eyes were.
Those eyes sat in a face that was beautiful in the way a woman’s face was beautiful. Delicate. There was a line to the jaw, a chin that was male, but gently so. His mouth was wide, with the bottom lip thicker than his upper, giving him a permanent pout.
I wanted to feel his lips on mine, feel the brush of his skin under my hands. He affected me as he’d affected me almost from the first moment I saw him—like he was a missing piece of myself that I had to bring as close to my body as I could, as if we’d meld together someday.
He didn’t argue as I brought him down for the kiss. He didn’t tell me that I was hurt and needed to rest. He just leaned in and pressed his mouth against mine.
Kissing him was like breathing, automatic, something your body did so that it wouldn’t die. There was no thought to wanting to touch Micah, no waffling indecision like with every other man in my life. He was my Nimir-Raj, and from the moment we had been together it had been deeper than marriage, more permanent than anything words or paper could bind.