Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [92]
“Did he call you for help?” I asked, still leaning against the door.
“No, I needed to ask him about pack business, and I tried him at the school, but he’d called in sick. Then I called his house and got no answer. Anita, please, let us in.”
Mother fucking son of a bitch. I could not believe that I was having to do this. The man that had broken my heart, called me a monster was about to get soaked in my bathtub for God knew how long.
I unlocked the door and opened it with me behind, hiding, so I couldn’t be seen, or see.
Jamil eased through the door with Richard in his arms. It wasn’t weight that made it hard—Jamil could have bench-pressed the entire bathroom—it was that Richard was broad-shouldered, and Jamil wasn’t small himself.
I tried not to look at either of them, getting only a brief glimpse of Jamil’s cornrowed hair, bright red beads intertwined. His shirt was a red to match the beads, his suit jacket black. I didn’t take the time to see if his pants matched the jacket. I just started for the door, towels clutched to me.
“Can you turn on the water for me, Anita?” Jamil asked.
“No,” I said, and I fled.
26
I GOT DRESSED. I couldn’t remember if I’d gotten around to using shampoo on my hair, or only gotten it wet, and I didn’t care. I had an image of Richard’s face burned in my mind. Eyes closed, that perfectly square jaw with its dimple. But there had been no spill of that glorious hair around his shoulders. That wonderful hair that was brown shot with gold and copper, so that it almost glowed in the sunlight. He’d cut his hair. He’d cut his hair.
I remembered the feel of it in my hands, the silken slide of it over my body, the spill of it around his face when he rose over me. Richard lying underneath my body, his hair like a rich cloud on the pillow, as his eyes lost focus and his body thrust into mine.
I was sitting on the bed, crying, when there was a knock at the door. I had jeans on, but had only gotten to my bra. “Just a minute.” My voice was only a little thick.
I slipped the red T-shirt on over the black jeans. I started to say come in, then realized it could be Richard. Unlikely since he was unconscious minutes ago, but I couldn’t take the chance. “Who is it?”
“Nathaniel.”
“Come in.” I scrubbed at my eyes and had my back to the door, while I looked at my shoulder holster and tried to figure out what I’d done with my belt. I needed the belt to slide through the shoulder holster. Where the hell was my belt?
“The police are on the phone,” he said, voice quiet.
I just shook my head. “I can’t find my belt.”
“I’ll find it for you,” he said. I knew from his voice that he was farther into the room now. I hadn’t heard him move. It was like I wasn’t hearing everything, like I was losing pieces of things.
“What’s wrong with me?” I hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud.
“Richard’s here,” Nathaniel said, as if that explained it all.
I kept shaking my head, trying to run my hands through my wet hair. It was tangled. I hadn’t used shampoo, let alone conditioner. It was going to be a mess when it dried. “Fuck!”
He touched my shoulder, and I jerked away. “No, no, don’t be nice to me. If you’re nice I’ll cry.”
“Do you want me to be cruel, would that make you feel better?”
It was such an odd question that it made me look at him. He was still wearing the jogging shorts he’d left the room in, but he’d unbraided his hair and brushed it into a shining auburn curtain. A stray bit of sunlight gleamed in his hair. I knew what all that hair felt like rushing over my body. It was so thick, so heavy, that it made a sound like dry water when it cascaded around me. I’d always denied myself everything that Nathaniel could offer. I’d always backed off from enjoying every part of him.