Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [1044]
“I don’t remember what I was dreaming,” I said. I raised a hand to smooth the wetness along my cheek.
“You taste salty from all the crying,” she said.
The bed moved, and Zane peeked around my other shoulder. “Can I lick the other cheek?”
It made me laugh, and that was almost miracle enough to let him do it, almost. I sat up and instantly regretted it. My whole body felt stiff and abused, aching, as if I’d been beaten. Hell, I’d felt better after some of the beatings I’d taken over the years. I hugged the blanket to me, partially to cover my nakedness, partially because I was cold.
I leaned against the head of the bed, frowning. “You said nightmare. What time is it?”
“About five,” Cherry said. “I could say daymare, if you like, but either way, you were—” she hesitated—“whimpering in your sleep.”
I hugged the blanket tighter. “I don’t remember.”
She sat up, patting my knee under the blanket. “Are you hungry?”
I shook my head.
She and Zane exchanged one of those looks that say just how worried about you people are. It made me angry.
“Look, I’m okay.”
They both looked at me.
I frowned at them. “I’ll be okay, alright.”
They didn’t look convinced.
“I need to get dressed.”
They both just lay there staring at me.
“Which means get out and give me some space.”
They exchanged another of those looks, which bugged me, but at a nod from Cherry, they both got up off the bed and went for the door. “And put some clothes on,” I said.
“If it’ll make you feel better,” Cherry said.
“It will,” I said.
Zane gave a little salute. “Your wish is our command.”
That was actually a little too close to the truth, but I let it go. When they were gone, I picked out some clothes, some weapons, and made it to the bathroom without seeing anyone. I wouldn’t have put it past Cherry to make sure I had a clear shot to the bathroom. They were managing me, but this morning, make that afternoon, I didn’t care enough to complain.
I was as quick in the bathroom as I could be, and for some reason I didn’t like looking in the mirror. I was trying not to think, and seeing my eyes staring back at me like those of a shock victim made it hard not to think about why I looked so pale, so shell-shocked.
I put on my usual black undies and matching bra. It was getting to the point where I didn’t own a white bra. Jean-Claude’s fault. Black jogging socks, black jeans, black polo shirt, shoulder rig, complete with Browning Hi-Power, the Firestar in its interpants holster in front almost lost against the black shirt. I even added the wrist sheaths and the two silver knives. I didn’t need this much firepower for walking around the house, especially with so many shapeshifters running around, but I was feeling shaky, as if my world was less solid today than yesterday. I’d always thought that Richard and I would work something out. I wasn’t sure what, but something. Now, I didn’t believe that. We weren’t going to work anything out. We weren’t going to be anything, except the bare miniumum to each other. I wasn’t even sure his invitation to be Bolverk was still on the table. I hoped so. I could lose him as my lover, but I couldn’t let him send the pack to rack and ruin. If he didn’t cooperate, I wasn’t sure how I was going to stop it, but that was a problem for another day. Today my goal was just to survive, just to get through the day. I huddled my weapons around me like comfort objects. If I’d been alone in the house, or if it had just been Nathaniel, I would have carried Sigmund, my stuffed toy penguin, around with me. That was how bad a day it was.
I did have a moment when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in my bedroom where I stopped and had to smile. I looked like I was dressed in casual assassin chic. I’d teased some of my friends who were assassins or bounty hunters about assassin chic, but sometimes you gotta go with the stereotypes. Besides, I look great in black. The black-on-black look