Hit List - Laurell K. Hamilton [21]
“It’s for a couple of hours.” He frowned. “Or are you saying that you’ll need to feed the ardeur when you wake up?”
I took the question seriously. “I’ve gotten better at controlling it. I’ll need solid food, protein. Staying fed physically helps control all the other hungers.”
“Good,” he said, and began to lay his guns on the bedside table.
“How am I ever going to reach a handgun on the floor?” I asked, as I climbed onto the far side of the bed by the wall.
He handed me a P90 carbine, though submachine gun was always what I wanted to say when I saw one. “Try this.”
“My MP5 is in the other room,” I said as I checked out the feel of the new gun. I’d shot one, in fact this one, but only at the shooting range with Edward. It was a sweet gun, but the MP5 was a nice gun, too. I put the bigger gun on the side of the bed, practiced rolling over, and I could reach it better than the handgun.
Then came that awkward moment when we were actually supposed to get into a twin bed together. I slept with and had sex with a dozen men on a regular basis, but suddenly it was awkward. Edward and I weren’t lovers, and never would be. We were friends and damn near family.
I sat up on my side of the bed by the wall. “Am I the only one who feels a little awkward here?”
“Yes,” he said, and sat down on his side of the bed. He grinned at me suddenly, that smile that was all that was left of a younger man before his life went hard and cold. “You know, you may be a succubus and a living vampire, but part of you will always be the small-town girl who isn’t sure she should be doing all this.”
I scowled at him. “Should I be insulted?”
“No, it’s part of your charm that no matter how many men you have in your life, you never quite get comfortable with it.”
I scowled harder. “Why is it charming?”
He shrugged. “Not sure, but it’s very you.”
I frowned at him. “And being all mysterious and vague is very you.”
The grin faded a little, to almost his normal smile. It was a colder smile.
I had a thought. “What would you have done if I’d said that I’d need to feed the ardeur when I woke up?”
He lay down, spilling the sheet over him. I already had the sheet over me. He turned and looked at me with the lamp still on. “Dealt with it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we would have dealt with it.”
“Edward . . .”
“Let it go, Anita,” he said, and then he reached up and turned off the light. And just as he was one of the few people in the world that I would let back me up, he was one of the few that I would let drop this particular topic. He was right; we’d deal with it, the way we dealt with everything else.
I lay on my back in the dark. He was doing the same. “Edward,” I asked.
“Hmm,” he said.
“Are you a side sleeper, or a back sleeper?”
“Back.”
“I’m a side sleeper, so no spooning, I guess.”
“What?”
I laughed and turned over on my side. “Good night, Edward.”
“Good night, Anita.”
We slept.
7
I WOKE TO country music and my arm flung over someone’s stomach. That someone was wearing a T-shirt; no one I slept with wore clothes to bed. I felt that someone move as he rose up and said, “Yes, morning.”
The moment I heard his voice I knew it was Edward, and the night came flooding back. Without rising up, I said, “Who is it? Is it another murder?”
“It’s Donna,” he said.
That made me lift my head and blink at him. It also made me take my arm off his stomach and scootch a little back from him so we weren’t touching, as if his fiancée could see as well as hear us.
“It’s Anita,” he said.
Donna’s voice was suddenly loud enough for me to hear it. “What’s she doing waking up beside you?”
“There was only one bed.”
I buried my face in the pillow. That was so not the answer he should have given.
“Hold on,” he said, and he used his phone to take a picture of the mattress and box springs against the window. “I’m sending you a picture that shows what happened to the other bed.”
“This better be good,” she said, voice still loud with anger.
I glanced at Edward’s calm face as he listened to her angry breathing. A few minutes later