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Well…okay, then.

Listening to his instincts, which told him Tohrment represented safety regardless of what he looked like, John humped his luggage over to the car.

“This all you have?”

John flushed and nodded.

“You got nothing to be embarrassed about, son,” Tohrment said softly. “Not when you’re with me.”

The man reached out and took the suitcase like it weighed nothing, swinging it casually into the backseat.

As Tohrment went to the driver’s side, John realized he’d forgotten the bike. He tapped on the Rover’s hood to get the man’s attention; then he pointed to the building and held up his index finger.

“You need a minute?”

John nodded and shot upstairs to his apartment. He had his bike, and was leaving the keys on the counter, when he paused and looked around. The reality of getting away from the studio made him recognize the squalor of the place. But still, it had been his for a short while, the best he could afford with what little he had. On impulse, he took a pen out of his back pocket, opened one of the flimsy cabinets, and wrote his name and the date on the wall inside.

Then he led his bike out into the hall, shut the door, and moved quickly down the stairwell.

Chapter Thirty-six

“Mary? Mary, wake up. She’s here.”

Mary felt her shoulder get nudged, and when she opened her eyes Rhage was staring down at her. He’d changed into some kind of white outfit, long-sleeved with loose pants.

She sat up, trying to pull it together. “Can I have a minute?”

“Absolutely.”

She went into the bathroom and rinsed off her face. With cold water dripping from her chin, she stared at her reflection. Her lover was about to drink blood. In front of her.

And that wasn’t even the weirdest part. She felt inadequate because what was feeding him wasn’t hers.

Not about to get pulled into that mental tailspin, she picked up a towel and dried off with a good scrub. There was no time to change out of her blue jeans and sweater. And nothing else she really wanted to wear, at any rate.

As she came out, Rhage was taking off his watch.

“You want me to hold that?” she asked, remembering the last time she’d babysat the Rolex.

He walked over and pressed the heavy weight into her palm. “Kiss me.”

She got up on her tiptoes as he leaned down. Their mouths met for a moment.

“Come on.” He took her hand and led her out into the hall. When she looked confused, he said, “I don’t want to do it in our bedroom. That’s our space.”

He took her around the balcony to another guest room. When he opened the door, they went inside together.

Mary smelled roses first and then saw the woman in the corner. Her lush body was draped in a white wraparound gown, and her strawberry-blond hair was coiled up on her head. With the low, wide neckline of the dress and the chignon, her neck was as exposed as possible.

She smiled and bowed, speaking in that unfamiliar language.

“No,” Rhage said. “In English. We do this in English.”

“Of course, warrior.” The woman’s voice was high and pure, like a songbird’s call. Her eyes, pale green and lovely, lingered on Rhage’s face. “I am pleased to serve you.”

Mary shifted, trying to quell the urge to defend her turf. Serve him?

“What is your name, Chosen?” Rhage asked.

“I am Layla.” She bowed again. As she righted herself, her eyes traveled up Rhage’s body.

“This is Mary.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “She is my…”

“Girlfriend,” Mary said sharply.

Rhage’s mouth twitched. “She is my mate.”

“Of course, warrior.” The woman bowed again, this time toward Mary. When she lifted her face, she smiled warmly. “Mistress, it is my pleasure to serve you as well.”

Fine, good, Mary thought. Then how about dragging your skinny ass out of here and making sure your replacement is an ugly, two-toothed gorgon in a muumuu.

“Where would you like me?” Layla asked.

Rhage glanced around the room before focusing on the luxurious canopy bed. “There.”

Mary hid her wince. Oh, that was so not her first choice.

Layla went over as told, that silky dress