I wasn't all that eager to drive home in the dark, strong, capable Boyd Furry that I was and all that. I was not, however, going to admit that to a living soul. Yet I nearly embarrassed myself and started crying when I saw Mark standing there by his car, waiting for me.
Holy Batwoman, was I grateful to see him.
"Have you come to escort me home?" I asked as I reached him.
“I have,” he said.
His scratches were fading. I reached up and touched one gently.
“What did your co-workers think about your new macho image?”
"I told them I went paint balling.”
I couldn't help but smile. That was actually a great excuse. Who cared if he got a few thousand scratches from the bushes? He sounded macho and adventurous. Plus, it beat the hell out of telling them he was fighting a wolf. Humans would freak out at that comment.
Honesty could sometimes be selective.
"I'm glad you're here," I said, determined to continue with the truth.
"I'll follow you.”
And he did, his headlights a reminder that I wasn't alone. Plus it was a another reminder, that I had a confrontation brewing if I wanted it. Had he really moved in? What explanation had he given Danielle? What was I going to do about him?
Seriously, what was our relationship?
Once home, I greeted the Brood, doled out pets and praise – I'd fed them before I left for the Council meeting — and took off my shoes.
I made tea, with Mark sitting at the table drinking a beer.
“Have you moved in, then?”
He nodded. “There's not much to move," he said.
“So what does Danielle have to say?”
"I haven't told her," he said.
“Won’t she expect you home?”
“Not since I made other arrangements for Cassie.”
I nodded, but kept my thoughts to myself. And my questions.
I made us both some quesadillas with ice cream as dessert. I normally didn't eat this late, but I was genuinely hungry. Plus food served as a way to communicate without saying anything difficult or intimate or painful. We talked about Mexican restaurants, cooking, and favorite flavors of ice cream. We found that we had a great deal in common other than being the only two Weres in creation who were also Pranic.
Mark told me about some of his co-workers. Sue, who was into genealogy and couldn't meet a stranger without inquiring where their family came from. Robert, who was well on his way to becoming a germaphobe. He carried around a bottle of hand cleaner and used it if someone got too close, never mind wanting to shake hands.
“I don’t think it’s working,” Mark said. "I've never known anybody who's had more colds than Robert. I think he'd be better off allowing his immunity to build up.”
I told him about some of the vet techs at work, most of whom I really liked. That was another thing about leaving the clinic. I missed most of the people with whom I worked.
After we finished eating and I straightened up the kitchen, I debated going into the TV room, having a nightcap on the porch, or simply going to bed. I was tired and it was late enough, but there was that uncertainty I had to face.
Where was Mark going to sleep?
“I think I’ll turn in,” he said, standing.
I nodded.
“Goodnight, Torrance.”
I’m not sure it was relief I felt or simply an end to the tension.
I said goodnight and watched as he walked up the back stairs.
A few minutes later, after the Brood had gone out for the night, I entered my suite. I kept the door open just like I had the night before.
Sitting on the edge the bed, I recited the hearing spell. It kept me from lying awake listening to the sounds of Graystone around me. Without the spell I could hear a bird landing on one of the chimneys or the rush of the wind around the bell towers.
"What are you saying?"
I halted in the middle of the spell and glanced over at the open doorway. Mark was standing there, between the sitting room and the bedroom, leaning against the door jamb. He was still fully dressed, arms folded in front of him.
He had fought a very strong wolf less than forty eight hours ago, was involved in a quest, one of moral consequence. He was concerned about his daughter, and trying to juggle the needs of his clan against his own wants and wishes. I knew all this about him and even more, but that's not why I wanted to comfort him. It was something deeper than that. Not male-female stuff, but creature to creature stuff. I wanted to take away his pain, hold him, and be strong enough to allow him to feel vulnerable, if only for a few moments.
Okay, maybe it was male-female stuff.
"Have I interrupted your prayers?”
I shook my head and held out my hand to him.
"No," I said as he walked toward me. “I’m saying a spell Marcie gave me.”
At that moment I realized that I hadn't told him about my super hearing. I did now, adding that the spell helped.
“And you’ve only had this problem after the second transfusion?” he asked. “Any other side effects?”
“No,” I said, feeling a warmth when he grabbed my hand and sat on the edge of the bed with me. I decided to jump in with the question. “Marcie says that vampires have the ability to mesmerize and that you’ve always known that. Have you mesmerized me, Mark?”
He smiled. "If I had, Torrance, it would've made things a lot easier between us.”
Maybe he was right about that. But I’d certainly capitulated easily enough when he told me he was going to move in. It hadn’t even been a question. He had merely declared it and I had said okay.
"I can hear your thoughts," he said. “When we’re close enough.”
I knew that. Had he been doing it lately?
“No,” he said. "I figured we should do this the old-fashioned way.”
Xena, the Warrior Princess or Wonder Woman would've asked him what he meant. I was too scared.
He smiled, but didn't send me a thought.
Finally, disgusted by my own cowardice, I asked, “What do you mean by this?”
"This love affair," he said bringing my hand to his lips. He kissed my knuckles, then released my hand, standing. “Isn't that what it is?”
Was it? Frankly, I was so confused around him and about him that I didn't know which way was up. It was scary and exciting and delightful and scary and exhilarating.
He bent and kissed me softly on the lips. It was a gentle, sweet kiss that seduced and lingered and lured.
I was about to tell him that he didn't have to go back to the George Gervin room. He shook his head as if he'd heard that thought and walked away, leaving me staring after him.
Well, damn.