“Looks like we should call an ambulance for Mr. Ram,” one cop said.
Theo raised his hand slightly. “Nope, I just need some shut-eye.”
The black cop handed over a thick square of gauze to press on his bloody forehead. “I’d drop by the emergency room if I were you. That was some set of stairs you fell down.”
“I’m okay,” Theo insisted, holding the pad firmly to his head.
By the light streaming out of the bar, I got my first good look at the man who had saved me. His strong-boned face and dark curling hair made him look Greek or Italian, with startling gray eyes fringed by black lashes. His hair would have been gorgeous if it was longer, flowing like the statues at the Met. He was a bit weather-beaten and worn beyond the events of the evening, as if he were used to working hard. I liked his steady gaze—as did the cops, clearly—and his frank way of speaking.
All I could think about was touching him again.
It was quite the surprise. It wasn’t just a desire to feed on him. I was attracted to him. I thought that part of me had dried up and blown away a long time ago.
When the cops kept insisting despite his refusals, I offered, “Come inside. My sister is an EMT. She’ll make sure you don’t need stitches on that cut.”
“Who’s your sister?” the black cop asked.
“Jamie Shoquille.”
“I know Shoquille,” the cop said. “Shorter than you, with platinum blond hair?”
I smiled and nodded brightly. “She’s here now.”
The cop rewarded me by urging Ram, “You should let her sister take a look. I don’t like releasing you when you’re still bleeding like that.”
Theo tried straightening up again, but something was clearly wrong with him. The gauze pad was getting redder. Faced with a long wait at the emergency room or a quick look-see upstairs, he had little choice.
“Sure, if that’s what it takes,” he agreed.
The cops gave me the police report with the case number on it, reminding me to come in tomorrow to see if my assailant’s records were in their files. Theo also got a report number for his stolen wallet.
Theo was limping as we headed into the bar. I held the door open, then shut and locked it behind him. Lolita had ushered everyone out, so there was nobody left but Boymeat. They were both out in the backyard spraying down the plastic honeycomb mats. All I could hear was Boymeat’s voice, probably bitching about some girl who had just broken up with him even though he already had another one waiting at home for him.
“Wait.” I left Theo leaning against a table near the door to my place. Running across the room, I slid behind the bar to fetch the enormous first aid kit that Shock had given me in case one of my patrons had an accident. Unty ing my black apron, I left it folded by the cash register for tomorrow.
Lo appeared in the doorway and saw Theo. “What’s he doing here?”
I gestured vaguely in his direction. “He’s hurt. I’m taking him upstairs so Shock can take care of him.”
Lo stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“You don’t trust him?” I wanted some alone time with this guy so bad that I almost didn’t care whether he
was
dangerous. That was one of the benefits of being possessed; no man could make me do anything I didn’t want to. I was too strong, and if worse came to worst, I could drain a man of his emotions until he could hardly move.
Lolita was clearly swayed by his heroics, but she hesitated. “Shock may not want to see a guy right now, not after what happened tonight.”
“Are you kidding?” I held up the big red case. “This is exactly what Shock needs to take her mind off things. Believe me, I know.”
But I wasn’t telling the whole truth, and Lo knew something was up. I gave her a quick, one-armed hug. “Don’t worry, Lo. It will do us both some good.”
I couldn’t tell my friend that this poor wounded man had exactly what I needed—he was in pain and I could comfort him. I longed to touch him, to take his suffering away and feel the deep peace that came when hurt and care were left behind. If I could feel that way even for an instant, then everything would be all right.
I was a junkie in need of my fix. I had almost killed and been killed today. I deserved this midnight snack, and I was going to take it. After all, I wasn’t going to hurt the guy. He would come out of it feeling great. I could sense what a man needed, and I gave it to him.
You want space; I can give you space. You want to be touched; I can touch you.
Most men were fairly simple that way. If you gave them exactly what they wanted, without their having to say a word, they fell in love with you. Not that I wanted anyone to fall in love with me; I just wanted to please this succulent man for a little while so I could get what I needed.
I’d gotten good at striking these kinds of bargains between my human and demon self. At least that was what I told myself—again and again.
“Okay, I’ll lock up when we leave,” Lo agreed. “If he does anything, you yell for me. We’ll stay for a while and have a beer.”
I normally would have heeded Lolita’s warning, but nothing was going to keep me from diving into these deep waters. She didn’t know that I couldn’t be hurt, not in the usual ways. “Thanks, Lo, I owe you one.”
But as I returned to Theo’s side, the sight of the reddened gauze now self-sticking to the wound on his forehead bothered me. His steady gaze was also a bit unnerving. I was taking advantage of him, no matter how much I gave back in return. I almost repented and ordered him to leave.
“I think I do need some help,” Theo said.
He was sagging, so I put his arm over my shoulder and held on to him around his waist. That did it. The manly smell of him was sublime, solid, and real. In one touch, I knew he felt vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Come on,” I murmured, unable to resist him. I was going to have this man, even if only a taste, before I let him go.
4
When I unlocked the door that led from the bar into my foyer, the first thing I saw was the narrow manila envelope lying on the cracked tile floor. Savor must have slipped it through the slot in the front door while he was here.
Shit. I forgot about that.
Well, that was what this guy was for: to make me forget about everything.
Seems to be working so far.
Steadying Theo with one hand, I swiped the envelope off the floor, tucking it into the back waistband of my jeans. He noticed, but didn’t say anything. I could have left it lying there, given the two industrial-grade steel doors on the ground floor protecting my apartment. But I wasn’t willing to take any risks with thousands of dollars. I didn’t know how much it was, and I didn’t care. I never liked being responsible for it.
As we turned to go up the stairs, Theo tried not to lean on me too hard, but he was hobbled by his hurt leg. Clutching the first aid kit in my other hand, I slowly went step by step. He grabbed on to the railing and helped pull us up. His cheek was nearly resting on my hair, and I thought he took a deep breath of it. We were snug against each other from hip to shoulder. He had the body of a working man in his prime, lean and hard under my hands. To my surprise, that spurt of all- too-human desire hit me again. It reminded me of things I had left behind. . . .
I opened the vaultlike upper door to my apartment and helped him inside. Theo gave the double steel door a surprised look.
“Some people seem to think I’m rich,” I explained. Kicking the door closed behind me, I shot the bolts with two quick turns of my wrist. “Shock? We have company.”
I helped him over to one of the vinyl chairs, and he leaned with a sigh against the generously curved back. Then I went to the archway that separated the two rooms. Shock was lying on the sofa, her eyes hooded.
I ran forward. “Shock! Are you all right?”
Shock muttered irritably, rolling away. For a second, I was afraid she was dying. But one touch revealed that she still had plenty of energy left after birthing Petrify. Shaking her gently, I tried to get a coherent word from her. But she appeared to be unconscious.
She was in the stupor that immediately followed fissioning. I had heard of the danger—another demon could steal your essence without a struggle while you were in a stupor and your shields were down.
Yet Shock trusted me enough to stay here. I patted her hand, slipping her a bit of my love.
“Is everything okay?” Theo called from the kitchen.
“It’s fine. Much better now.” I quickly stashed the thick envelope in the drawer of the table at the head of the sofa. It had code words written on the front. “My sister’s had a hard night.”
He appeared in the archway. “What happened?”
I didn’t want to lie to him. “She’ll be fine. She just needs to rest.” I rejoined him in the kitchen and firmly led him past the bathroom to the bedroom in the back.
A pillow was lying on the rug and the chaise was pulled into the middle of the room, where I had left it after letting Petrify out the window. I decided to pretend that was where everything belonged.
Guiding Theo toward the chaise, I righted the lamp that had been overturned on the small table and switched it on. An overstuffed chair sat in the corner between groaning bookshelves, and a daybed lined with pillows was against the far wall. The three windows had seats built in, with more bookcases underneath.
Theo winced as he sat down on the chaise. He pulled up one leg of his khaki pants, carefully feeling the tender area on his knee. “Not a scratch. Just strained it, I guess.” He groaned as he tried to flex it.
“Lie back.” I opened the kit on the low table and dug about, so eager to feed off this luscious man that I didn’t even feel guilty. That would come later, in its own due time.
I couldn’t help myself. When I was very low, it was impossible to resist the need to feed. I kept myself that way too much. Shock often complained about the feebleness of my aura. She once told me she wanted to shove a plump, angry guy at me and order, “Eat!”
But I had no choice. I was already too tempting for hungry demons. Look what happened when I revved up my reserves—Pique went for me in my own bar. If I stuffed myself, I’d start attracting demons from the Midwest instead of from just the eastern seaboard.
I pulled out a couple of wet wipes. “I need to clean the blood off your face to be sure that big cut is the only one.”
He reached out to take the wet wipes. “Here, let me.” He carefully cleaned all around the gauze patch on his forehead, then down to his cheeks and jaw, wiping up the blood.
I gently pushed him back until he relaxed on the cushions. The lamp cast a warm light as I leaned over him, examining his face minutely. From the stubble on his cheeks and chin, I guessed he had shaved yesterday morning.
“No other cuts.” I took his chin and tilted his face to the other side. I soaked up his weariness and took the edge off the throbbing purple pain. It was rich and juicy, making my mouth water.
Theo closed his eyes, implicitly giving me permission to touch him. I turned to the kit again. “I’ll have to take off that gauze to clean the cut.”
He opened his eyes. “It’s stopped bleeding; just leave it.”
“I have to clean it or it’ll get infected. And the scab will stick to the gauze.”
“I don’t want it to start bleeding again.”
“Stop being a baby. I have butterfly bandages. That’s what you should close it with or you’ll get a bad scar.” I pushed back his hair to examine the gauze. I felt his irritation, along with the deeper hues of pain. This guy wasn’t used to taking orders or lying around on a chaise. I could feel a driving energy that powered those deep emotions. “The cut goes into your hairline on the upper edge. I’ll try to do this gently.”
He gave in reluctantly. Using a cotton ball soaked in water, I wet the edges and slowly peeled back the gauze and cleaned the wound.
To keep him distracted, I asked, “What’s it like being a cabbie?”
His brows drew together at the question, then stopped at the tug of pain from his forehead. “About what you’d expect—dealing with traffic and too many people.”
“There aren’t many independent cabbies left in the city. Your father must be one of those genuine old-timers who’s seen it all.”
For the first time a ghost of a smile appeared. “You said it. I used to drive around with him after school, and I sometimes think
I
saw it all before I was twelve. But there’re always surprises.”
“So you grew up in the city?”
“Right here in this neighborhood. My parents moved to a house in Middle Village when my sisters were still in high school, but I kept the old apartment on Tenth Street. Pop still drives in the mornings, and I take the late shift. I was just coming home from dropping off the cab when I saw that guy attacking you.”
The J train that went into Queens was down several blocks on Delancey. “That’s a long walk.”
“I don’t mind. It’s better for the neighborhood.”
I silently agreed; if Alphabet City had easier access to subways, the poor people would have been displaced a long time ago. “Brace yourself for the peroxide,” I warned him.
I sucked in my breath in sympathy as the peroxide sizzled and stung his forehead. The twinges were lessening every time I touched him, as I absorbed his pain. To me, it was a feast.
When the cut was thoroughly cleaned, I dabbed it dry and applied several butterfly bandages to keep the edges together. He raised his hand to feel it, but I brushed him away. “Don’t get it dirty.”
I went to get a hand mirror and gave it to him. “Thanks,” he said as he looked at his forehead. There was a rounded purplish bump with a two-inch gash in the middle. It looked bad, but if he didn’t have a concussion, it should heal fine.
