“It was pretty badass,” I admit.
“Darlin’, I have no fucking doubt.”
I kiss him again, reveling in the feel of him, knowing how close I came to losing him, knowing how close he came to losing himself.
“So, now what?” I ask, looking around. “The Super B is totaled.”
“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “Makes that crack in the windshield seem like nothing, doesn’t it?”
“So where do we go?” I look around. “I don’t think we’re in a great neighborhood. I haven’t seen a single person come out of their house to see if we’re okay.”
“That’s probably for the best. I guess we’ll just call an Uber.”
“They’ll come and get us here? With your sword?
“It’s New Orleans, sweetheart.”
“And then what?”
“I reckon we get to another hotel, then figure shit out.”
“But the car…”
“We had a good run,” he says. “But in the end, it’s just a car.”
I nod. I like this car a hell of a lot. It protected us to the end. But I guess it’s a material thing in the long run.
“Do you want to try and get up?” I ask him.
I step out of the car, back on the curb, trying to avoid the broken glass on my feet. I reach in and grab him by the elbows, helping him to his feet.
I stare up at him, holding onto his hand, still breathless at the fact that he’s here. “Do you hurt anywhere?”
He moves his head back and forth, stretching his neck. “Nah. I’m fine. I guess I’m immortal again.” He glances down at me. “You’re in worse shape than I am. We should take you to the hospital.”
I look down at myself. A horrific mess would be a mild way of putting it.
“You know what? I think I’ll be just fine.”
“Ada…”
“Max.” I give him a pointed look in return. “I’ll heal. Let’s just get out of here and find a place to crash. I think I could sleep for several days.” I lean into the car, looking around for my phone to call the Uber, hoping it wasn’t thrown and broken. I find it at the foot of the passenger seat.
Still working.
Some texts and a missed call from Perry, wondering if I’m okay. Says she had a premonition that I was hurt.
I text her back, knowing it’s earlier there.
I’m fine. We’re fine. I have a lot to tell you. Just hang on for now. I love you. Tell Dex I love him too.
I press send. That last part is probably going to get her super freaked out. I’m anything but sentimental.
“Everything okay?” Max asks.
“Yeah. Perry knows something happened just now. Felt it, I guess. Just trying to defuse that bomb.”
“Ah,” he says, running his hand through his hair, shaking out glass. “She’s going to fucking flip her lid when she finds out about us. Not to mention Dex.” He pauses. “I better have my sword on hand.”
“One thing at a time, big guy,” I tell him. I’m not ready for that conversation yet.
My phone immediately starts pinging.
Yup.
She’s freaking out.
And for once, I appreciate it.
I think I appreciate everything.
Twenty
“I want something good to die for, to make it beautiful to live.”
– Go With the Flow
“Good news,” Max says, hanging up the phone as I step out of the washroom, towelling off my hair. “The hotel will ship us the bag later today.”
“Oh, sweet,” I tell him, leaning against the wall, taking him in. He’s wearing just his boxer briefs, red this time, and a fitted white t-shirt that has a tear on the shoulder. Yeah, the guy needs new clothes ASAP. We both do after this trip.
But he looks fantastic. Somehow better than ever. His eyes are bright, hair vibrant, wonderful, body like a sculpted God. We barely slept last night, so I hardly think it’s fair.
Plus, he died.
Again.
Meanwhile I look like I’ve been flung twenty feet out of a car, because guess what, I was! That, plus no sleep because I’ve had a lot of injuries to attend to, including picking broken glass out of my feet all night, and yeah, who knows why he’s eyeing me like I’m something he wants to eat.
Not that I’m complaining. He can gaze at me like that all day, every day. There’s something to be said about being the one that makes him stop and stare, after being around for centuries and centuries. Possibly even longer than that.
My Viking.
I’ve decided that’s what he is.
Especially since his sword is called Mew Mew, or however you pronounce it.
He walks over to me, putting his hand at my cheek. “How do you feel after the shower? Any better?”
I nod. “The drugs have kicked in.”
Turns out I had some Vicodin left, which is very much coming in handy.
“Good. So are mine.”
I gasp, hitting him across his chest. “You took my drugs?”
He shrugs. “Hey, I hurt too.”
“Oh yeah? Where?”
“My shoulder,” he says with a wince, moving it back and around.
“Your shoulder has an owie? After all of that? Give me a break. Look at me.”
I step back and gesture to myself. I’m wearing just a t-shirt and my underwear, my road rash on display. All the cuts, gashes and injuries from the demon fighting are in the midst of healing, and I’m sure by tomorrow they’ll be gone. But the road rash is something else. It’s all up my shins, knees, elbows, forearms. My hands are pretty raw too, but luckily they aren’t too bad because I’ve got a man in front of me that I really want to touch. Parts of him specifically.
He scrunches up his face. “It could be worse. Come on. Let me nurse you back to health.”
He puts his hand at the small of my back and guides me to the end of the bed, sitting me down on it while he brings out the first aid
