Lover Mine

doing.

In a silent shift, John swung the forty’s muzzle around to the shuttered windows, and then he swept it over to the walk- in closet. As he finally lowered his weapon, he whistled an inquiry.

“I’m... okay,” she answered, finding her voice. “Just a bad—”

The knock that cut her off was about as subtle as a curse in a quiet room. Or the scream she’d just let rip.

As she pulled the sheets up to her collarbones, John opened the door a crack and Z’s voice drifted in. “Everything all right in here?”

Nope. Not even close.

Xhex rubbed her face and tried to replug into reality. Tough assignment. Her body felt weightless and disconnected, and man, that floaty thing was so not helping her on the get-grounded front.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why her subconscious had burped up that shit about her first trip through the abduction park. Staying in the OR while John had had his lead-ectomy had obviously been like a hot, spicy meal for her brain, with the nightmare being the cranial version of acid reflux.

Christ, she had a case of the fop sweats, her upper lip beading, her palms wringing damp.

In desperation, she focused on what she could see through the partially open door to the bathroom.

Turned out the toothbrushes on the marble counter saved her. The pair were standing up in the silver cup between the two sinks, looking like a couple of kibitzers who’d tilted their heads together to swap gossip. Both were John’s, she was guessing, because guests were on the whole not welcome in this house.

One was blue. The other red. Both had the green bristles in the center that turned white over time to let you know when to get new ones.

Nice. Normal. Boring. Maybe if she’d had a little more of all that she wouldn’t be looking for life’s exit door. Or having nightmares that turned her voice box into a bullhorn.

John bade Z good-bye and came back over to her, leaving his gun on the bedside table and slipping under the covers. His warm body was solid and smooth against hers, and she went to him with an ease that she guessed was common among lovers.

But something she’d never had with anyone before.

As he pulled his head back so she could see his face, he mouthed, What was it?

“Dream. Very bad dream. From back when...” She took a deep breath. “When I was in that clinic.”

He didn’t press her for details. Instead, she just felt her hair getting stroked.

In the silence that followed, she didn’t intend to talk about the past—especially when the last thing she needed was more echoes of the nightmare. But somehow, words formed in her throat and she couldn’t hold them back.

“I burned the facility down.” Her heart thumped as she remembered, but at least the recall of what had happened wasn’t as bad as being back there in a dream. “It’s weird... I’m not sure the humans thought they were doing anything wrong—they treated me like a prized zoo animal, giving me everything I needed to survive while they poked and prodded at me and ran test after test... Well, most of the humans were good to me. There was a sadistic fuck in the group.” She shook her head. “They kept me for about a month or two and tried to give me human blood to keep me going, but they could read the clinical indicators that I was getting weaker and weaker. I got free because one of them set me loose.”

John rolled over on his back and put his hands into the shaft of light. Shit, I’m so sorry. But I’m glad you dusted the place.

In her mind, she pictured her return trip to where she’d been held—and the sooty aftermath. “Yeah, I had to burn the thing down. I’d been free for a while when I went back and did it—but I couldn’t sleep for the nightmares. I lit the facility up after they’d left for the day. Although,” she held a forefinger up, “there might have been one rather nasty death. But the son of a bitch deserved it. I’m an eye-for-an-eye kind of girl.”

John’s hands reappeared to sign, That’s pretty obvious—and not a bad thing at all.

Provided it wasn’t Lash, she thought to herself.

“Mind if I ask you something?” When he shrugged, she whispered, “The night you took me around town... had you been back to any of those places before?”

Not really. John shook his head. I don’t like to dwell on the past. I go forward.

“How I envy you. Me, I can’t seem to get free of history.”

And it wasn’t just about the clinic shit or Lash’s little love-nest nightmare. For some reason, the fact that she’d never fit in—not with the family she’d grown up with, or the larger vampire society, or even the symphath one—resonated through her, defining her even when she wasn’t consciously thinking about it. Her lock-and-key moments had been few and far between—and tragically seemed focused on when she’d gone out on jobs as an assassin.

Except then she thought of her time with John... and recalibrated the depressing arithmetic slightly. Being with him, their bodies together, that fit. But it was kind of a parallel to her murdering for hire—ultimately not a healthy thing for all involved. Hell, look at what had just happened: She woke up screaming and John was the one who weaponed up and faced off... while she played poor widdle scared female with the sheet clutched to her widdle scared heart.

That wasn’t her. Just wasn’t.

And God, that she’d fallen so easily into the role of being protected... that frightened her even more than dreams that made her scream. If life had taught her one thing, it was that your best bet was to take care of your own biz. The last thing in the world she wanted was to chick out and rely on anyone—even somebody as honorable and worthy and kind as John.

Although... man, the sex was good. Seemed base and a little crude to put it like that, but it was so very true.

When they’d come up here after their little tête à tête in the tunnel, they hadn’t even bothered with the lights. No time, no time—clothes off, on the bed, going hard. She’d ended up passing out, and sometime later, John must have gotten up to use the loo and left the light on. Probably to make sure she didn’t feel lost if she woke up.

Because that’s the kind of male he was.

There was a click and whirl and the steel shutters began to lift for the night, the darkened sky revealed, her mental gyrations mercifully cut off.

She hated ruminating. Never solved anything and only made her feel worse.

“Hot water is calling us,” she said, forcing her body upright. The delicious aches in her muscles and bones made her want to sleep for days in this big bed next to John. Maybe weeks. But that wasn’t their destiny, was it.

She leaned over and looked down into his shadowy face. After tracing his handsome features with her eyes, she just had to bring up her hand and caress his cheek.

I love you, she mouthed in the shadows.

“Let’s go,” she said roughly.

The kiss she gave him was a sort of good-bye—after all, maybe tonight they finally got Lash, and that would mean an end to moments like this.

Abruptly, John gripped her upper arms, his brows tightening, but then, as if he read her mind and knew all too well the score, he released her.

As she got up and walked away from the bed, his eyes followed her... she could feel it.

In the bathroom, she started the water for them and went over to get some towels out of the cupboard.

She stopped as she saw her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

Her body was the same as it had always been, but she thought of the way it felt when she and John were together. She’d gotten so used to thinking of her corporeal form as little more than a weapon, something that was useful and necessary to accomplish things. Hell, she’d fed it and cared for it the same way she looked after her guns and her knives—because that was how she maintained its utility.

In their hours together, John had taught her differently, had shown her that there was profound pleasure to