“Oven mitts…” Rowan chuckled as I lifted the lid. Thankfully, he had enough strength to climb inside.
I was a bit surprised by the interior, if I was being honest. Instead of being decked out like an actual burial tool, it was a lot like a bed. I spotted one of those therapeutic memory foam pillows at the top, and the sheets were a soft, high-blend cotton, judging from how they felt under my fingertips. And then I noticed a panel on the lid with several buttons.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing, as I forgot that Rowan really needed to sleep as soon as possible. Fortunately, I didn’t so much as slow him down as he settled, looking quite comfortable under his blankets with his arms crossed over his wounded chest.
“Oh, those are my controls.”
“Controls?”
“Yeah, I can pump a cool breeze through here, or heat the coffin, and play certain white noises.” He pressed a button, and I heard an ominous echo with an occasional screech. “That’s the interior of a cave system. And oh, here’s a funeral procession from six feet overhead.” He pressed another button, and yeah, I’d say that was exactly what played. “And then this is just someone slowly digging in dirt.”
I supposed that made sense as sounds a slumbering vampire would find soothing.
“And what’s this?” I asked, pointing to the last one in the row.
“Ah. That’s Susan Boyle’s entire discography, starting with her initial audition on Britain’s Got Talent.”
I shot him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding.”
“I would never k-kid about Susan Boyle. She has the closest thing to the voice of an angel that the damned c-can actually hear.”
Double-blink at that. Apparently, my boyfriend’s gift for poetry and saying incredibly deep things extended to when he was half-conscious and in sun-shock.
“Goodnight, Rowan,” I said, kissing his cheek.
“Goodnight, Naomi. And… thank you for coming for me.”
My heart ached at that even as fondness rushed to fill me. “Anytime, my dear. You never have to be alone again. I’m always gonna be here for you.”
“I…thank you.”
I brushed my lips against his. As happy as I was to see him, to protect him, I was still burning with rage that no one from his coven was willing to help him. How dare they? It made me want to do something special for him. Something that would make him forget that no thrall, assistant, or anyone would pick up his call.
“Hey, this weekend, would you like to come over to my place for dinner? I’d love to cook for you.”
He was already half asleep, but he managed to look pleasantly surprised and sent mesucha sappy look, I actually blushed. “I’d love to.”
“It’s a date.”
He gave me a weak smile, his eyes sliding closed and his breathing stopping entirely. Normally I would panic at that,but I’d read that was a completely normal part of the vampiric sleeping cycle. It was a little disconcerting, though.
Touched that he trusted me with something so vulnerable, so intimate as where he was interred whenever he was hurt or needed a deep rest, I gently closed the lid, then settled down on the ground behind it, leaning against the side.
Well, time to start searching for traditional dishes from where Rowan grew up, because I was serious about going absolutely nowhere until I was sure Rowan was safe.
Oh, and I definitely needed to say hi to Brahm. I had no doubt he was stressed after everything that had happened, and I liked to think that the orange guy and I had a bit of an understanding with each other.
After all, we both cared very deeply for the same guy.
FIFTEEN
ROWAN
Bad Diet
“Yes, I’m going out again, but I made sure to give you extra dry food in your feeder, so you will be fine,” I said as Brahm wound between my feet, trilling in that way that signaled he wanted to be picked up.
“Look, I love you. I picked you up three times since I’ve gotten dressed and held you for a minimum of ten minutes each time, and I really don’t want to lint roller myself again. I’m sure you understand, right? Man to man, you wouldn’t be trying to sabotage my date, would you?”
