My lips pinched. I shook my head again and marched straight toward him. “I don’t think so.”
Careful not to be in range of the lethal black horns that kept reappearing and disappearing, I squatted next to him and pulled his long, black hair back from his perspiring face and rubbed his back with my free hand, waiting whatever this was out with him.
I stated clearly, “I’m staying here with you, Bel. Take as long as you need.”
He gripped the toilet tighter, catching a glimpse of his hands as they turned red, but he couldn’t exactly argue…since he was puking again. Massive spasms of his body erupted again, his entire frame wracked with the motion. Every muscle on his well-honed body clenched so hard it had to be excruciating.
And past all that sickly smell filling the bathroom, I could scent the same sexual fluids on him that I had the night of the Blood Rite.
Ms. Olivia Francis.
He had done his duty.
I was pleased to know she would be dead tomorrow.
“Gwen…” he choked, still staring at his red hands.
“Nope. I’m not leaving you while you’re ill. Get over it.”
Frosty blue eyes lifted to mine, but he wisely kept his face pointed down toward the toilet. I didn’t mention he had some spittle hanging from his mouth. I didn’t think he’d appreciate that right now. His gaze searched mine, flicking back and forth between my eyes—finding no surprise there. His black brows furrowed in thought, even as his body flicked back to looking normal again.
Then he went back to puking.
The devil-lord reemerged, too.
Once he was sucking oxygen again, I murmured with much unconcern, “I like your horns.”
He spat into the toilet and flushed it, his brows furrowing as he stared down into the toilet water. He muttered roughly—and honestly, “I am so confused right now.”
I rubbed his back softly. “You know the necklace you gave me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that jewel showed me something when I first touched it. A little boy on a beach finding the gem. You. With red skin, horns, black nails, and an impish grin.” I kept rubbing his back. “I’ve known since that morning. I don’t understand it at all, but I’ve known.”
Bel started to curse…but began puking again.
He was on to the stomach acid now.
He should be done soon. I hoped.
I sighed and held his hair tighter for him. “That’s pretty much how I thought you’d react. I haven’t told anyone, and I don’t plan to. You have nothing to worry about from me.”
I removed my hand from his back and flushed the toilet for him this time when he started spitting. Then the dry heaves arrived. They were worse than the actual retching, his whole body trembling fiercely still wanting to vomit. I waited it out with him, flushing the toilet again.
He spit one last time before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Bel gradually sat back, his frame shuddering with the action. I released his hair, while he evaluated me from under hooded eyelids, his dark lashes hiding his thoughts from me.
Tense quiet ticked by. Slowly.
Neither one of us said anything.
I had only my imagination to afford me what he might be thinking, from the good to the bad. He didn’t give anything away.
Eventually, I couldn’t take the strain any longer.
I cleared my throat and pointed at his shower, thinking of anything to stop the silence. “Perhaps you’d like to clean up?”
Bel dipped his face toward his body, his eyes never leaving mine, and sniffed once. His face scrunched in revulsion. “Yes, a shower sounds good.”
