“You’re hungry.” He grunts and I wish I had the energy to roll my eyes. It’ll probably make me nauseous or something, though, and make me vomit—something I desperately love to avoid.
“So are you, Fangy McGee.” I sigh, raising an eyebrow and tipping my chin at his face. He ignores my point and looks around the room.
“You need food. And tea. I’ll get it now.” And then he stomps off like an angry bear.
Okay. So apparently, he’s not great first thing in the evening. Or maybe it’s from spending the day in a cupboard. Considering he was always a grumpy shit in the mornings when he slept at our house, it really could be that he still hates waking up. Either way, I file the information in my little mental file labelled ‘Nikolo Things’ and settle back in the bed. It’s rare for me to be taken care of like this, and I’m going to make the most of it.
That it’sNikolotaking care of me is as surreal as it’s not. After all the time that we’ve spent together recently it feels perfectly natural, but there is still a part of me that’s struggling to put all the different Nikolo’s I’ve known and fantasised about into the very real man in my life now. Each day it’s getting easier. Each day it’s becoming more real. And each day, the realities of what that might mean become more real, too, and sometimes that’s more scary than I want to admit.
He comes back with a bowl of soup, a large mug filled with something that smells familiar and so perfect my stomach growls loudly again, and a bottle of blood for himself.
“Is that—” I’m about to ask if it really is his mum’s tea, when I realise what he’s carrying everything on. “Is that my baking tray?”
Embarrassed, he dips his head, so his messy curls cover his face before looking up with a defiant smile. “It’s all I could find, okay?”
A laugh slips out, earning me a look as he carefully lays the baking tray on my lap.
“Thank you.” I say, when he fusses over everything to make sure that nothing will spill. He doesn’t look at me, just licks his lips, giving me a quick glimpse of his bloodied fang. Obviously he’s had some blood while getting everything ready. It’s why he doesn’t look as peakish now. I capture his wrist in my weak grasp to make him look at me. “Seriously, I appreciate this. A lot.”
He rolls his lips over his teeth, but he can’t hide his smile.
“It’s nothing.” He shakes off the praise, then nods at the bed. “Scoot over.”
Not that I really can, which is why he rounds the bed to the other side and climbs on carefully until he’s lying on his side next to me, head propped up on one hand, the other carefully cradling his half-empty blood. It’s times like this I’m reallygrateful for my penchant for decorating with black. There’s less chance of stains.
I nod at his—or rathermy—pyjama pants, currently straining over his thick thighs. Lucky pants. “Always trying to get in my pants aren’t you?”
“Don’t you know it.” Nikolo smiles cheekily at me, even throwing in a little wink, but there is a hint of self consciousness. He’s trying to betoocasual about it. Which is probably why he rushes to explain. “I came straight from work. I was a bit gross, so I needed to borrow something. And I used your shower, too.”
I get it. This—him being here, taking care of me—it’s new unchartered territory in this new relationship we’re exploring. It really should feel like a big step, or at least bigger than it does. Really, it just feels… right.
“Seriously, it’s fine.” Smiling, I lay a hand on his and make sure to look him in the eye. “Now, is this your mum's tea?”
Nikolo grins cheekily. “Sure is. You had some last night, too.”
“Gods.” I groan, my voice starting to fade. “I thought I dreamt that.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for, Willanator. To make your dreams come true.” Thank the Gods he doesn’t know how true that is. Or maybe he does, and he means it. “Do you need me to feed you?”
I really, really don’t, but I’m not about to let this opportunity pass. I smile softly at him, letting my weight fall back into the pillows. “Would you?” I weakly lift my arms. “My arms aresotired.”
That may have been overplaying my hand, but Nikolo snickers good naturedly and plays along, spoon feeding me the dumpling soup he apparently made himself and helping me drink the tea until I’m full and feeling kind of sick again—though still a lot better.
“Enough!” I cry out playfully. “I can’t take anymore.” Nikolo coaxes me into one more bite before he takes the tray away.
“So, what do you need?” He asks, coming straight back to my side.
“You don’t have to help me, you know.”But I’m really enjoying the attentionI add to myself.
“Yeah,” he shrugs like it’s nothing, “but Iwantto.”
Well, go ahead and bury me now. I must be dead. My heart squeezes painfully and if my eyes begin to water, it’s only because my sinuses are so inflamed they’re pushing on my tear ducts.
“Did you want to have a shower?” He hovers like a hummingbird by the side of the bed, fussing at the blankets like he needs to keep moving, doing whatever he can to make me better.
Through watery eyes, I glare at him playfully. “You’re just trying to get me naked aren’t you?” I try to sniff derisively, but regret it because my nose is blocked. “Dirty perv.”
Smiling broadly, Nikolo winks, patting my thigh and giving it a squeeze. “Only for you.”
