He gives me a crooked smile. “What do you think we do when you sleep?”
“Oh, right. And yeah, a shower sounds great.”
His eyes slide over my body, then he disappears up the stairs.
“They tasted her blood.” Hasan’s deep voice rattles through the small room. The look on Jacques’s and Thomas’s faces says it all.
“They’re going to come for you,” Thomas says, sullen.
“I know.” I sit up, eyeing the three men in front of me. “And this time, I’ll be ready.”
17
“You said you’d be ready the next time you saw the vampires, and clearly you weren’t,” Jacques reminds me.
“I know.” I don’t argue. There’s no point when he’s right. “And if the vamp hadn’t been dragging that girl back with him, I wouldn’t have gone after him. But I couldn’t stand back and do nothing when someone was in danger.”
“This is serious, Ace.Youare in danger.”
“Trust me, I know. But they won’t come out during the day. I’ll be safe at work. Plus, I’m a cop, after all. I know how to handle myself. And, yes,” I add, holding up a hand, “I know they aren’t human and are stronger, faster, and have the whole undead thing going for them, but I’m going to steal some holy water from a church tomorrow and soak wooden stakes in it. Stakes that I still have to make.” I shake my head. “My point is, they’re only a threat at night. You guys are awake at night.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I realize just how much I need the gargoyles, and how I just admitted it to them. Though I suppose it’s not like they couldn’t have figured it out.
I am human.
I have limitations.
But I also have magic, and it will take time to get the hang of it.
“We will keep you safe,” Hasan vows, and knowing he’d do anything to protect me sends a rush right through me. “Starting with rest. You need to sleep. It’s late, and you get up not long after dawn, correct?”
“Right.”
“I will stand guard.” Jacques stands and my eyes travel down the strip of hair below his navel, in the middle of the sharp V his muscles make over his hips, to the scar on his side, the one that disappears down into his pants.
“Is there any food left?” I ask.
“No.”
“Dammit.”
Jacques’s face softens and I can tell he feels bad. “I’d offer to get you something but I don’t know how your currency works.”
I smile. “That’s the least of your problems. I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow. We have these things called supermarkets here where all your eating needs can more or less be met in one place. You can get bread, milk, meat, wine…all that fun stuff in one place.”
“I was born in the wrong century,” Thomas says under his breath, and I laugh. He probably would have done well in this century. Life tends to be easier when you’re good-looking and born into a rich family. Throw in having a twin and he and Gilbert could be Insta-famous or something.
I stretch my arms over my head and yawn. A dull headache pounds, spurring me to finally get up off the couch. I take my purse—the basically empty one I carried tonight—and put my badge, gun, and wallet into my regular bag. I don’t know why I like to carry such a large bag. Maybe it’s the part of me that likes to always be prepared? I dig through it until I find a bottle of Advil and go into the kitchen to down the pills with a glass of water.
I can hear the shower running overhead, and just the thought of warm water soothes my sore muscles. The front door opens and shuts and the downstairs falls silent. I fill up my cup once more, forcing myself to drink another glass of water, then go up the back stairs and into the master bedroom.
Steam billows from the open bathroom door, and Gilbert stands next to the shower, holding his hand under the water. I remember his touch from earlier when he almost kissed me. Funny how that seems like so long ago when, really, it was just hours.
“How long does it stay warm?” he asks.
“Probably not too long in this old house. The water at my apartment stays warm forever.” The bathroom looks like it was updated sometime in the ’80s, based on the black and white tile pattern in the shower. While the decor is awful by today’s standards, whoever renovated it knew luxury. The shower is large and tiled, with a bench, a glass door, and two shower nozzles overhead, creating a wonderful cross-stream of hot water.
“It must feel nice.” Gilbert shuffles closer to the shower. “The water all over your body.” A few drops spatter onto his chest, slowly rolling down the ridges of muscle.
