Not that he needed one. He seemed to be doing just fine, proven by the way he leaned back in the recliner, dropping the game controller as he stared at the frozen image on the screen.
“Better now.” His voice was even and smooth, as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
She smiled, couldn’t help it. “Why’s that?”
Those lovely brown eyes shifted to her, raking over her from head to foot. “I think you know.”
Ever since Oliver’s seizure and his subsequent stay in the infirmary, Bijou had been spending more time with him. She wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or hers, though. According to Apollo, Oliver was fine. The doctor insisted on checking in with him every few hours, but aside from that, he hadn’t put any restrictions on him. As for Oliver, he was listening to her, taking a couple of nights off from work and resting.
Still, Bijou wished she knew what had caused that seizure. No one seemed to know. Or if they did, they weren’t sharing it. She suspected Apollo was hiding something, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
“Come sit with me?” Oliver requested.
Realizing she was still standing near the door, Bijou relaxed her shoulders and moved over to join him. She had intended to take a seat on the small love seat, but her direction shifted when Oliver held out his arm to block her.
“Here.” He moved over, opening some space for her to sit next to him.
Laughing, she glanced at the small space he was giving her. “I’m not sure my butt’s that small.”
He patted his thigh. “Then sit here.”
As much as she wanted to argue, to tell him they were moving too quickly, she knew that was merely a cop-out. An excuse because she was still worried about him, afraid she would do something that would trigger another seizure and the next time…
His hand curled around her wrist, pulling her toward him. Before he toppled her off balance, Bijou twisted, allowing him to pull her down into the chair with him. She was draped across his lap, her legs dangling over the armrest, her back partially against his chest, partially against the other armrest.
“Much better.” Oliver sighed, then tapped the button that had the chair reclining, forcing her to lean into him.
“What are you doing?” she asked when he lifted the game controller.
“Finishing my game. What does it look like?”
Smiling, Bijou stared up at him because she couldn’t see much else. His arms surrounded her, his attention on the television once again, and he seemed completely content for her to be sitting on his lap.
What the hell, she thought, letting her head rest against his shoulder.
Another sigh escaped him and she put her hand on his abdomen.
The sounds of the game did little to distract her from the steady thump of his heart near her ear. While he played, she let her thoughts drift to their previous conversations. No matter how hard she tried to relax, her brain kept coming back to one thing. That darkness she had sensed within Oliver. They’d never talked about it, though she had always intended to bring it up, to see if she could dig deep enough to figure out what it was he was hiding. Based on everything he’d shared with her during their time together, Bijou didn’t think he knew he was hiding something. Perhaps because of her heightened senses, she could practically hear it, a steady echo of something within him.
“What’s it like to feed?”
Bijou’s head jerked up as she tried to look in Oliver’s face. “What?”
The game controller settled on her thigh, his attention turning to her. “To feed. What’s it like?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “What does it … taste like?”
“I…” Bijou honestly didn’t know how to answer that. She’d never really thought about it before. Probably because it was a necessity, not something she did for fun. “Blood is blood, I guess.”
“So it tastes like copper?”
She frowned. “Copper? No. It’s … um…” Wow. How did she explain this? “I guess there’s a richness to it. And everyone’s tastes different.”
Oliver’s head shifted back so he could look directly in her eyes. “Would you feed from me?”
Bijou made a move to sit up, to get off his lap, but Oliver’s hand curled over her hip, holding her in place. He wasn’t rough, and if she tried, she would’ve easily broken his hold, but she stayed where she was because she sensed he was serious.
