I put the album away. Dialled Dalziel.
“Edwin. What’s up?” The muffled thump of a heavy baseline suggested my sire was not at home.
“You’re busy, it’s okay.”
A door creaked and the thump lessened. “Speak, boy.”
I sprawled backwards on the bed and let the weight of his enthralled words seep into my bones. “It’s Trace,” I finally sighed.
44
JAMES
I wokeup to find Trace wide awake and gazing at me, propped up on one elbow. “It’s creepy to watch people sleep,” I rasped, but I couldn’t stop the grin that spread over my face.
“I can’t help it if seeing you in my bed makes me happy.”
“Soft in the head,” I muttered, but didn’t resist when he nuzzled into me and captured my face for a kiss, although I did yelp something about morning breath, which he ignored. By the time he released me, I’d pretty much forgotten my own name.
“So I’m awake now. Good morning.” I was breathless and so, so horny.
“D’you want tea?” Jeez, he was peppy this morning. Ah, he was probably overcompensating for Edwin having scarpered last night. I stretched and tried to surreptitiously rearrange my rock-hard dick within the confines of my boxers.
“Tea would be nice,” I admitted. I managed to use the bathroom while the kettle boiled and returned to the bedroom when Trace called out he’d bring it through.
“It’s strange being here in the morning like this,” I said, slurping at my drink even though it was far too hot. “Ow, shit.”
He removed the mug from my grasp. “Give it time to cool, crazy boy. Strange because Eddie’s not with us or…?” He fussed with the pillows, not meeting my eyes.
“Sit down, will you?” I groused. “He’ll be okay. He’s just having a wobble.” I wasn’t usually this confident, but somehow I knew it would be fine. It might take a day or two, but Edwin wasn’t about to blow this relationship sky high for the sake of what one of us had said a hundred years ago. Had Trace been a prize bastard back then? It appeared so. Was he still one? Absolutely not. Edwin would work through whatever had got him in a flap and come to the same conclusion I had, that Trace was a man we both loved and admired.
I toyed with the covers, then the pillows on my side of the bed, then the covers again. Trace eyed me. “Problem?”
I threw a pillow at him even as my usual flush threatened to sear a layer of skin off my cheeks. “Hard as nails.”
“Want some help to sort it out?” He sounded nervous. Then again, we were rarely alone without Edwin at times like this.
Unhelpfully, my brain chose that moment to skitter right back to my time as Cormack’s captive. I froze. “Uhhh…”
What did Dalziel say?It took everything I had to redirect my thoughts back to something that could help me.Think, don’t panic. What is actually happening? Is your response rational?
Trace was no threat. He loved me. If I walked away now and never allowed him to so much as touch me again, he would respect my boundaries. Edwin would hear me if I shouted. Probably.
I stared at the blankets and pulled in a few deep breaths. “Just working through some anxiety,” I confessed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Can I do anything to help?”
“Hand on my lower back?” Trace had warm hands, the calluses from working outdoors with them a direct contrast to Cormack’s cold, smooth, malevolent paws.
The bedroom came back into focus and I leaned against Trace, my back to his front. “That’s better.” I glanced down. “My cock is such a slut. It’s still raring to go.”
“Maybe it knows better than whatever floods your system with panic. It knows you’re safe with me.” He began dotting slow kisses along my shoulder, across the back of my neck, then down the other side.
“You could be right. I’m just sick of freaking out.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve been doing amazingly. Recovering from trauma isn’t a linear thing. You’ll have good days, and better days, and days when you hide under the blankets and refuse to see anyone. Or leastways, that’s what I’m given to understand from the research I’ve done.”
I twisted to eye him. “You’ve researched?”
