Silent Cravings (35 page)

Analie knocked before letting herself into Sebastian’s apartment. The door to Ashi and Christoph’s room was open. The shower was going. She pilfered a blue shirt and black slacks that looked like they’d fit Freddy and hurried back downstairs.

“Now, now, no need tae get testy.” The blonde curled her lip and sniffed. She returned her attention to Ashi, curious. “What are you doing ʼere, then? Been bit, so somebody round ʼere must want you. Someone lay a claim, then?”

“No one’s—”

Ashi shut his mouth. Oh, stupid. Stupid, stupid,
stupid
. He cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say to answer the lady’s question and not announce that he had yet to be claimed. This was like a lamb announcing to a pack of wolves, “Yeah, if I try to run all my legs dislocate.”

When did he stop thinking of himself as a wolf?

“Ah. That’s right, knew I heard some wanker going off about new blood in the house. John, was it?”

“John and Ken haven’t shut up about it,” Clarisse muttered, her gaze shifting off the TV to focus on Ashi again at the change in his pulse at the mention of John’s name.

“So what are ye doing here?”

Wes had gone back to his room after dropping John in his own bed. He’d seen how Mouse looked when she fled past. She was undoubtedly mentally beating herself into knots over something or other.

It certainly wasn’t John. Mouse had often looked like she longed to tear his head off and introduce it to his ass. Maybe that’s why she’d gotten so violent.

That jogged something. She’d been abused. Tortured by Max. She always had a thing for championing the helpless, the hurt, the sick—anyone who couldn’t help themselves. She also had a difficult time coming to grips with what she was, and was often reluctant to take on new donors without agonizing for months over the process. She couldn’t handle rejection to save her life, which, considering her nature, was truly a pity.

So what had happened? She’d gone haywire right in front of Christoph. Who’d already been terrorized by John.

Which meant Christoph had probably flipped out when Mouse tried to help him.

No wonder she was upset. Rubbing a hand over his face after that brilliant leap of deductive reasoning, Wes cursed under his breath and heaved himself to his feet.

In a few minutes, he was back upstairs, and pounding on the door to the bathroom. “Christoph, it’s Wesley. I need to talk to you.”

Ashi rubbed his neck. “John wanted to bite me. Again. I think. He got distracted, so I, uh... looked for a place to... hang out. For a while.”

I got scared and wanted to hide.

Christoph was nowhere near ready to stop boiling himself alive, but he turned off the water, toweled himself dry, and was back in his pants and shirt in a few minutes. Being an on-call warrior for Goliath made you figure out how to get ready fast.

He opened the bathroom door and stepped out, eyeing Wesley cautiously. “Hi?”

Wesley didn’t bother with the niceties.

“Did you freak out on Mouse after she saved your ass?” He gestured in the direction of the hall, anger and concern trickling into his voice and already stiff posture. “You may not have noticed, but she’s not exactly all right in the head. She can’t talk because some asshole tortured her every day for years. Max tried making her into an obedient little monster, and it messes with her head every time somebody does something to validate that image. If you flinch from her or act afraid, it makes everything Max told her about herself right. That she’s just like that twisted piece of shit. If you did, I can’t say I’d blame you. I probably would’ve pissed myself in your shoes. Maybe you didn’t. You’re braver than I am, if that’s the case.”

He started toward the door, still taut with suppressed anger. He paused just long enough to offer a few last words of wisdom before leaving. “But if you did, you should think long and hard on just what that might have meant to her. She took on John to keep you safe. Don’t repay her by being a callous prick.”

Lisa laughed.

“Leave him alone,” Clarisse said.

“Aye, he is a right piece of work,” Lisa said, shaking her head, still laughing. She gestured to Ashi to get up, heading over to one of the chairs and settling into it. “John’s a bit of a prig, no doubt. Low blow, biting but not claiming.”

Ashi came out of the corner, balanced slightly forward on the balls of his feet, ready to bolt if need be.

“I’m not really sure how this ‘claiming’ thing works. I don’t like getting bitten, but I don’t even how to go about getting ‘claimed’ so John doesn’t bite me anymore.”

“Easy enough,” Lisa said, her cherry lips curving in a sly smile. “If someone wants you, they’ll seal the deal with a bite. It leaves a little something behind. We can… I don’t know. Smell it. Feel it, once someone’s been bit. It’s rude to nip someone else’s property, so we leave off.”

“There’s a connection between the donor and the host, so most everyone will leave ye alone. Except your host, o’ course,” Clarisse said, tucking her sock-covered feet under her as she twisted on the couch to a more comfortable position to watch Ashi.

“Right. Tough bit o’ luck, not liking being bit.”

Ashi rubbed his neck. “Well, I mean, it felt good to be bitten, but I don’t
like
being bitten. It’s supposed to hurt. That’s what I was told, anyway.”

Lisa laughed again. “Who told you that nonsense? We’d never get laid if it hurt.”

Clarissa shot her a look. Ashi just frowned. “The deputy of my pack told me that. I’m a Were. This is the first time I’ve had to deal with vampires.”

Lisa arched a brow, at a loss for words.

Clarisse, still not feeling particularly warm toward the Were after his harsh words from a few days before, glowered at Ashi. “What are you doing here, then? Why not go back tae your pack?”

Ashi worded his response carefully. “I’m paying off a debt along with a packmate. Otherwise I
would
be home with my pack.”

Lisa nodded. Clarisse didn’t look convinced.

Christoph scrubbed his hand through his wet hair and paced. This was unlike anything he’d ever encountered in Goliath. If you had problems, you dealt with them quietly. You didn’t whine or flinch or run away. You pushed through it, and with a few good friends, you made it out the other side.

He frowned. He had to apologize. He should also get with Analie and have her outline what the hell the standards of behavior were here. Sighing, he headed out of the apartment.

Christoph was not particularly eager to face something that made him, a creature of the night, afraid of dark corners. He shuffled down the hall, dragging his feet, and entered Mouse’s apartment.

Analie and Freddy were on the couch. Freddy was well-dressed for once, which surprised Christoph, who had only seen him in band T-shirts and baggy jeans. They had a photo album open between them. Christoph came closer to investigate.

It looked like a Goliath barbeque from a year ago. Oh, God. There he was with that crew cut he’d had back then. Analie was resting her fingers on a picture of her riding piggyback on Gavin.

“Hey,” Analie said, looking up.

“Hey,” Christoph answered. He nodded to Freddy, who was staring at him with a weird expression. “Where’s Mouse?”

“In her room,” Analie said.

Christoph looked toward Mouse’s door. “You mind hanging out in your room for a bit?”

“Nah.” She picked up the photo album, and she and Freddy went to her room, shutting the door.

Christoph walked over to Mouse’s door and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to knock because he sure as hell didn’t want to go in.

“Hey, uh, Mouse? It’s Christoph. I just wanted to say thank you. For saving me. I was really freaking out about John being all ‘argh, gonna eat you’ and then you busted in there like Wonder Woman and totally creamed him, which was actually really cool....” Christoph scrubbed his hair. “Anyway, I’m really sorry I... did what I did. I’m trying to get used to this place. I was a total douche, ʼcause that’s not cool when you were obviously saving my ass. So—I’m sorry and I hope you don’t totally hate me now.”

Analie and Freddy were smashed against the bedroom door, listening to Christoph.

“He’s getting better at talking to girls,” Analie whispered.

“This is better?” Freddy muttered.

Mouse had scrubbed John’s blood off her hands, then slumped down on the bathroom floor, curled up against the tub and watching dully as a few pink-tinged tears stained the porcelain. More evidence of the monster she was, and always would be.