Iced
Page 60
You want help killing him?
He sounds a little too eager. Like homicidal maniac eager. Dont need no stinking help, I say crossly. My eardrums hurt. I mean not that your help is stinking or anything. Your help is totally cool. I just want to do it myself.
Would you come out from under there, lass?
Would you, like, never yell again? Youre slaying me. I got superhearing. I poke my head out. Where am I? Im in a cloud of down pillows and comforters, in a high bed, in the corner of a huge room.
My place.
I look around. Cool digs. Hes holed up in a rehabbed industrial warehouse, one of those kinds with a giant living area that has no walls except for the ones you make with furniture and stuff. Theres lots of brick and wood floors and exposed heating ducts, tons of light spilling in tall windows and a massive flat-screen 3D TV in front of a ginormous comfy-looking couch. Theres a pool table and some old video game machines and an awesome bar, a kitchen with stainless steel appliances, and no racks or torture instruments visible anywhere. Its just the kind of place a college guy would die fortoo bad hes not one anymore, but hey, we all have the things we need to pretend. No scary-looking knife collections. No red, no black, their favorite colors. The place is totally not Unseelie prince.
A shaft of rosy light is shining on me and I look up. The bed is under a skylight, the suns setting and its got one of those new, strange Fae hues to it, brilliant orangey pink. I could sprawl in bed and watch the stars at night. I like it being pushed in the corner, giving me wall at my right and back, leaving only two sides to defend. Feels snug. Makes me think about rearranging some of my own rooms. Im fascinated by the way other folks live, and love to look in other peoples houses. Aw, man, you ever move out, Im moving in!
Like it, do you, lass? he says, and his voice sounds funny. Thick and weird.
I look down at him and jerk. Something on my face? Hes staring at me hard, eyes intense, and whats looking out of them doesnt look like it belongs in this place of brick and wood and sunshine at all. It belongs in the dark somewhere, with razor blades, about to do something real nasty.
No. Your face is lovely, lass. The sunset looks good on you. He reaches a hand out toward my face and I go real still.
Dude, youre scaring me.
He looks at me but its like hes not seeing me at all, so I sit there with his hand about an inch from my face and look back and think about wild animals. About how theyll attack if they smell fear, not that I feel it, but when youre staring at an Unseelie prince, even though you know he started out human, its kind of hard to predict what might happen next. This isnt a scenario I can lock down on my mental gridand freeze-frame through. This obstacle course has too many unknown variables.
He drops his hand without touching me, pushes up from the bed and goes to the kitchen. He braces his fists on the island and leans there with his back to me. Hes bigger than he was when I first saw him up on my water tower. The back of his shirt is stained with blood and his spine presses knobby and weird against it. Its creepy.
I scoot to the exit side of the bed, thinking Ill just be moseying along now, when I realize Im not wearing enough to get up. I only got on a bra and underwear. I sink back down and tuck my knees up. Not that I want to draw attention to the fact, but looking around yields no results. Where are my clothes?
Destroyed.
He undressed me! He must have washed me, too, because Im not covered with blood. Holy high wire! An Unseelie death-by-sex Fae thats having all kinds of temper problems undressed and cleaned me up. Do you, like, have any other clothes I could wear?
Dont use that tone with me.
What tone?
The one that thinks Im some kind of freak predator that molests children. Im not a freak and youre not a child. I undressed you, lass. I cleaned you up. I healed you. I will never hurt you.
How did you heal me?
Fed you my blood.
My gag reflex is instant and uncontrollable. I retch dry and noisy. Unlike a lot of other folks I know, drinking blood doesnt sound cool to me at all. It grosses me out. Same with eating Unseelie flesh; Ive never done it and never will. Im staying an Unseelie-flesh virgin all my life. Im not even tempted by the possibility that it could make me stronger and faster than I already am. Dude, you got to draw your lines in the sand somewhere and hold them. Its especially important when the sand keeps shifting beneath your feet.
Its potent. Works better than Unseelie flesh. A few drops in your mouth and He turns around and smiles at me. I think. Tattoos rush beneath the skin of his face, shadowing the planes and valleys, making it hard to decide just what that twist of his lips means. Theres really only one question: would you rather have died?
Thats an easy one for me. Id never rather that. Not under any circumstances. Ill take survival at any price. Always. No. Thanks for the blood, dude. Means a lot. I hate admitting this next part but Im pretty sure its true. You saved my life. I wont forget it. I smile back at him, then I just sit there trying not to gape at his reaction. He totally changes and I see the Highlander he was. His eyes go brown and playful and he looks college-guy hunky again; the tattoos recede from his face. Even his muscles change, smooth, and suddenly his body is more human.
He sounds a little too eager. Like homicidal maniac eager. Dont need no stinking help, I say crossly. My eardrums hurt. I mean not that your help is stinking or anything. Your help is totally cool. I just want to do it myself.
Would you come out from under there, lass?
Would you, like, never yell again? Youre slaying me. I got superhearing. I poke my head out. Where am I? Im in a cloud of down pillows and comforters, in a high bed, in the corner of a huge room.
My place.
I look around. Cool digs. Hes holed up in a rehabbed industrial warehouse, one of those kinds with a giant living area that has no walls except for the ones you make with furniture and stuff. Theres lots of brick and wood floors and exposed heating ducts, tons of light spilling in tall windows and a massive flat-screen 3D TV in front of a ginormous comfy-looking couch. Theres a pool table and some old video game machines and an awesome bar, a kitchen with stainless steel appliances, and no racks or torture instruments visible anywhere. Its just the kind of place a college guy would die fortoo bad hes not one anymore, but hey, we all have the things we need to pretend. No scary-looking knife collections. No red, no black, their favorite colors. The place is totally not Unseelie prince.
A shaft of rosy light is shining on me and I look up. The bed is under a skylight, the suns setting and its got one of those new, strange Fae hues to it, brilliant orangey pink. I could sprawl in bed and watch the stars at night. I like it being pushed in the corner, giving me wall at my right and back, leaving only two sides to defend. Feels snug. Makes me think about rearranging some of my own rooms. Im fascinated by the way other folks live, and love to look in other peoples houses. Aw, man, you ever move out, Im moving in!
Like it, do you, lass? he says, and his voice sounds funny. Thick and weird.
I look down at him and jerk. Something on my face? Hes staring at me hard, eyes intense, and whats looking out of them doesnt look like it belongs in this place of brick and wood and sunshine at all. It belongs in the dark somewhere, with razor blades, about to do something real nasty.
No. Your face is lovely, lass. The sunset looks good on you. He reaches a hand out toward my face and I go real still.
Dude, youre scaring me.
He looks at me but its like hes not seeing me at all, so I sit there with his hand about an inch from my face and look back and think about wild animals. About how theyll attack if they smell fear, not that I feel it, but when youre staring at an Unseelie prince, even though you know he started out human, its kind of hard to predict what might happen next. This isnt a scenario I can lock down on my mental gridand freeze-frame through. This obstacle course has too many unknown variables.
He drops his hand without touching me, pushes up from the bed and goes to the kitchen. He braces his fists on the island and leans there with his back to me. Hes bigger than he was when I first saw him up on my water tower. The back of his shirt is stained with blood and his spine presses knobby and weird against it. Its creepy.
I scoot to the exit side of the bed, thinking Ill just be moseying along now, when I realize Im not wearing enough to get up. I only got on a bra and underwear. I sink back down and tuck my knees up. Not that I want to draw attention to the fact, but looking around yields no results. Where are my clothes?
Destroyed.
He undressed me! He must have washed me, too, because Im not covered with blood. Holy high wire! An Unseelie death-by-sex Fae thats having all kinds of temper problems undressed and cleaned me up. Do you, like, have any other clothes I could wear?
Dont use that tone with me.
What tone?
The one that thinks Im some kind of freak predator that molests children. Im not a freak and youre not a child. I undressed you, lass. I cleaned you up. I healed you. I will never hurt you.
How did you heal me?
Fed you my blood.
My gag reflex is instant and uncontrollable. I retch dry and noisy. Unlike a lot of other folks I know, drinking blood doesnt sound cool to me at all. It grosses me out. Same with eating Unseelie flesh; Ive never done it and never will. Im staying an Unseelie-flesh virgin all my life. Im not even tempted by the possibility that it could make me stronger and faster than I already am. Dude, you got to draw your lines in the sand somewhere and hold them. Its especially important when the sand keeps shifting beneath your feet.
Its potent. Works better than Unseelie flesh. A few drops in your mouth and He turns around and smiles at me. I think. Tattoos rush beneath the skin of his face, shadowing the planes and valleys, making it hard to decide just what that twist of his lips means. Theres really only one question: would you rather have died?
Thats an easy one for me. Id never rather that. Not under any circumstances. Ill take survival at any price. Always. No. Thanks for the blood, dude. Means a lot. I hate admitting this next part but Im pretty sure its true. You saved my life. I wont forget it. I smile back at him, then I just sit there trying not to gape at his reaction. He totally changes and I see the Highlander he was. His eyes go brown and playful and he looks college-guy hunky again; the tattoos recede from his face. Even his muscles change, smooth, and suddenly his body is more human.
