The Hollow (24 page)

“I was hoping you'd say that,” he murmured and slipped inside her again, hard as steel.

Her eyes went wide. “How can you—don't you have to . . . Oh God. Oh God.”

“You're all soft now. Wet and soft and even more sensitive than the first time.” He moved in her, long, long, slow thrusts, leaving her shuddering on each stroke. “I'll take you deeper this time. Close your eyes, Layla. Let yourself take what I'm giving you.”

She had no choice; she was beyond will. Her body was so heavy, while inside it a thousand small eruptions burst. He touched her, his hands alighting needs she thought had gone quiet.

So she went deeper, into pleasure both intense and foreign.

“Don't stop. Don't.”

“Not until you get there.”

When she did, it was like plummeting out of the sky, a tumbling free fall that stole the breath.

SHE WAS STILL LIMP WHEN HE BROUGHT HER A glass of wine. “I ordered pizza. That okay?”

She managed a nod. “How do you . . . Can you always recover that quickly?”

“One of the perks.” He sat cross-legged on the bed with his own glass of wine, and cocked his head. “Hasn't Quinn mentioned it? Come on, I know your breed talks about sex.”

“Mentioned . . . Well, she said it's the best sex of her life, if that's what you mean. And that he's . . .” She felt very strange, talking about their friends this way. “Well, he's got amazing staying power.”

“You know how we heal fast, since that night? Sort of the same thing here.”

“Oh.” She drew the word out, and slaked her thirst with wine. “That is a very fine perk.”

“It's a particular favorite of mine.” He rose, walked around the room lighting candles.

Yes, yes, she thought, that was a
very
nice ass. His hair tumbled messily around that sharp-featured face. Those gilded eyes were satisfied, and just a little sleepy.

She wanted to lap him up like melted chocolate.

“What's your record?”

He glanced back and grinned. “What time frame? An evening, an overnight, a lost weekend?”

Over the rim of her glass her eyes challenged him. “We'll start with an evening, and I bet we can beat it.”

They ate pizza in bed. The pie was cold by the time they got to it, but they were both too ravenous to care. The music changed to B. B. King, and the candles wafted out lovely light and fragrance.

“My mother makes them,” he told her when she commented.

“Your mother makes candles—gorgeous, fragrant candles—throws pots, and does watercolors.”

“And weaves. Does other needlework when the mood strikes.” He licked sauce off his thumb. “Now if only she'd cook real food, she'd be perfect.”

“Are you the only carnivore in the family?”

“My father sneaks a Big Mac now and then, and Sage fell off the veggie wagon, too.” He contemplated another slice of pizza. “I decided to do it.”

“To do what?”

“To, ah, give Sage—or I guess it would be give Paula— the magic elixir.”

“The . . . Oh.” She angled her head. “What made you decide?”

“I just figured I'm not doing anything with it, right at the moment. And they're family. If I can help make them happy, help give them a family, why wouldn't I?”

“Why wouldn't you?” she repeated quietly, then took his face in her hands to kiss him. “You're one in a million.”

“Let's hope I've got one or two in a million that'll get the job done for them. I know it's a strange thing to bring up under the current conditions, but I thought you should know. Some women might find it a little weird, or off-putting. I'm not getting that you do.”

“I think it's loving, and lovely.” She kissed him again, just before the phone rang.

“Hold that thought.” He scooted back to answer the bedside phone. “Hey. Oh yeah.” He tipped the phone to address Layla. “It's Cal. No, we'll get to that tomorrow. It can wait until tomorrow. Because I'm with Layla,” he said. He hung up the phone, looked at her. “I'm with Layla.”

SHE HADN'T MEANT TO SPEND THE NIGHT, AND was vaguely surprised by the sun streaming through the windows. “Oh my God. What time is it?”

She started to roll out of bed, was rolled right back and under Fox. “It's morning, it's early. What's the rush?”

“I have to get home, change. Fox!” Amusement, arousal, and sheer bafflement warred inside her as his hands got busy under the covers. “Stop.”

“That's not what you said last night. How many times was that?” He laughed as his mouth covered hers. “Relax. So you'll be a little late. I can guarantee your boss won't mind.”

Later, a great deal later while she hunted up her second stocking, he offered her a can of Coke. “Sorry, it's the only caffeine on the premises.”

She winced at it, then shrugged. “It'll have to do. It's a good thing you don't have an appointment until ten thirty, because I'm barely going to make it into the office by ten.”

He watched her slip her foot into the hose. “Maybe I should help you with that.”

“Stay away from me.” She laughed, but pointed a finger at him. “I mean it. It's almost business hours.” She drew up the stocking, slipped on her shoes. “I'll be in the office as soon as I can manage it.”

“I'll drive you home.”

“Thanks, but I'll walk. I think I need some air.” She stood, pointed at him again. “Hands up.” When he grinned, held up his hands, she leaned in to kiss him.

Then she escaped before she could change her mind.

Her hopes to dash straight upstairs when she got home were scotched as Cybil stood on the bottom landing, leaning on the banister. “Ah, look who's doing the Walk of Shame. Hey, Q, baby sister's home.”

“I've got to change and get to work. Talk later.”

She made the dash, but Cybil was right behind her. “Oh no, you don't. Talk while you change.”

Since Quinn swung out of the office and into Layla's bedroom with Cybil, Layla gave up.

“Obviously, I spent the night with Fox.”

“Playing chess?” Quinn grinned as Layla stripped on her way to the shower. “Isn't that his game?”

“We never got to that. Maybe next time.”

“From the smile on your face, it's obvious he has a few other games,” Cybil commented.

“I feel . . .” She jumped into the shower. “Used and energized, amazed and stupefied.” She whipped the shower curtain back an inch. “Why didn't you tell me about the perk?” she demanded. “About how they recover, sexually, the same way they heal?”

“Didn't I mention that?”

“No.” It was Cybil who answered, giving Quinn a hard poke.

“Speaking of energy, the Energizer Bunny is a worn-out, sluggish rabbit comparatively.” Quinn gave Cybil a sympathetic hug. “I didn't want to make you feel sad and deprived, Cyb.”

Cybil just narrowed her eyes. “How many times? And don't try to tell me you didn't count,” she added as she pulled the shower curtain open.

Layla pulled it back, then stuck out a hand, five fingers spread.

“Five?”

Then put the tips of her pinky and thumb together to add another three.

“
Eight?
Holy Mother of God.”

Layla switched off the shower, grabbed a towel. “That's not counting twice this morning. I have to admit, I'm a little tired, and I'm starving. And I'd
kill
for coffee.”

“You know what?” Cybil said after a moment. “I'm going to go down and scramble you some eggs, pour you a giant cup of coffee. Because right at the moment, you're my hero.”

Quinn stayed behind as Layla, wrapped in the towel, rubbed lotion on her arms and legs. “He's a sweetie.”

“I know he is.”

“Are you going to be able to work together, sleep together, and fight the forces of evil together?”

“You're managing it with Cal.”

“Which is why I ask, because the combination can have its moments. I guess I wanted to say that if you run into one of those moments, you can talk to me.”

“I've been able to talk to you from the first. I guess that's one of our perks.” Because it was true, Layla considered as she drew on her robe. “My feelings for him, for just about everything right now, are tangled and confused. And for just about the first time in my life, confusion isn't such a bad thing.”

“Good enough. Well, try not to work too hard today because we're having a summit meeting tonight. Cal wants to know what Fox came up with.”

“About what?”

“I don't know.” Quinn pursed her lips. “He didn't mention anything to you? A theory.”

“No. No, he didn't.”

“Maybe he's still working it out. In any case, we'll talk about whatever we talk about tonight.”

By the time Layla got to the office, Fox was already in and on the phone. With his next client due in shortly after, it wasn't the time, in her opinion, to pin him down about their other collaboration and theories.

She checked his schedule, hunting for a reasonable span of free time, then stewed while she worried about why he hadn't mentioned anything about it to her.

When Sage came in just as Layla was about to take advantage of a lull, Layla decided she was outnumbered for the workday.

“Fox gave me a call, asked me to come by. Is he free now?”

“As a bird.”

“I'll just go on back.”

Thirty minutes passed before Sage came out again. It was obvious she'd been crying even when she sent Layla a brilliant smile. “Just in case you're not aware, you're working for the most amazing, most beautiful, most incredible man in the entire universe. Just in case you didn't know,” she added, and ran out.

With a sigh, Layla tried to bury her own questions—and the annoyance that had been working up through them— and went back to see how Fox had weathered what must have been an emotional half hour.

He sat at his desk with the look of a man who was seriously worn at the edges. “She cried,” he said immediately. “Sage, she's not much of a crier, but she sure cut loose.

Then she called Paula, and Paula cried. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed, so if crying's on your agenda, could we get a continuance?”

Saying nothing, Layla walked to his fridge, got him a Coke.

“Thanks. I've got an appointment to . . . Since I just had a physical a few months ago, they're sending my records to the place where they do it. Sage, she's got a friend in Hagerstown who's her doctor. So I've got—we've got—an appointment day after tomorrow, and the day after, since Paula's going to be . . .”

“Ovulating?”

He winced. “Even with my upbringing, I'm not completely at ease with all this. So day after tomorrow. Eight. I've got court, so I'll just go there after.” He rose, put a dollar in the jar. “This is fucking bizarre. There, that's better. So what's up next?”

“I am. Quinn told me you were supposed to meet with Cal and Gage last night, and that you wanted to meet with them to tell them about a theory you have.”

“Yeah, then I got a better offer, so . . .” He trailed off. He knew that look in her eyes. “That pisses you off?”

“I don't know. It depends. But it certainly baffles me that you have an idea you think worth discussing with your
men
friends, and not with me.”

“I would have discussed it with you, but I was busy enjoying mutual multiple orgasms.”

True, she had to admit. But not altogether the point. “I was with you all day in this office, all night in bed. I think there was time in that frame to bring this up.”

“Sure. But I didn't want to bring it up.”

“Because you wanted to talk to Cal and Gage first.”

“Partly, because I've always talked to Cal and Gage first. A thirty-year habit doesn't change overnight.” The first hint of annoyance danced around the edges of his voice. “And mostly because I wasn't thinking about anything but you. I didn't want to think about anything but you. And I'm damn well entitled to take time for that. I didn't consider my idea about Giles Dent as foreplay, and I sure as hell didn't consider talk about human sacrifice as postcoital conversation. Hang me.”

“You should've . . . Human sacrifice? What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

The phone rang, and cursing, Layla reached across his desk to answer. “Good afternoon, Fox B. O'Dell's office. I'm sorry, Mr. O'Dell's with a client. May I take a message?” She scribbled a name and number on Fox's memo pad. “Yes, of course, I'll see he gets it. Thank you.”

She hung up. “You can call them back when we're done here. I need to know what you're talking about.”

“A possibility. Ann wrote that Dent intended to do something no guardian had done, and that there'd be a price. The guardians are the good guys, right? That's how we've always looked at them, at Dent. The white hats. But even white hats can step into the gray. Or past the gray. I see it all the time in my line of work. What people do if they're desperate enough, if they feel justified, if they stop believing they have another choice. Blood sacrifice. That's the province of the other side. Usually.”

“The deer, the one Quinn saw in her dream last winter, lying across the path in the woods with its throat slit. The blood of the innocent. It's in the notes. We speculated that Dent did that, that he sacrificed the fawn. But you said human.”

“Do you think that sacrificing Bambi could have given Dent the power he needed to hold Twisse for three hundred years? The power to pass what he did to me, Cal, and Gage when the time came? That's what I asked myself, Layla. And I don't think it could've been enough.”