Oh, jeez. I shied away from the question and the door. “I don’t know how I feel about Jesse.” I swallowed. “Look, if you want to sleep on the porch I can’t stop you. Just leave me alone.”
This was usually the moment when Eli backed off, gave me space, and my hand was already moving toward the doorknob. But this time he surprised me. With no warning he bent from the waist and scooped me up, throwing me over one shoulder and marching into the living room. Werewolf or not, he was strong. “Hey!” I sputtered. “Knock it off! This is not a John Wayne movie!”
He sat down on the sofa, swinging me easily to straddle his lap so we were face-to-face. “Do you want it to be?” he said, grinning again. “I could kiss you, and you could beat your tiny fists against my chest until you’re just too overwhelmed with love to resist.”
“That’s not funny,” I said, annoyed.
“Talk to me,” he said firmly, the smile gone. “Talk to me, and I’ll head to the porch. And if you tell me you never want us to be more than colleagues, I promise you I’ll respect that. But this evasion thing has got to stop.”
I stared at him, openmouthed. Eli was always gentle, quiet. “Tonight? You’re picking tonight to throw ultimatums at me? This is bullshit.” I leaned back, trying to wiggle off his lap without dumping myself on my head.
Eli caught my wrists, very gently, and held me in place. “Scarlett,” he began, but I didn’t hear what he said next. I felt a sharp rush of panic, and salt water stung my eyes. I couldn’t take his hands off my wrists. Eli’s fingers were warm, but they still made me think of the cold silver handcuffs in Jared Hess’s basement.
“Let go,” I whispered. “Please let me go.”
He followed my gaze and immediately released my wrists, looking stricken. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think.”
I scrambled off his lap, nearly tripping over the coffee table, and dropped into the opposing armchair. I pulled my knees to my chin and hugged them, hating the gesture but unable to stop. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” Good Lord. My body chemistry couldn’t take much more of this night.
“No, it’s not.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m sorry, Scarlett.” He looked so tired. All of a sudden I felt like a terrible person.
“Look,” I began haltingly, “I know I’m not—good at this. The talking stuff.” He looked at me. “I do, um, care about you. But you deserve someone who can do the talking stuff.” He opened his mouth, and I held up a hand, shaking my head. “No, please don’t. Not tonight, okay? Tonight could you just drop it and…come to bed with me? To sleep,” I added hurriedly. “For sleeping.” Stop talking, Scarlett.
He stood up slowly, so I could see him coming, and came around the coffee table to take my hand. I let him pull me up. He studied my face, but when I kept my eyes trained over his shoulder he just kissed my forehead. I led him up to my room.
Eli flipped on the light switch and took hold of my jacket so I could twist out of it. I pulled down the covers and crawled onto the bed, unbuttoning my jeans, which he tugged down my legs, depositing them on the floor. He pulled off his own shoes and jeans, exposing blue cotton boxers that I’d never seen before. He lay down beside me on the bed, lifting his arm so I could snuggle under. I marveled again at how easily Eli and I fit together.
He fussed with my hair, picking loose strands off my face and smoothing them back toward the bun. Suddenly my hair felt too tight on my head. I reached back and pulled out the rubber band, and he made a soft noise of pleasure, winding his long fingers in my hair, spiraling it around and around. I looked up at him, tensing for a kiss, but he just planted a quick smooch on my nose and said, “Tell me about New York.”
I relaxed onto his chest. New York…was I really there just a few hours before? “It was cold. Very cold. And everything is decorated all to hell for Christmas. It was like being inside a snow globe.” He made a “go on” noise. “The New York null is nice. His name is Jameson, and he works mostly for the city’s master vampire.”
“Malcolm.”
“Yeah.” I tilted my head up at him. “How did you know that?”
“I met him,” Eli said soberly. “I moved here from New York, remember?”
“Oh. Right. Well, Jameson goes to a lot of daytime business meetings with him. I went along, got to know some of the vampires. There, um, weren’t a lot of werewolves.”
“No,” Eli said with some bitterness. “Malcolm doesn’t care for us. He forces the wolves out of the city.”
Which explained why Eli had moved to LA. Not that I’d ever thought to just ask. I felt like an idiot. Two minutes of trying to have a real, no-drama conversation, and I’d brought up a sore subject. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
I sometimes forget that for all the tension between Will, Dashiell, and Kirsten, we’re actually pretty lucky in LA. Most major cities are run by one group or another, and everyone else is encouraged to get the hell out of town. LA is the only city I know of where all three groups are welcome to live in peace, minus the occasional skirmish over who insulted whom.
It wasn’t always this way. Witches, werewolves, and vampires all evolved from the same group of people, thousands of years ago. For a long time, they’d all interacted more or less in peace, even helping each other out occasionally. Then there was an Inquisition or five, which was hard on all three groups, but particularly on the witches. Their leaders went to the vampires and werewolves and begged for help, but both groups turned them away, for different reasons. The desperate witches tried to strengthen their magic, and made an inadvertent discovery that changed everything—and led to even more tension. Four hundred-some years of fighting later, a werewolf gets kicked out of New York and begins tending bar in LA.