“Because that’s the suggestion I put in his thoughts as I grabbed you when you were going to bite him.”
“You controlled James?” she asked, outrage seeping out in her voice.
“He can’t know about any of this,” Justin said with a shrug.
“But . . . he’s my husband. I shouldn’t keep something like this from him.”
“You’ll have to,” he said simply.
“But—-”
“He’ll just think you’ve had a nervous breakdown and are crazy. That’s what you thought when I told you about us, isn’t it?” he pointed out.
Holly felt herself flush guiltily. It was exactly what she’d thought. That he was a madman. It seemed he wasn’t so mad after all. He had turned her. Did that mean she really had hit her head and fallen on scissors? She peered down, her hand moving slowly across the skin exposed above her towel as she wondered where the scissors had gone in.
“Is the turn why I can’t remember anything that happened?” she asked finally.
“I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “It shouldn’t be from the head wound since that’s healed.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and then he added, “Or at least the visible part of it is healed. Marguerite did once say that the turn can continue long after the turnee is up and walking again. That it takes care of the big things first and then continues on to the smaller, more time--consuming repairs over time afterward.” He shrugged as if that wasn’t important. “If the nanos are still working on the inner repairs, you could yet regain those memories.”
“What are nanos and who is Marguerite?” Holly asked at once.
Justin opened his mouth, closed it again, and then said, “Look I’ll explain those two things and anything else you want to know, but not here, not now, and not with you standing there in nothing but a towel. Now let’s go in and get you dressed. Then we can go somewhere and talk about anything and everything you want.”
“Why can’t we do it here?” she asked at once.
“Because your husband can’t know about this, and,” he added firmly when she started to speak, “Because I don’t have any blood here for you. And unless you want to do your first practice biting session on your husband, I suggest we go somewhere where I do have blood for you.”
“Why would I practice biting at all?” she asked, alarm creeping into her voice. “Back at the hotel you said we don’t feed on mortals anymore.”
“I said it was against the law except in emergencies,” he corrected. “The time may come when you’re miles or hours away from bagged blood and may be in desperate need. Maybe you had an accident, or your supply was destroyed. If anything like that happens, you’ll need to know how to feed off the hoof without killing the donor.”
“Off the . . .” Holly peered at him with horror as she grasped what she thought he meant. “Seriously? You call it that?”
Justin sighed impatiently. “Off the hoof, takeout, two--footed fast food—-call it whatever you want so long as you learn how to do it properly and without causing harm to the mortal you feed on.”
“I would never—-”
“Never say never,” he interrupted solemnly. “Now, can you please get dressed?”
Holly would have liked more questions answered, but now that she was aware of her scantily clad state, she was self--conscious. Getting dressed seemed a good idea. Nodding, she moved past him and slid inside, aware that he was on her heels as she crossed the kitchen. That didn’t surprise her, but she was a little surprised when he trailed her upstairs as well. When he then tried to follow her into the bedroom, she stopped dead and turned to hiss, “I can manage on my own from here.”
“What if he wakes up?”
“So?” she asked with irritation. “He’s my husband, he’s seen me dress before.” Well, not really, she acknowledged. Mostly she took her clothes with her into the bathroom and dressed there, or used the closet door as a shield. She wasn’t comfortable being completely naked, even with her husband. He might notice the cellulite, or a stretch mark, or her muffin top. That was also why she insisted on the lights being out when they had sex.