“It’s all right,” Paine said quietly, as if he knew what I was thinking. “Take it, Rhiannon.”
He didn’t mention the worry about the blood changing me as I’d ingested a bucket load not too long ago, but I was aware that we were on the same page. Considering he and Disco had been friends since childhood, long before they had become vampires, the loss must have been excruciating to him as well. Perhaps even more so, as he’d witnessed Disco’s death before it ever happened. It was his gift and his curse to see the past and future of those he touched.
Anger surfaced at the thought, even if it was wrong of me. Paine could have saved all of us a lot of misery if he’d have broken his rules regarding fate, circumstance and chance.
Damn him and his fucking ripple-effect diatribe.
As if sensing my fury, he pressed his wrist to my mouth, preventing me from lashing out at him verbally. I snatched his arm, placed his cool skin to my mouth, and did something I never did with Disco—I bit down. Even though he must have felt it, he didn’t move or make a sound. His blood tasted different than Disco’s. Instead of cloves and cinnamon, Paine was like sweet, woodsy lemon balm. One swallow, then another, shifted my perception. My eyes cleared, my hearing changed, and my enhanced sense of smell allowed me to appreciate the succulent aroma of Paine’s skin. The moment I felt the corresponding tingles that indicated his blood was bypassing my stomach and spreading through my system, I let go and thrust his hand away.
Paine turned from me but, as was always the case, I couldn’t read him.
He nodded at Bells and said, “Thank you for calling me.”
“No prob.” She shrugged and grinned. “When I saw the dogs, I knew things were bound to get nasty.”
“We need to go.” Goose stood and offered a hand to help me up. “We still have a lot to talk about, and it’s not safe in the open.”
“That’s the understatement of the fucking century,” I muttered and accepted the gesture, grateful for the assistance.
“We can discuss this at the club.” Paine didn’t move closer as I stood, but his attention remained riveted on me. It wasn’t uncommon to catch him staring. Back in the day, I’d see him doing it when he thought I wasn’t aware, as if he had knowledge of something I didn’t. I’d always assumed it was because of the connection we shared. Although it shouldn’t have been possible, I was the only person who wasn’t susceptible to his ability.
Recalling his earlier hesitation before he touched me, I paused.
Perhaps he could see my future now. Maybe things had changed.
“What did you see when you touched me?” I asked.
He took one step closer, then another, until he was directly in front of me.
Time seemed to stand still as I waited, hope and fear warring with each other. Our friendship was formed by his inability to see anything in my past, present, or future. If he could see those things now, it would change things, and I needed more friends in this reality than enemies.
His answer came in the form of touch.
He placed his hands on either side of my face, cradling my jaw, and angled my chin until our eyes met. “Nothing has changed.”
For a moment, I considered telling him he was wrong. Everything had changed.
But I didn’t.
Fatigue spread through me, an acceptance that despite my anger and hurt, I was here now. Wallowing in self-pity wouldn’t do me any favors. I lifted my hands and wrapped my fingers around his wrists, comforted by the feel of his cool, soft skin, and gave him a gentle squeeze.
“Come on,” I said, staring him in the eye. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Nine