“You cannot always get what you want,” Magnus said unsympathetically.
“Rolling Stones fan, huh?” Beth asked dryly, and realized he hadn’t been purposely misquoting the song only when he peered at her blankly. Sighing, she said, “Never mind. Look, I’m going a little stir-crazy here, guys. I need to get out of the house. But I also really do want to wear my own clothes. I’m not comfortable taking from the stockroom here. Not when I have my own clothes just a short drive away.” Beth hesitated briefly, but then added, “And I wouldn’t mind some takeout either. No offense to Sam, but I’m a meat eater. I’m not keen on kale salad and vegetable soup.”
“I hear you on that one,” Mortimer said dryly.
Sam was on a health food kick at the moment, and forcing the rest of them along with her on the journey.
“I swear I’m going to ban magazines from the house if she keeps trying every new trend that comes out,” he added grimly, then glanced to Magnus and said, “Take her to her apartment and let her get some clothes, and then pick up some takeout on the way back . . . for all of us,” he said heavily and then added, “Well, all of us meat eaters.”
“Do I need a jacket?” Beth asked Mortimer.
“Not today. It’s nice out,” he answered.
Nodding, Beth turned to lead the way out of the office.
“Scotty is not going to like this,” Magnus said in warning as he followed.
“Scotty won’t know. He is sleeping,” Beth assured him. “The first pain-free sleep he’s had in days now that the worst of the healing is done.”
Beth had “put Scotty to sleep” several times since the day they’d woken up after the fire. And while at first the start of each time had been terribly painful, she’d kept at it because it had worked, and had ended with the sought-for results . . . the unconsciousness that followed release. Well, not that she hadn’t felt the pleasure too and passed out. Beth might not have enjoyed the start of the first few sessions, but she had the end . . . too much. The last two days had been spent completely in bed with him. Scotty had slept for hours after that first time she’d tried to ease his pain and lull him into the unconsciousness that followed life mate sex. He’d done the same after the second, and had healed a good deal during those first two rests. By her third effort, she had noticed that his pain wasn’t nearly as bad, and the whole exercise was much more pleasurable for both from the beginning.
By the fourth time, his face had cleared up enough that he could kiss her, and Scotty had been the one to initiate the life mate sex. He’d also initiated the fifth and sixth time, stirring her awake with passionate kisses and caressing hands. Beth had woken first the seventh time, though, and noting that his expression in sleep was relaxed and pain-free, but that he was terribly pale, she’d realized they’d been neglecting food and blood. Scotty needed both to finish healing, so she’d snuck below and fetched cheese and crackers—the only things non-vegetable in the house.
Beth had taken her booty back to the room to wake Scotty with an offering of that and the blood she fetched from the refrigerator in their room. They’d spent the day eating, chatting, laughing, and making love.
Beth had woken up first again this last time, and she’d rolled over and just stared at Scotty for the longest time . . . until she’d realized she had a goofy smile on her face and was thinking a bunch of ridiculous things about what they should do today, tomorrow, next week. She was falling for the bastard, Beth had realized with alarm. She was falling for him and planning a future with the man when she didn’t even know if there was a future for her with him. Certainly he hadn’t said anything to suggest there was.
Stunned at how stupid she was turning out to be in the romance department, Beth had slid from bed. After quickly throwing on the clothes Sam had left on the chair for her, she’d come below to find Magnus and Mortimer in the office and demanded she be allowed to leave the house for a bit. And—thank God—they were going to allow it. Or, Mortimer was going to allow it and Magnus was reluctantly going along with it, Beth thought as she followed him out the back door.
They walked to the garage in silence, and then Beth led the way in when Magnus opened the door for her. She nearly crashed into Odilia and Rickart.
“Sorry,” she said, jerking back to avoid the collision, and stomped on Magnus’s foot and bumped into his chest instead.
There was a moment when they all laughed, and then Rickart said, “It is good to see you up, Beth. How is Scotty doing?”
“Much better. He’ll probably be up and about in another hour or so himself,” she assured him, and then turned to offer a tentative smile to Odilia and said, “Thank you for the flowers. That was very kind of you.”
Looking embarrassed, Odilia shrugged. “I thought it might brighten up the room a bit and give you something to look at other than four walls.”
Beth smiled. “Well, thank you. They are beautiful.”
“So?” Rickart glanced from her to Magnus. “What are you two doing?”
“Beth wants clothes from her apartment and takeout,” Magnus said dryly. “So I am driving her.”
“Is that—I mean, should she—Would it not be better—”
“Mortimer okayed it,” Magnus said, ending Rickart’s struggle. “In fact, he suggested I bring some takeout for everyone. Any requests?”
“Not for me,” Odilia said at once, slipping past them. “I am just off shift and ready for a nice soak and some sleep. But thank you,” she added, stepping outside and heading for the cars parked in front of the garage.
“Rickart?” Magnus asked.
Beth glanced to the other Enforcer with surprise. She’d thought him older, like Magnus and Scotty, but if he ate, he couldn’t be, she thought as he hesitated.
“I will accompany you and think on the way,” he said finally. “In fact, we can take my car.”
“Good man,” Magnus murmured and followed him outside, ushering Beth with a hand at her back.
“Nice car. Not sure about the color, but I like the shape,” Beth said as he led them to a mustard-yellow Mustang.
“I was going to rent one in lightning blue, but didn’t want Odilia to think I was copying her,” Rickart said, speaking with exaggerated volume. Presumably so Odilia could hear.
“Ha ha! Just get it over with and admit you are color-blind,” Odilia taunted him through the open window of the next car over.
Beth smiled as she looked over the metallic-blue Mercedes sedan the woman was starting, and said, “I think I like hers better.”
“Oh, Dear God, you are breaking my heart,” Rickart exclaimed, opening the front passenger door for her. “This is a Mustang. There is no better car than this.”