I’m high and when I’m not.”
When Jo stopped and glanced behind herself, his expression turned hopeful.
“Do you mind if I drop you off at the bus stop on Jefferson? I don’t think I have time to take you all the way back.”
Dougie threw his arms up. “Aw, come on, Jo—let me just show you over here…”
“Bus stop it is,” she said. “And remind me of this the next time you drop acid. I want to be prepared.”
FIFTEEN
Sometime later, Mary woke up after a good long rest … and smiled at her decidedly asleep mate. Rhage was out like a light, his eyes closed, one blond brow twitching, his jaw grinding as if maybe he were dreaming of an argument or a pool game. His breathing was deep and even, and yes, he was snoring. Not like a chain saw, though. Or an unmuffled Mustang revving at a red light. Or even anything close to Butch’s wounded-badger routine—which was something you had to hear to believe.
No, the sounds her man let out were more like a Krups coffee pot right as it was finishing a cycle of brewing; the kind of thing that burbled in the background, offering a comforting rhythm of patter that she could sleep through if she wanted to or stay up and listen to if she were stewing again. Come to think of it, his snores were probably the quietest thing about him, considering how heavy his footfalls were, how loud his laugh was, and how much he spoke, especially if he were giving his Brothers a hard time.
All that out-there was just part of what she loved so much about him.
He was always so alive. So very much alive.
Thank God.
As she went for a stretch, she moved slowly against his body so she didn’t wake him up and glanced at the clock across the recovery room. Seven at night. Past sundown.
Given how tired he had to be, he was liable to sleep another four or five hours. Probably better that she head out now and come back when he was awake.
“I’m going to head into Safe Place for a little bit,” she said softly. “You stay with him. Let him know I’ll be back soon, or he can call me?”
She was talking to the beast, of course—and treating that massive, bone-crushing dragon as some kind of social secretary. But it worked. If she had to leave when Rhage was asleep, she always told the beast what she was doing and when she’d be back. That way, Rhage didn’t wake up in a cold sweat that she’d been abducted. Murdered. Or had a slip and fall in the bathroom that had knocked her out and left her bleeding all over the marble floor.
Yeah, bonded males tended to jump to conclusions that were just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiittle over the top.
Mary carefully disengaged herself from Rhage’s hold—only to stop when she was halfway free. Staring down at his unmarred, completely intact sternum, she brushed her fingertips over where the gunshot had been.
“I didn’t say thank you,” she whispered. “You saved him. I owe you … so very much.”
All at once, Rhage’s lids flipped open—but it wasn’t him waking up. His eyes were nothing but white orbs, that telltale illumination of the beast’s consciousness training on her with total focus.
She smiled and brushed her mate’s face, knowing that the dragon would feel her touch. “Thank you. You’re a good boy.”
A quieter version of the affectionate chuff the beast always gave her reverberated up and out of Rhage’s throat.
“Go back to sleep, too, okay? You need your rest as well. You worked hard last night.”
One more chuff … and those lids started to sink. The beast fought the tide like a puppy, but ultimately lost the battle, the snoring returning, the pair of them both reengaging with whatever versions of dreamland they were in.
Leaning down, she kissed her mate’s forehead and smoothed his hair back. Then she padded over to the bathroom and shut the door. As soon as she turned to the counter by the sink, she smiled. Someone—oh, who was she kidding, it had to have been Fritz—had laid out complete changes of clothes for the both of them. As well as toothbrushes, a razor and shaving cream, and shampoo and conditioner.
“Fritz, thy name truly is thoughtfulness.”
And oh, what a shower it was. From time to time, she wondered whether the sounds or scents were going to wake up Rhage, but when she was drying off, she cracked the door