it because…” He shrugged. “I love Cliff like a brother. I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been the past two nights after spending time with you. So I wanted to thank you.”
“By scraping old paint off my siding?”
His lips quirked up in a smile. “Well, I’m not really a flowers-and-chocolates kind of guy.”
She grinned. “That’s okay. I actually appreciate this a lot more. That shit is tedious.”
He laughed. “Especially when done at mortal speeds?”
“Absolutely. But next time knock first and let me know it’s you. You scared the bejeebers out of me.” Her eyes widened. “Not that there will be a next time. You really don’t have to do this. Loving Cliff is its own reward. I don’t need any others.”
His hard features softened. “That almost makes me wish I were of the freely-distributes-hugs sort.”
Her responding laugh transmogrified into a yawn, catching her unawares. “Sorry about that.”
He swore. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
He grimaced. “I forgot that humans who work the day shift often like to sleep in on weekends.”
She waved away his concern. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You look tired.”
“Um. Thank you?”
“Damn it. I’m not supposed to mention things like that, am I?”
She smiled. “No.”
“Apparently I’m about as adept at social interaction as Roland Warbrook is.”
She nearly laughed at the comparison. Roland was notoriously antisocial. And Bastien was often described as having a bit of a fuck-you attitude.
“I didn’t mean to be impolite,” he said, his deep voice full of contrition. “It just occurred to me that Cliff’s late-night visits might adversely affect your health. Don’t humans need eight hours of sleep?”
“Ideally yes. But we can get by on less when we have to. I think most adults do get by on less. I got way less than eight hours when I was in college. So don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
“Not if Cliff keeps you up late seven nights a week.”
If Emma were a morning person and had gotten more sleep the previous night, she most likely would’ve reacted better to the innocuous statement. But crankiness and the fact that her relationship with Cliff was entirely dependent upon other people letting them see each other sparked anger and resentment. “Well, don’t even think about limiting the nights Cliff can see me, Bastien. As long as no one wakes me up at the crack of dawn, I can catch up on my rest on weekends. And if that isn’t enough—”
He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, one still gripping the scraper. “I wouldn’t do that, Emma. Cliff loves you. And I can see you love him, too. I was simply worried that not getting enough sleep would eventually wear you down and make you ill. Cliff wouldn’t want that. And I wouldn’t either. That’s all.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not really a morning person.”
“Nor am I,” he said with a smile. “I’d let Cliff have his roaming time and come here before we hunt together so you could go to bed earlier, but…” He hesitated a moment, expression sobering. “He needs the hunts to alleviate the aggression that grips him.”
Her stomach sank. Swallowing hard, she nodded. “I appreciate your being frank with me about that.”
“I will always be so when it comes to Cliff,” he vowed, voice softening. “You quiet the voices.”
“I do.”
“But he needs to hunt to eradicate the violent impulses that constantly build within him. And I think it best that he do that before he comes to see you. If Cliff ever hurt you—”
“He won’t.”
“But if he did, it would kill him.”
“He won’t hurt me, Bastien. I’m sure of it. And I can sleep late on weekends. If I get too tired during the week, I can always nap after I get home from work.” She shrugged. “And even if I couldn’t do either of those things, I’d still be okay because I’m a gifted one.”
His eyebrows flew up. “You are?”
She nodded. “According to the network, I’m the descendent of a healer, so I never get sick. Ever. I’ve never even caught a cold.” She also had a photographic memory that enabled her to remember with crystal clarity everything she’d ever read.
He stared at her, an almost comical look of horror dawning on his handsome features. “You aren’t a descendent of Roland Warbrook, are you?”
Emma grinned. “No.”
Relaxing, he pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. “Whew. That was a close one.” He grinned. “For a moment there I thought I was going to have to start playing