Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8) - J.R. Ward Page 0,159

ready, willing . . . and, given the scent he was throwing off, able to be what Blay needed. At least on the inside. His exterior wasn't quite up to the job: His face remained swollen, his lips puffy not from an erotic pout, but some asswipe's punch, and he moved carefully, as if there were still a lot of black-and-blues on him.

Which was not cool. His injuries should have been healed up by now, some twelve hours following the attack. He was an aristocrat, after all, and had a good blood line.

"Oh, Blaylock, whatever are you doing here." Saxton shook his head.

"I still don't know why you came."

"How could I not have."

"You like being a hero, don't you."

"It's not heroic just to sit with someone."

"Don't underestimate that one," Saxton said gruffly. Which made Blay wonder. The guy had been his usual cool, slightly sarcastic self all morning and afternoon--but he had been attacked. Brutally.

"Are you okay?" Blay said softly. "Really okay." Saxton stared into his coffee. "I find it difficult to fathom humanity 340

sometimes, I truly do. Not just in that race, but our own."

"I'm sorry. About last night."

"Well, it got you in my bed, didn't it." Saxton smiled as much as he could, given that half of his mouth was distorted. "Not exactly the route I had planned to take to get you here . . . but it is lovely looking at you in the candlelight. You have the body of a soldier, but the face of an earnest scholar. The combination is . . . intoxicating." Blay finished what was in his cup on a oner and nearly choked. Or maybe that was less what he was drinking and more what he was hearing.

"Do you need a refill on the coffee?"

"Not right now, thank you. It was perfectly made, by the way, and that was also an excellent, if obvious, deflection." Saxton put his cup and saucer on his ormolu bed stand and resettled himself with a groan. To keep himself from staring at the guy, Blay put his cup on the blanket chest below and let his eyes wander around. Upstairs was all Victorian Empire, with heavy mahogany furniture and Oriental rugs and gorgeous, lush colors--which he'd learned during his excursions to the kitchen. The understated and proper and reserved got left at the cellar door, however. Down here it was all straight-up boudoir, everything French, with curving marble-topped tables and dressers and formal needlepoint rugs. Lot of satin and . . . black-and-white pencil drawings of gorgeous males reclining very much in the same way Saxton was.

Only without the robe.

"Do you like my etchings," Saxton drawled. Blay had to crack up. "What a line."

"I use it sometimes. I'm not going to lie." Abruptly, Blay had an image of the male naked and making love on this very bed, his flesh twisting and turning with another's. Surreptitiously checking his watch, he realized he had another seven hours here and he wasn't sure whether he wanted them to pass at a crawl or in a blink.

Saxton closed his lids and didn't so much sigh as shudder.

"When was the last time you fed?" Blay asked. Those heavy lids lifted and bright gray flashed. "Are you volunteering?"

"I meant from a female."

Saxton grimaced as he rearranged himself on the pillows. "A while. But I'm fine."

"Your face looks like a chessboard."

"You say the sweetest things."

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"I'm serious, Saxton. You won't show me what's going on under that robe, but if your face is any indication, you're hurting in other places." All he got back was an mmm.

"Now who's deflecting."

There was a long pause. "Saxton, I'm going to get you someone to feed from."

"You keep females in your back pocket?"

"Mind if I use your phone again?"

"Suit yourself."

Blay got up and went into the bathroom, preferring a little privacy because he had no clue how this was going to go.

"You could use the one right here," Saxton called out as he shut the door.

Blay came back out ten minutes later.

"I didn't know eHarmony worked that quickly," Saxton murmured, his eyes remaining shut.

"I have connections."

"Yes, you do."

"We're going to be picked up here at nightfall." That raised the blinds on those eyes. "By whom? And where are we off to?"

"We're going to take care of you."

Saxton drew in a breath and exhaled on a wheeze. "Coming to the rescue again, Blaylock?"

"Call it a compulsion." On that note, he went over to a chaise longue and lay on it. Pulling a luscious fur throw over