It was common for males to become sexually aroused when they indulged their bloodlust. He’d learned this over time. But that did not mean they wanted to have sex. Or, in his case, when he’d lost his virginity, consented to the act. After it was all done, she had kissed him and dismounted with an air of satisfaction. Taking the money, she had left him on the cot, her juices drying on his hard cock, a dirty feeling staining the inside of his skin.
The sense that she had taken something from him had persisted for nights.
“It’s not an injury,” he said tightly. “It’s just the way it’s always been.”
“Have you been checked out by a doctor?”
“Sure,” he murmured so she’d stop asking questions on the topic.
“And there’s nothing they can do about it?”
“No.”
“I’m really sorry.”
Syn took a deep breath, and as he let it out, he hoped the exhale took some of the sting in his chest with it. “I don’t spend any time thinking about it.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
I’ve bonded with you, he thought to himself.
“So tell me about her,” Jo said softly. “And don’t deny she exists. I can see it in your face.”
“I’m looking away from you,” he pointed out as he deliberately focused on a Panera restaurant. Then a Ford dealership. Then a Sunoco gas station.
“Fine, I can hear it in your voice.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You are now. And I can tell.”
Syn was not about to go into the bonding thing with her. So in his head, he moved on to that female from the Old Country, picturing her front and center so that all other considerations were hidden—even though, as much as he had always been told, humans couldn’t read the thoughts of others.
So it wasn’t like Jo could get into his skull and see what he was skirting.
“That female was not meant for me,” he said. “So I don’t think I ever loved her in the way you mean. We were never together.”
“How did you know her?”
“She lived in the same village I did. Back… home. In the Old Country. I knew her because I was—” He swallowed. “Anyway.”
“What,” Jo said. “Please, just tell me. This is really helping.”
There were streetlights mounted up high on poles, and as they passed them by, the illumination came through the sunroof’s transparent panel. As the gentle strobing bathed he and Jo to a slow beat, he found that he was glad they were in a car and she had to focus on the road ahead. On the other drivers out with them, though there were few. On the red lights and the intersections.
There was no way in hell he could have gotten through any of this if she’d been staring him in the face.
“I was poor,” he said. “Not the poor where you want things you can’t have. Not the poor where you’re bitter about what other people are doing or what they own. Poor like you don’t know if you’re going to be eating at nightfall. Like you aren’t sure whether there will be clothes for you to wear. Like if you get sick, you’re going to die and you’re okay with that because all you know is how hungry and thirsty and tired you are.”
“God, Syn—”
When she reached over and put her hand on the sleeve of his leather jacket, he moved away sharply. “No. I’m going to get through this once and then I’m never speaking of it to you again. And you’re not going to touch me when I’m talking.”
“But I feel bad—”
“I don’t care.” He looked over at her. “You want a pound of flesh, fine. I get it. Hell, it’s even a fair thing to ask. Do not pity me, though. You can fuck off with your sympathy. I’m not asking for it and I’m not interested in it. Are we clear?”
There was a brief pause. And then she nodded with a sadness that was palpable.
“Crystal clear,” she said quietly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Inside the downtown garage bay, Butch paced back and forth across the space where Manny’s surgical RV chilled out when it wasn’t in use in the field, transporting someone to the clinic for treatment, or being worked on back at the training center.
He checked his watch. Paced some more.
The garage was a nifty bolt-hole on the edge of the field, and the two-story, steel-girded lockdown was stocked with all kinds of supplies: Medical crap. Mechanical crap. Food crap.