Sucker Punch (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #27) - Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,231

It made sad little sounds, and the aroma was anemic, as if the generic coffee the motel offered wasn’t going to cut it. Almost everyone had taken water. I had a Powerade that Nicky had insisted I take. He’d also offered me a protein bar, which I would have turned down, but he gave me that look that people have been getting from their significant others since probably before written language. The look said I was being unreasonable, and after what had happened at the strip club, he was right. The healthy bars never taste right to me, and the unhealthy ones . . . honestly you might as well eat a candy bar and be done with it, but I took the bar. He opened the end of it before he gave it to me. Now he knew I wouldn’t just shove it into a pocket and forget about it. He knew me too well. The wrapper said it was triple-chocolate good and it managed not to be, but it wasn’t terrible. It certainly wasn’t as terrible as me losing control again. I took another bite and a drink of the Powerade, which helped. It was almost like chocolate cake and Kool-Aid at a kid’s birthday party—okay, it wasn’t, but I looked at Olaf sitting on the couch and thought about losing control when he was the nearest snack. I finished the bar in record time.

Olaf sipped his water and looked at me. It was like he was waiting for me to say something. What had I missed while I was staring out the window?

“I’m sorry, really. It’s not like me to be this distracted.”

“Drink your Powerade,” Nicky said.

“I ate a big lunch.”

“You haven’t eaten enough today, Anita.”

“Stop fussing over me.”

Ethan said, “Do you really want Nicky to stop fussing about your health and well-being?”

I realized what I’d done. “I’m sorry, Nicky. I don’t mean that I want you to stop taking care of me. If that includes fussing, so be it.”

“Thanks, Ethan,” Nicky said.

“Would you truly have had to stop fussing over Anita if Ethan had not interceded?” Olaf asked.

“It was a direct order, so yeah.”

Olaf made a movement that in anyone else I’d have said was a shiver. I’d never seen the big guy that unsettled. “I cannot believe you are happy with being Anita’s Bride.”

“If you had asked me ahead of time, I’d have said hell no, but now it’s just peaceful. Like I told you earlier, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

Olaf shook his head. “I do not think I would be happier as someone’s slave.”

“He’s not my slave,” I said.

Olaf gave me the full weight of his cave-black eyes. “He must obey your every word. He has no free will of his own. Your happiness means more to him than his own. If he is not your slave, then I have no word for it.”

“If you’re in love with someone, then sometimes their happiness is more important than yours,” Edward said.

“Then love is just another kind of slavery.”

“It’s not,” I said.

“It’s really not,” Edward said.

“It’s wonderful,” Ethan said.

“It can be better than almost anything,” Milligan said from his piece of wall.

“Better than being out in the field with your brothers-in-arms?” Olaf asked.

Milligan smiled. “I said almost anything.”

“If your wife was here, you’d say it different,” Custer said.

Milligan shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t. She understands. That’s why we’ve been married for ten years.”

“Congratulations,” Edward said.

“Yeah, Millie here is the old married guy in our unit,” Custer said.

“Ten years is a long time for one of the Team’s guys to be married,” Edward said.

Milligan smiled and nodded at the compliment.

“Olaf, if you see being in love as slavery, then why do we need to have this big talk?” I asked. I took a sip of my Powerade, too. I really did want to do better, but I’d still rather have had one of the soft drinks.

“I am offering sex, not love. We’re having the big talk, as you put it, because you’re afraid to have sex with me.”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, but I am offering to have ordinary sex with you, not my normal way.”

“What do you mean by ordinary sex?” I asked.

“Plain vanilla sex.”

“We’re going to have to define terms,” I said, “because one person’s plain vanilla can be someone else’s rocky road with sprinkles on top.”

Olaf frowned and sipped his bottled water. “I do not know how to answer that.”

Angel said, “Some men that say straight vanilla mean missionary position with no foreplay