CHAPTER 43
lt’s funny how fast he averts his
eyes.
Not that I blame him.
The one good thing you can say about the Thermud caked all over me,
it covers my scars. I pad into the bathroom, examining all the
different settings. I’m used to a san-shower that just cleans you
up. This one promises to unclog your pores, steam off the dead
cells, and leave you glowing with health.
“Well, let’s see what
this thing can do.”
Midway through my
shower, Jael calls, “You all right in there?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I
be? It’s pure bliss.”
Sound of throat
clearing. “No reason.”
Half an hour later, I
step out and wrap myself up in an ivory robe. I find Jael sprawled
on the sofa, drink in hand. But he appears to be . . .
blushing?
“What?” I check the
tie to make sure I’m not showing skin.
“Have a good time?”
he chokes out. “You were . . . loud.”
“Mmm. It was
wonderful.” Just to tease him, I add, “You did say you’d know the
next time—”
“So I did.” If
anything, his embarrassment intensifies.
I can’t believe he
really thinks I—well, maybe I can use it to my advantage. “You’d
better get used to it since you’re determined to be my shadow.
Privacy is overrated anyhow.”
“You’re mad, Jax.”
But he smiles.
Freshly washed, my
hair stands on end like down on a baby bird. I grimace at my
reflection and head for the kitchen-mate. Jael tracks me with his
eyes.
“You hungry? Don’t
think I’ll make a habit of this, but if you go clean up, I’ll make
us something to eat. Don’t just sit there. You’re crumbling all
over my couch.”
Maybe I can distract
him from the discussion he intends to have. It’s worth a shot
anyway. I can’t make him understand what I don’t even get
myself.
Jael slides to his
feet. “Right, you’ve persuaded me, but don’t imagine you’re off the
hook. We’ll talk about it over dinner.”
“The hell we will,” I
mutter.
I half expect him to
stride boldly into my bathroom, which offers the interesting
dilemma of what he’s going to wear when he’s done. Instead he lets
himself out, pausing to murmur, “I’m just next door.”
As if I’m likely to
go into panic mode at the prospect of being alone. Well, it
has been a while. Between sharing quarters
with Vel and wandering the crowded Gunnar camp, this is certainly a
change.
I look over the
options on the kitchen-mate and nearly drool. This thing can make
anything I want. Thousands of recipes both common and exotic, right
at my fingertips, and now I don’t know what I want.
Tapping away, I just
decide to conjure us a feast. Steamed fish and rice in spicy ginger
sauce, tissue-thin vegetables arrayed in a fan, and four different
desserts. I hope he likes choclaste. This gourmet unit even has
real wine in stock; forget the nasty synthetic stuff.
By the time I get
everything laid out, Jael’s back. I make a note to seal my door
since it’s apparently coded to admit anyone. He looks better, his
freshly washed hair gleaming like molten gold.
“What if I’m allergic
to fish?” he asks as he joins me at the small table near the
kitchen-mate.
I grin. “Good thing
this isn’t real fish.”
He knows as well as I
do that this is simulated from base organic, but the beauty of a
gourmet unit is that you can hardly taste the difference. These
days, only the elite know what it’s like to eat fresh fruits and
vegetables, and only throwbacks consume real flesh.
“Point.”
When there’s food
like this around instead of paste, you won’t find me letting it get
cold. I practically inhale mine, down two glasses of wine, and then
start eyeing the desserts before Jael cleans his plate. I settle on
a rich raspberry-filled truffle and nibble at it while he catches
up to me.
By tacit consent, we
shift to the sofa for the conversation he refuses to let slide. I
close my eyes and tilt my head back, hoping to elicit sympathy, but
this is Jael we’re talking about. Of course it doesn’t
work.
“What do you want to
know?” I ask with a sigh.
“What happened out
there?” He touches my cheek, forcing me to look at him.
“I don’t
know.”
“Make me understand,
Jax. If grimspace poses a danger to you, I need to know it. I’m
supposed to protect you from all threats, remember?”
I let out a long
breath. “I could . . . feel it. Don’t ask me how. It’s like I’m
part of grimspace when I’m not even jacked in. Doc started running
tests on me, before . . .” With a weary wave, I gloss over details
he already knows. “But he never came to any conclusions about what
makes me different. And now he has a lot of other stuff on his
plate.” Massive understatement.
Both his brows go up,
but I don’t glimpse the skepticism I dreaded. Jael doesn’t know the
worst of my unstable tendencies, however, so he isn’t likely to
dismiss this experience as a “delusions of grandeur” fantasy. I
relax a little.
“I’ve never heard of
anything like that,” he says at last. “You’re a fucking legend, you
know. Still jumping at your age. It’s inspiring.”
Mary, he makes it
sound like I’m a geriatric case, beyond the hope of all antiaging
treatments. I grit my teeth. Counting to ten doesn’t help.
“Well, you do all
right for someone who looks like he ought to be in wet naps,” I
tell him sweetly. “Do you shave yet, princess? I bet you couldn’t
grow a beard if you wanted one.”
He’s had enough of
the wine not to get riled up, more’s the pity. “You’ve got enough
chin hair for both of us.”
“Is that why you were
staring so hard at my ass when I went to the shower? Because it
hasn’t got any hair on it?” A flip response, not one I expect to
make him choke on his drink. “You were
looking!”
“Not on purpose,” he
protests. “Or rather, no more than any man would when confronted
with a naked woman. It’s practically against the law not to look.
They revoke your man membership if you play the gentleman too
often. In a way, I was paying you a compliment.”
“To be sure. So you
haven’t been guilty of ogling old ladies before?”
“You’re not old in
the traditional sense,” he says, tilting his head with a judicious
look. “Just for a jumper. You know.”
Of course I do. In my
first five years on the job, I attended the funerals of fifteen
classmates from the academy. After that, I stopped offering to
speak at their services. I swallowed my sorrows instead. That’s how
my nav-star legend came to be born. Not the party girl they all
supposed, or at least, not for the usual reasons.
Loss seeps out from
behind my mental barriers, old wounds, old pain adding to the fresh
one, a big jagged hole where March used to be. So many people,
gone. What Jael said is true—being the last one standing sometimes
does feel like a curse. Just like that, my
mood dips to low ebb.
I need to be
horizontal and buried in blankets. A band tightens across my chest,
burgeoning into an ache that threatens to close my throat. Mary
curse it, if I don’t get him out of here, I’m going to break down
right in front of him.
And I won’t have
that.
“There’s nothing you
can do, or need to do about what happened out there, Jael. It
doesn’t factor into protecting me. Doc figured out why I respond to
grimspace damage the way I do, and I know what to do about it.
Speaking of which, I’m due for a shot. Unless you just like
needles, I suggest you get on your way.”
“No,” he says
quietly. “Do your thing, but this conversation isn’t over.”
“The hell it’s not.
This is my room! And I don’t want you in it anymore.” I get up from
the sofa, and my hands shake as I draw the med kit out of my
bag.
I’m not sure I can
manage the treatment without hurting myself. So I close my eyes.
That helps a little, though I’m still millimeters away from losing
it. The hypo’s preset and automatic, so I just press it against my
wrist. A single hiss and it’s done. I push my breath out in what’s
meant as a sigh, but it comes out as a groan.
“Right,” he says,
low. “You pulled a spike out of my gut and saved my life. That
might not mean anything to you, but it’s worth something to me. I’m doing my best to be a
friend to you, and you act like you’ve never heard of such a thing.
A blind man could see you’re hurting, Jax, and I know damn well
why. It’s because of who we left behind.”
“Yeah.” My head
droops. I can’t look at him as the tears overflow, trickling down
my cheeks. “I’m pretty sure I’m dying of it, and I can’t bring
myself to care.”
He comes to me and
touches my cheek, featherlight. “Well, I do.”
