Page 78 of Vampire's Choice
“No.” He frowned. “But I can feel them, in a sense. And I can follow that feeling to where you are. Again, when I focus. It seems like something I have to practice, and I haven’t had much interest in that. Until recently.”
Her toes curled in her shoes. Stop being stupid and romantic, she told herself. Near death experiences make you mushy.
“You’re not tired. You don’t allow yourself to be tired.” He took her back to her earlier admission, and lifted his free hand to touch her face. “You fought well and you’re strong. But if you need a moment to recoup your strength, I’ll carry you.”
“How long is a moment?”
The silver in his sclera glinted, sending a ripple of light over the black blood irises. Rather than answering, he picked her up off the alley floor, cradling her in his arms. “You smell like human urine.”
“You could have been chivalrous and put your shirt down for me to sit on.”
“I like this shirt.”
She wouldn’t chuckle. It would hurt. She rested her head on his chest as he took to the air. Looking down, she saw the homeless man rouse. He lifted a tentative hand and she smiled at him. She imagined what he was seeing, Merc’s wings against a city-lit sky, her hair streaming over her shoulders and Merc’s arm.
“You didn’t cloak.”
“A person like him deserves hope. I may not be an angel, but he can look at me and believe they exist.”
Then they were high above everything. Up here she could hold onto better emotions, but the despairing feelings were chasing her. As the blood restored her, the frustration welled up, needing an outlet.
She curled her fingers into a claw against his chest. “Can you find us a place where I can do some screaming? Maybe beat my fists against something I can’t hurt?” A dead tree, a big rock buried halfway in the ground. She’d broken her knuckles against several at home when this anger came upon her. The boon of vampirism was the agonizing pain could swallow up the emotions and make them manageable, before the injury conveniently healed itself.
Merc landed them in an empty field, nothing around but patches of wood and distant houses. As he let her move away from him, Ruth stripped her ruined shirt from her throat, and stretched her arms out to the sky. Looking at the stars, she turned in circles, making them wheel above her, or seem that way, even though she was the one turning. She didn’t run, scream, punch and hurt things like she’d expected. That was probably good. Her throat wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t open and bleeding. She didn’t want to reverse that.
She wanted something different. A challenge, something that reinforced what Merc had told her. That she was strong. Mighty. Not just in the ways that her world thought mattered.
She knew what would do it. But she’d think it through for a few minutes. She didn’t want him to think it was an impulsive gesture. Plus, he would take some convincing. He’d already proven that when they’d broached the topic before.
“Going bra-only will draw some attention at the Circus.” Plus it was stained with her blood. She’d worn a flesh-colored one tonight with her outfit. “I might have to dash through a store, grab a top and leave some money on the counter.”
In answer, he took off his shirt, pulling it free of his wings in a practiced move, and handed it to her. “No more urine and garbage stains around,” he noted.
She suppressed a smile, enjoying the ripple of muscles. Studying the hemmed slits in the shirt’s back, she wondered if Charlie handled the alteration. Picturing Merc with a needle and thread, or curled over a sewing machine, was too mindboggling. She’d ask another time. “Why do you and Marcellus bother with a shirt at all?”
“One less thing to conjure when we have to make the wings disappear from public view. But it’s an annoyance and another reason he prefers Legion wear. When I’m alone, I tend not to wear a shirt, either.”
“Can’t say I object.” She saw the surprise in his eyes. “No one flirts with you, do they?”
“Most consider it inadvisable.”
She held the shirt in her hands, feeling his warmth. When she pulled it on, she liked the teasing touch of air where the wing slits were. Maybe he’d let her keep it, even if he liked it.
Time to throw it out there and see what happened. “You’re always hungry, Merc. That’s got to be kind of miserable. I want you to feed on me. The way we discussed.”
She’d startled him, but he recovered, his eyes narrowing. “Hunger is not as miserable as the alternative. Many go through life hungry without letting it change their course, their goals or ambitions.”
“Like who?”
“Super models.”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean it, Merc. Please. I need…I want something that reinforced what you said. What I know inside me. I am fucking strong. I’m capable of not just being cared for. I can care for someone else, in a way that most can’t. I do have that strength.”
“And if you’re wrong? If it drains you? You were badly wounded only moments ago.”
“Your blood is healing me.” Remarkably fast, compared to her normal healing rate, what she would have expected with only the homeless man’s blood. “Worst case scenario, I’m weak and tired for a little while. I’ll double up on blood packs at the Circus. It’s not going to kill me. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“You believe it can’t kill you because a vampire has never tried it before.”