The Song of David(58)

And then Georgia opened a window, the window nearest my head, as if the emotions in the room had become stifling, and suddenly sitting there on the front porch, I could hear every word once more, and I listened as my friend struggled to put into words that which I could only ever describe with paint.

I’d told Georgia once that if I could paint her I would use every color. Blues and golds and whites and reds. Peach and cream and bronze and black. Black for me, because I wanted to leave my mark on her. My stamp on her. And I had, though not ever in the way I intended. My mind drifted to my son—who had looked a great deal like me, though I wouldn’t tell Henry. I hadn’t spent a single day of his life with him. And still, he looked like me.

“Hey, little man,” I whispered, wondering if he could hear me. “I miss you.” I tasted the same bittersweet tang on my tongue that always came with saying his name, but I said it all the same. “Keep an eye out for Tag, Eli. He acts tough, but I’m guessing he’s running scared.”

“I don’t want to leave.” Tag’s voice rang out behind me.

I jerked and cursed loudly, making Kathleen whimper in my arms.

Then I realized with a start that Millie had changed the cassette. It was just Tag’s voice coming through the window, nothing more, and I cursed again.





“I DON’T WANT to leave,” I moaned. We were standing on the front porch and it was cold, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready.

“Then don’t,” Millie said firmly. We’d been wrapped around each other all night, and it was messing with my willpower. I had the Santos fight in ten days, and fighting was the last thing on my mind. I needed to go home. I needed to sleep. I needed to get up early and hit the gym. But I didn’t want to leave.

“I’m afraid of the dark, so I guess I’ll have to wait until morning,” I whispered. I was trying to make her laugh, but somehow the words rang true and I winced, grateful that she couldn’t see me do so. But she was too attuned to the nuances in a person’s voice to miss it. She stiffened a little. I felt it, just a tremor that traveled through her arms and down to her hands resting on my chest.

“Are you really afraid of the dark?” she asked, and I allowed myself to get sidetracked once more.

“No, not really. It’s more tight spaces. Dark, tight spaces. I had asthma when I was a kid. I guess it’s the feeling of not being able to breathe, of feeling helpless. Being trapped.”

“I see. I won’t make you sleep with me in my coffin then.”

“That’s right . . . you’re a vampire. I forgot.” I smiled, and she heard the grin in my voice because she smiled with me.

“The darkness is huge, though. You don’t need to be afraid of the dark. Whenever you start feeling trapped or helpless, just close your eyes, and you have more space than you’ll ever need.”

I nodded and kissed her forehead because she was so earnest and sweet.

“Close your eyes. Come on, close your eyes,” she commanded.

I did, but immediately felt dizzy, disoriented, and I reached for her. My balance had been off lately, and I blamed it on lust.

“Don’t be scared.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m right here. I’m touching you, and you are safe.” She was enjoying this game.

“Go down.”

“What?” she asked.

“Your hands are on my chest,” I said.

“Yeah, they are.”

“Keep moving them down. I’ll tell you when to stop,” I demanded.

She burst out laughing, understanding dawning. “You have no idea how often I’ve used my blindness to “accidentally” feel someone up.”

“Really?” My voice rose in surprise.

“No. Not really. Now shhh!” she commanded. “I need to look at you a little.”

I swallowed as her hands slid across my chest and down my torso, her fingers brushing against the swells and valleys that made up my well-muscled abdomen. If it was possible, I felt more naked, more vulnerable than I’d ever felt with a woman, even though I wasn’t naked at all. The fact that she couldn’t see me made me more aware of the attention she paid to every detail. She slid her hands beneath my shirt, and I smiled into her hair. I was both ticklish and turned on.

“Your skin is smooth. But it’s bumpy too. I adore bumps, you know.”