Chapter 34 - Body Talk

In the breaking light of the following dawn, Flint reclined on his very much worse-for-the-wear bed (really, they’d be lucky if it lasted Goldie’s Prowl) and stroked his woman’s hair as she slept. He should be sleeping, too, if he had any sense. But he didn’t. He’d lost it all in the war this switch had waged on his heart without even trying. And now he’d woken up just as the sky was starting to turn from black to blue and found he couldn’t go back to sleep, he was so grateful to even be alive to see the day.

And that didn’t even include how things had changed between him and Goldie. Claimed or not, the two of them had declared their love over and over, all night long, and he had no doubts. He knew she didn’t want anyone but him, and vice versa. Claiming could wait. His bear gave a grumbling protest. No longer than it must.

Goldie mumbled and squirmed in her sleep, rolling slightly away so that the blanket shifted and revealed one perfectly-shaped breast to his view. Flint’s dick twitched because, well, damn, but he let it be. She’d be awake and on him soon enough. His switch needed her rest as well and nobody, including him, was going to interrupt it.

The whole night had been insane, one bout of acrobatic sex after another, Goldie barely letting either one of them catch their breath before she’d take hold of his body and slip him somewhere warm and wonderful once again. He’d been on pleasure overload for hours and wasn’t sure he was ever coming down. Even the scratch on Flint’s chest, red with itchy blisters, that Vlade had left using only the tip of his bloodblade, barely bothered Flint at all.

He and Goldie had only stopped fucking twice: once for Flint to get them water and a snack, and once for him to wrap the vampire carcass at the foot of the bed in an old blanket. He’d almost stepped on Skinny Jeans’ beef jerky ass more than once, and it was really starting to make a mess on the carpet. Flint would be in here for hours next week trying to get the smell of burnt pine needles out. He smirked. Worth it.

On the street outside, Flint heard the familiar sound of Bryce’s Jeep, his brother cranking the tunes in spite of the early hour as he pulled into the driveway and parked. As quickly and quietly as he could Flint rose from the bed and pulled on a pair of shorts, relieved when Goldie’s sleeping form didn’t budge and her breathing stayed slow and even.

He closed the half-blasted bedroom door behind him, padding to the front door just as Bryce pushed it open, the kid’s surprised eyes going to Flint’s finger at his lips. Then Bryce’s face split into a grin and he stage-whispered, “So that’s why you didn’t want to talk last night. You were getting hammered. Well tough shit, big brother. Hungover or not, I need to grab a shower before I go back to the hospital. Jameson’s there pretending to ask Darby questions about the accident since it happened in his territory, but if anyone digs too deep they’ll find out he’s got no business there. I gotta get back.”

Flint growled. “I need you to do something. Wait here.” He walked back to the bedroom, away from Bryce’s impatient glare. Goldie was still sleeping. Flint strode to the blanket at the foot of the bed and lifted it gingerly. Bones clattered in the folds and a thin film of ash rained down on the carpet. Flint sighed.

He took the bundle back out to Bryce and thrust it into his brother’s arms. “Get rid of this. Somewhere good. We don’t want anyone finding it.”

Bryce’s nose wrinkled and he retched. “Dude, no! This shit stinks like a vampire’s assflaps. What did you fucking drink, man?”

Flint rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t getting drunk. We got jumped by vampires and Goldie Undid one. I’ll tell you about it when her Prowl is over. Right now you gotta go.”

He edged Bryce towards the front door, his younger brother blustering and protesting. “What?! You got Goldie in the back?! I mean, not... ‘in the back’... like that,” Bryce stammered, his eyes drifting towards the hallway that led to their bedrooms. “But dude, I bet during their Prowl is the best time to ask for the freaky shit.”

That did it. “Put the blanket down for a sec.”

Bryce did as Flint told him. “Why? What now?”

“I didn’t want you to get the carpet dirty.” Without another word Flint punched Bryce in the jaw, harder than he had in years, even at sparring. Fuck, that felt good. Righteous, even. Brother or not brother, nobody was going to say a sideways word about his woman.

Bryce staggered back three steps then fell on his ass, his ruddy cheeks going deep red as he glared at Flint, ready to go off. Flint held a finger up to his lips. If Bryce woke Goldie the cub was gonna get tagged again. His brother glared at Flint and angry-whispered. “What the hell, man? I didn’t mean anything by it.”

No doubt. But he’d think twice next time, wouldn’t he? Flint extended his hand to help Bryce up, then spun his brother to the front door, picking the blanket full of bones up as they went. “Be a good boy and maybe you’ll get heartbound one day, too. For now, get the fuck out.”

Bryce stood on the front porch holding his stinking bundle of bloodsucker bones, working his reddening jaw, a look of confused dismay on his face. “But you don’t even live here anymore!” Flint shut the door in his brother’s face and locked it. Duty called.

He practically sprinted to the kitchen, throwing together a tray of bagels, juice, and fresh fruit for breakfast and carrying it back to the bedroom. Perfect timing. One of Goldie’s slender arms was reaching to his side of the bed as if searching for him. When she didn’t find him her head rose to look, and Flint’s heart kicked into overdrive. With her mussed hair and sleep-creased cheek she was even sexier than when she’d been screaming beneath him, above him, as the little spoon... He shook his head to get it back on track. “Breakfast, Pumpkin.”

Goldie licked her lips and pushed herself onto all fours, crawling to the edge of the bed where she could kiss his taut belly under the tray and give his cock a squeeze through his shorts. Her sleepy voice was gravelly, like a woman well-fucked, and he could hear her sly grin through the words. “I know what I want to eat.”

Flint backed away, a school-marm expression on his face. “Hands to yourself, switch. We need to fuel this Prowl.”

Regret seized him when Goldie sat back, her beautiful breasts bouncing, and pulled the blanket almost all the way up to her pouting lower lip. She heaved a put-upon sigh and met his gaze. “Fine. I don’t want you running out of energy when you’re nailing me to the bed.”

The naughty glint in her eyes when Flint groaned in response told him she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He fucking loved it. Loved being wrapped around her little finger because she was so sweetly considerate of where she put her hands. “Clean your plate, Pumpkin, and I’ll nail you to every wall in the house.”

Her cheeks went pink and her mouth curved in that shy smile he loved so much. Flint smiled. Everything they’d done to each other, said to each other, and she still felt sheepish around him? Sweet little Pumpkin didn’t even know. By the time this was over, if he had anything to say about it, they’d know each other as intimately as two people could. They were made for each other just as surely as Goldie’s Resonant was crafted to make her bloodlust sing. And he wanted to be there for every tune, the harmony to her fierce, magical melody.

Flint placed the tray on the bed between them, deeply satisfied when Goldie dug into her cream cheese-topped bagel with ravenous enthusiasm. He started talking, hoping that if he kept her distracted from sex she might actually eat a decent meal. “We need to talk a little shop. It’s not safe to stay here. That fucker Vlade doesn’t seem like the type to back off for long.”

Goldie shifted on the bed, not meeting his eyes. “I know you’re right, but I still don’t know what to do about Darby. I can’t leave her. I mean, if she even wants me around her anymore.”

The blowout the two sisters had had yesterday at the hospital had been loud enough to draw the attention of everyone on the hall, but Flint hadn’t been able to distinguish all the words. He could guess what it was about, though. “You’re going to have to tell her the whole story. All of it.”

The glass of orange juice Goldie had been raising to her mouth froze two inches from her lips. “Why would I want to do that? She’ll think I’m crazier than she already does.”

Flint shook his head. “It’ll be fine. We should move both of you up to Resperanza, just to be safe. There are a bunch of extra rooms.”

Goldie was looking at him in confusion. “Wait, Resperanza is the name of the house you took me to?”

Flint nodded as he swallowed a mouthful of fruit. “The Covens protect the switches, like a secret hideout or something. Probably keep the stalker off the scent, too.”

Goldie’s eyebrows twitched, her attention caught. Flint tried to sweeten the pot. “Darby’s probably a switch, too. We get her into Resperanza, she’ll be safe, prepared, and before long maybe she’ll light up.”

But far from looking convinced, Goldie’s face crumbled, her half-eaten bagel forgotten in her limp grip. “But that’s the thing. I don’t know for sure if Darby is my sister.”

Flint stared. She didn’t think he was going to buy that roommate shit again, did she? But much to his relief she took another bite, swallowed, and began to explain. “I told you my dad used to get drunk and fling accusations around. Well, his favorite one to hiss at Mama when Darby was little and he thought I couldn’t hear was that she wasn’t his daughter.”

Goldie rolled her eyes, looking far more like Darby than she usually did, and shook her head as she continued. “Which is stupid, of course. The only reason he could even say it is because Darby is the spitting image of our mother. Didn’t get one single trait from him that I’ve ever seen, except a loud mouth and hot temper. I’m the one who looked like him, except for my blue eyes like Mama’s and Darby’s.” Goldie’s face screwed up with worry. “What if she’s only my half-sister and that makes her not a switch at all? What if all we do is put her in more danger?”

Flint popped the last grape in his mouth and shrugged. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire? If anyone can handle it, Darby can.”

He watched Goldie consider his words as she chewed the last of her bagel, then glanced down at the fruit still piled high. Without a word she picked up her dish and dumped its contents onto Flint’s empty plate, then set it down and grinned at him. “I cleaned my plate.”

Flint laughed at that, rising from the bed to set the tray on his dresser and drop his shorts to the floor. “Lucky for you I’ve got this hammer.”