Kane carried her into the stall, and held her under the spray, though surely it must have been cold for him as well.
“Hang on, Nadya. I’m going to take care of you. Just stay with me…”
A good ten miles away, in the bolt-hole under the crappy garage, Callum got up for the night by getting up to his feet from the floor. He was fully clothed and his boots were laced tight, but then he’d slept fully clothed with said boots on. He’d also slept sitting up.
Or not slept, as the case was.
Turning his head, he looked down the long, narrow space. At the end of the lineup of cold-weather coats, the vampire was in the same position he’d been in at the base of the stairs. They hadn’t said a thing to each other during the daylight hours. Then again, Callum’s mouth had done enough before they’d gone their separate ways, hadn’t it.
Time to wakey-wakey, he thought as the male didn’t rouse from his chin-on-chest prop-up.
“It’s dark now, vampire,” he announced in what he intended to be a brisk voice. And what do you know, he did a pretty good impression of briskness.
When there was no response, he walked down and stood over the male. “Are you alive?”
Well. If the guy was dead, this was most unexpected, and surely not his fault. Coitus-related deaths typically occurred at the moment oforgasm, the pressure of the pleasure blowing a gasket in the heart—or directly afterward, when the exertion overtaxed a lax cardiac muscle. But ten hours later?
“Hello?”
The utter stillness in the vampire was eerie. He did not appear to be breathing, and he sure as hell wasn’t moving. But his eyes… they were in fact open, little slits under the lashes allowing sight, and blinking at a nearly imperceptible rate.
He was focused over on the shower, which was weird. As far as Callum was aware, there were absolutely no Chippendales can-can’ing in the corner. No pinups, either. Nothing but tile, really.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
It was a long moment before that face turned his way, and the male’s expression was remote. “Who died there.”
With a shake of the head, because clearly he didn’t hear that right, Callum said, “Excuse me?”
“There.” The vampire’s arm lifted and he pointed to the shower. “Who was the male who died there.”
Callum felt the blood drain from his face. “No one.”
“You lie. I can see him. He’s hanging from the showerhead by a brown leather belt. His hair is dark blond and he has an earring in one ear. Who is he.”
It was a while before Callum could find his voice. “No one.”
“So that’s what the blow job was about.” The vampire looked over. “You wanted to do something to wipe that memory away. Did it work?”
“How…”
“Did it?”
“You’re lying. You don’t see shit.” Callum walked up and back, and then made a show of inspecting one of the parkas hanging on a hook. “And I’m going to go check on your friend and that female back at my hunting cabin.”
“Guess it didn’t work, then.”
Where the hell was all the air in this place, Callum wondered as he pulled at the loose collar of his flannel shirt.
“Are you volunteering for another try, vampire?” he heard himself toss back. “I don’t think you have the guts, frankly.”
The other male shifted his boots under him and rose up to his full height. “Tell me who he was really, and I’ll give you my answer of how I see him.”
“I’m not interested in your answer.”
“Then why’d you ask.”
With every back and forth, they were taking a step toward each other, the distance disappearing until they were standing toe-to-toe. The vampire was slightly taller, so Callum had to tilt his head back to continue meeting those eyes.