He bit his lip nervously, and stopped soon as he realized what he was doing it. “What… happened?” He asked, as if trying to figure out how to handle this quandary that he found himself in. I was his employee after all. Sort of. He seemed to be reassessing whether finding us both wearing clothes meant what he had originally thought it had meant.
“Don’t say that, sweet-cheeks. You’ll make me think I wasn’t memorable.” Pretending to sulk, I got off him and the bed and went to the sink to get him a glass of water. While I was at it I yanked open my blackout curtains. He flinched at the sudden rush of daylight.
“It’s a good job I already know I wasn’t disappointing,” I said brightly. “Because someone was a very naughty boy last night.” I pranced over to him with an over-exaggerated swing in my hips and handed him the glass. “I must admit you took me quite by surprise, Agent Storm.”
He had the grace to blush ever so slightly. He took a sip of water, and then swallowed hard. “What happened?”
I opened my eyes wide. “You still don’t remember?”
“Not quite,” he confirmed. He grimaced and then gulped down the entire glass of water.
“Headache?” I asked, unsurprised.
“What happened?” he repeated in a firm voice, attempting to reclaim the authority that he thought he had lost last night.
I leaned back against my sofa and crossed my arms over my chest. “You tell me. I found you completely trashed in a bar. Boy, was the barman pleased when I turned up to drag your carcass home with me. He said he’d been worried you are about to turn belligerent, but he and I both knew you were well past that.”
“I’m never belligerent,” Storm murmured darkly, the confused look on his face testament to the fact that he was not remembering any of this. “And I never drink.”
“Last night you did. So much that you decided to pick a fight with a pack of law-abiding werewolves who were noisily and yet harmlessly celebrating their stag do, as the barman told it.”
“So we didn’t…?” He looked meaningfully at the bed.
I took pity on him and confirmed, “No, we didn’t. I don’t take advantage of drunk men, no matter how cute they are.”
He looked surprised at my words, and more than a little annoyed. “I wasn’t drunk,” he muttered.
“I beg to differ. So, do you want to tell me what is up with you?”
“Nothing,” he said rather darkly.
“Come on, Storm. Something is up with you. I dreamed of you getting into a bar fight a couple of times this past week so clearly it’s been coming for a while. Aren’t you lucky I turned up?”
“I don’t get into bar fights.”
“That’s what I said to myself when I had the dreams. Special Agent Constantine Storm does not get into bar fights. This dream must not know what it’s talking about. Then there I was on Oxford Street at 3:00 am last night, happily prancing home, when I heard your caterwauling cry for help.”
“I didn’t cry for help!”
“Not with
your voice you didn’t. But with your spirit you did. Very very loudly.”
“I doubt it,” he muttered.
“And had I not already been out on the town of my own accord, I would be telling you off right now, because some of us have a Sunday job to get to. So now I really must ask you why you were ready to get into fisticuffs with eleven werewolves…?”
Storm did not respond. He had tipped his head back against my bed’s headboard and his eyes were screwed shut as if the world was too excruciating to face. This was not like him at all, and I was rather enjoying telling Mr Efficient Organized Ultra-Capable Super Agent off for once.
“Eleven,” I said loudly, making him wince. “And you without your gear. Not even a cagenet. Where is the sense in that, I ask you?”
He looked at me through squinty eyes as if the daylight pouring in through the window behind me was painful. “What else did you dream?” he asked. His brow had furrowed with suspicion. Which is very interesting indeed. Perfect Mr Storm was hiding something.
Beastie took this moment to leap back onto the bed and make her way onto Storm’s lap as if she owned it. She walked around and around on his thighs, patting with her paws. Storm looked at her with horror, as if sure she was going to dig her claws into him at any second. I wouldn’t have put it past her. She might be an angelic-looking pure white fluff ball, but her grumpy little face said everything you needed to know about what she was really thinking.
She seemed to deem Storm a worthy cushion because she settled down on top of him, making him look even more horrified. Chuckling at his predicament, I removed the empty water glass from his hand and dumped it into the sink.
“You mean what else have I dreamed of about to you?” I purred, fluttering my eyelashes. “Are you sure you want to know? I wouldn’t want to make you blush. Or maybe I would…”