She pulled the sheets up around her shoulders. "How do you know you're not getting them pregnant? Or can't humans and vampires..."
"Half-breeds are rare, but it does happen. And it's obvious to me when the females are fertile. I can smell it. If they are, or are close, I don't have sex with them, even using protection. My children, when I have them, will be born in safety in my world. And I will love their mother."
Mary's eyes skipped away, becoming fixed, haunted. He looked up to see what she was staring at. It was the Madonna and Child painting over the dresser.
"I'm glad you told me," she finally said. "But why does it have to be with strangers? Why can you be with someone you... Actually, don't answer that. It's none of my business."
"I'd rather be with you, Mary. Not being inside of you is... torture. I want you so badly I can't stand it." He blew out his breath. "But can you honestly tell me that you want me now? Although... hell, even if you did, there's still something else. The way you go to my head, it's like I told you before. I'm scared of losing control. You affect me differently than other females do."
There was another long silence. She broke it.
"Tell me again that you're miserable we're not sleeping together," she said dryly.
"I am utterly miserable. Achy. Hard all the time. Distracted and pissed off."
"Good." She laughed a little. "Boy, I'm a bitch, aren't I?"
"Not at all."
The room grew quiet. Eventually he lay down and curled onto his side, resting his head on his arm.
She sighed. "I don't expect you to sleep on the floor now."
"It's better this way."
"For chrissakes, Rhage, get up here."
His voice dropped to a low growl. "If I come back to that bed, there's no way I'm not going for that sweet spot between your legs. And it wouldn't be just my hands and my tongue this time. It would be right back to where we were. My body on top of yours, every thick inch of me desperate to get into you."
As he caught the luscious scent of her arousal, the air between them surged with sex. And inside his body, he turned back into a live wire.
"Mary, I'd better go. I'll come back after you're asleep."
He left before she could utter another word. As the door shut behind him, he sagged against the wall in the corridor. Being out of the room helped. It was harder to catch her scent that way.
He heard a laugh and looked over to see Phury sauntering down the corridor.
"You look strung out, Hollywood. As well as really goddamned naked."
Rhage covered himself with his hands. "I don't know how you can take it."
The brother stopped, swirling the mug of hot cider he carried. "Take what?"
"The celibacy."
"Don't tell me your female won't have you?"
"That's not the problem."
"So why you out in this hall standing at full attention?"
"I, ah, don't want to hurt her."
Phury looked taken aback. "You're a big one, but you've never injured a female. At least not that I've known."
"No, it's just... I want her so badly, I'm... I'm juiced, man."
Phury's yellow eyes narrowed. "You talking about your beast?"
Rhage looked away. "Yeah."
The whistle that came out of the brother was grim. "Well... hell, you'd better take care of yourself. You want to pay her respect, that's fine. But you keep yourself on the level or you're really going to hurt her, you feel me? Find a fight, find some other females if you have to, but you make sure you're calm. And if you need some red smoke, you come to me. I'll give you some of my O-Zs, no problem."
Rhage took a deep breath. "I'll pass on the smokes right now. But can I borrow some sweats and a pair of Nikes? I'm going to try to run myself into exhaustion."
Phury clapped him on the back. "Come on, my brother. I'm more than happy to cover your ass."
Chapter Twenty-five
As the afternoon's light waned through the forest, O backed the Toro up, avoiding the pile of earth he'd created with it.
"You ready for the pipes?" U yelled out.
"Yeah. Drop one down. Let's see how it fits."
A composite-metal corrugated sewer pipe about three feet in diameter and seven feet long was lowered into the hole so it stood on its end. The thing fit perfectly.
"Let's get the other two in there," O said.
Twenty minutes later the three pipe sections were lined up. Using the Dingo, O pushed the dirt in while two other lessers held the pipes in place.
"Looking good," U said, walking around. "Looking damn good. But how do we get the civilians in and out?"
"Harness system." O shut off the Dingo and went over to peer inside one of the pipes. "You can buy them for rock climbing at Dick's Sporting Goods. We're strong enough to lift the civilians even if they're deadweight, and they'll be drugged, in pain, or exhausted, so they won't fight much."
"This was a great idea," U murmured. "But how do we cap them?"
"The lids will be metal mesh with a weight on the center."
O glanced up, seeing blue sky. "How long do you think until the roof's on?"
"We'll get the last wall up right now. Then all we have to do is erect the rafters and drop in the skylights. The shingling won't take long, and the clapboards are already on the three walls we have now. I'll move the tools in here, get a table, and we're rolling tomorrow night."
"We'll have the shades for the skylights by then?"
"Yeah. And they're retractable so you'll be able to open and lower them."
Man, those things were going to be handy. A little sunlight was the best maid a lesser could have. She comes in, flashes through the space, and presto!, no more vampire debris.
O nodded to his truck. "I'll take the Toro back to the rental place. You need anything from town?"
"Nope. We're good."
On the way into Caldwell, with the piece of machinery in the bed of the F-150, O should have been in a good mood. The building was going well. His squadron was accepting his leadership. Mr. X hadn't brought up the Betas again. But instead he just felt... dead. And wasn't that ironic as hell for someone who hadn't been alive for three years?
He'd been like this once before.
Back in Sioux City, before he'd become a lesser, he'd hated his life. He'd squeaked through high school, and there'd been no money to send him to even a community college, so his career options had been limited. Working as a bouncer had called into service his size and mean streak, but it was only moderately amusing: The drunks didn't tend to fight back, and coldcocking the unconscious was no more engaging than beating a cow.
The only good thing had been meeting Jennifer. She'd saved him from the mindless tedium, and he'd loved her for it. She was drama, excitement, and unpredictability in the flat landscape of life. And whenever he'd go into one of his rages, she'd hit him right back, even though she was smaller and bled easier than he did. He'd never figured out whether she threw her punches because she was too dumb to know he'd always win in the end or if it was because she was so used to being beaten by her father. Either way, stupidity or habit, he took everything she could give him and then pounded her into the ground. Tending to her afterward, when his fire was out, had given him the most tender moments of his life.
But like all good things, she had come to an end. God, he missed her. She'd been the only one who understood how love and hate beat side by side in the chambers of his heart, the only one who could handle both at the same time. Thinking of her long, dark hair and her lean body, he missed her so much he could almost feel her beside him.
As he came into Caldwell proper, he thought of the prostitute he'd bought the other morning. She'd ended up giving him what he'd needed after all, though she'd had to trade her life to do it. And while he drove along now, he scanned the sidewalks, looking for another release. Unfortunately, brunettes were harder to come by than blondes in the skin trade. Maybe he could buy a wig and tell the whores to put it on.
O thought about the number of people he'd taken out. The first person he'd killed had been in self-defense. The second had been a mistake. The third had been in cold blood. So by the time he'd come to the East Coast, running from the law, he'd known a little about death.
Back then, with Jennifer just gone, the pain in his chest had been a living thing, a mad dog that needed to stretch its legs before it destroyed him. Falling into the Society had been a miracle. It had saved him from tortured rootlessness, giving him a focus and a purpose and an outlet for the agony.