“Well, we can’t have that. Although…”
“What?” he asked tiredly. He kept having flashes—little images of Laurent, even though he was trying as hard as he could to put the vampire out of his mind. He just wanted to go to bed—maybe with a good night’s sleep he could put all this behind him.
Maybe.
“I was just wondering—why can’t you quit the pack? It’s not good for you, Paul.
And the way that Angel treats you—”
“Angel treats me fine,” Paul said firmly. “And I can’t leave, Lucia. Once you’re in the Locas, you’re in for life until you get busted out or die.” “That’s what I’m afraid of.” She shook her head. “I just wish you didn’t have to run with them. You could be a lone wolf—your father is.”
“And look where it got him. No friends, no status—all he’s got is this shop.”
“He’s got you and me,” she said quietly. “He has love, Paul. I don’t think you’re ever going to find that in the Locas. Not with someone who will love you back.”
Paul shook his head. “I’m too tired. I can’t talk about this right now.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” She patted his shoulder. “I just worry about you, that’s all. Go to bed and get some rest.”
“I will.” He gave her a quick, one-armed hug. “Thanks for everything. You saved me tonight, you know.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Your vampire saved you—whoever he is.” Her gaze was piercing and Paul had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew exactly how Laurent had saved him.
“Yeah, well…” He shook his head. “Uh, good night.”
“Good night, Paulito.” She was still looking at him that way as he turned to climb the stairs that led to his apartment. Paul wondered how much she guessed about what he had done that night.
And how he could keep anyone else from guessing the same thing.
*
He woke up from an extremely vivid dream. It was of Laurent—he was talking to an older female vampire who looked a lot like him. At least, she had the same pale green eyes and creamy skin, although Paul got the idea that she was considerably older.
Why he thought that he didn’t know—she didn’t look it. But there was an air of maternal authority about her, the same kind that Lucia had, that made him think maybe she was Laurent’s mother.
In the dream Laurent was arguing with her and then asking for something—trying to get some kind of information from the other vamp, though Paul couldn’t quite figure out what it was. The dream kept fading in and out—like a radio station that wouldn’t tune in right. It was damn annoying because he had a feeling that whatever Laurent was saying was important. And besides, he wanted to see the other man again, even if only in his dreams. Which is the only fucking way I’ll be seeing him from now on, Paul thought, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat up in bed. Got to get him out of my head.
Got to forget last night ever happened.
A glance at the digital clock beside his narrow twin bed showed that it was almost seven o’clock at night. Dios, I must have been really tired. Of course, being poisoned, being healed and having your heart ripped out took a lot out of a guy. Paul pushed the thought aside, irritated with himself. Hadn’t he just decided to put the events of the night before out of his head? It was time to get going if he was going to make the challenge with Chulo. He stretched experimentally and was glad to find that he was feeling well—better than well, actually—fucking fantastic and ready to fight. Nothing hurt or burned or ached and he was bursting with energy. He was going to decimate Chulo and show him where he belonged—at the bottom of the pack. That fucking pendejo isn’t going to know what hit him.
Smiling grimly to himself, Paul swung his legs out of bed. Scratching his chest, he made his way to the postage stamp-sized bathroom that was barely big enough to hold a toilet and a tiny shower stall. Twisting the hot water tap, he waited for a minute until the water was hot before jumping into the shower. The hot water felt wonderful sluicing over his hair and down his naked body—like a warm hand caressing him all over. Paul sighed with pleasure as he reached for the soap. He didn’t know what was different about him today but everything felt better—sharper, somehow. It was as though someone had dialed all his senses to maximum and left him humming like one of the custom choppers he built in the shop.
As he soaped himself all over, he tried to picture the impending challenge. No doubt Chulo would expect him to be either dead or so messed up by the Wolf’s Bane that he would be completely unable to fight. Proving him wrong was going to be a fucking pleasure. I can just see the look on that cabron ’s face when he realizes I’m going to take him down…