Chapter 15 Mattie
MATTIE
Mattie stood back, hands on her hips, surveying their handiwork.
The room was finally starting to look like somewhere two people could actually live together.
The two beds had been pushed together against the far wall, creating a sleeping surface that was luxuriously spacious compared to the narrow single they'd been sharing.
A nightstand was created from a filing cabinet they had brought from the lab below, and on top of it sat a desk lamp.
It wasn't much, and it was far from homey or cozy, but it was their little sanctuary in this hellhole of an island.
A place of safety.
A place of love.
"What do you think?" Dimitri asked, stepping back to stand beside her. "Better?"
"It's nice." She leaned into him. "If I close one eye and squint really hard, it almost looks like a real bedroom in a real home."
"It's getting there." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Give me a few more days, and I'll find us some proper furniture. Dave told me that there is a lot of discarded old furniture and artwork in the mansion's basement. Maybe I will ask him to get us some."
She turned to look at him. "Are you having those sorts of conversations with Dave? You told me that they are like one computer brain."
"Not exactly. The surprising thing I found is that Dave likes it when I engage them in conversation.
In a way, they are like a very smart child, and they mostly answer my questions truthfully.
It was long before the explosions, and we somehow got talking about the contemporary decor of the mansion.
Dave said that it was decorated in the style of a Mediterranean villa before, and that all the quality furniture and artwork that used to be in there was now stored in the basement.
I bet there is a treasure trove of stuff in there. "
Mattie felt her good mood evaporate with every word coming out of Dimitri's mouth. "Are you insane? Don't even think about it."
He looked surprised. "Why?"
"Do you really want them to have a reason to accuse you of stealing?"
"I won't be stealing if Dave allows me to take stuff."
"Those things do not belong to Dave, and when it is discovered that someone took them, do you think they are going to blame Dave for it? They will come after you."
The same could be said about her transfer to the lab, but at least that couldn't be framed as stealing.
He turned to face her and wrapped his arms around her. "You worry too much, my love. But if it upsets you so much, I won't do it."
"I don't worry too much. I've been on this damn island much longer than you. I don't claim to know much, but I know enough to know that it's each person for himself, and no one will stand up for you and assume responsibility when the shit hits the fan. They'll feed you to the dogs."
Dimitri was giving her that annoying look that was half condescending and half pitying, and she felt like smacking his arm and telling him to separate the beds because she was not sleeping with him tonight.
Why had she allowed herself to get so worked up?
Was she overwhelmed by this step they had taken?
Was it fear that this sanctuary they had created for themselves was going to be taken away from them?
"I'm sorry." She let out a breath. "It's just that this is precious to me and I'm afraid of losing it over something as trivial as a picture to put on the wall, or a chest of drawers. We have all we need here."
He chuckled. "We have two beds and a filing cabinet, but you are right. Who needs anything more?"
They'd moved the beds at least four times, trying different arrangements against different walls, searching for the configuration that felt right.
Dimitri had done most of the heavy lifting, and by 'most,' she meant all of it.
He'd picked up the metal bed frames like they weighed nothing, maneuvering them around the small space with supernatural ease.
It was hard to ignore the fact that he wasn't human anymore.
She'd watched him fussing with the bedding, smoothing out wrinkles in the sheets, adjusting the blankets until they lay perfectly even, all mundane activities that shouldn't have stood out in any way, and they had not. But what had stood out was how effortless it had all been for Dimitri.
He hadn't even broken a sweat.
He was changing in ways both subtle and profound, while she was still just...human. Ordinary. Even less than that because she was damaged.
No.
She wasn't going to think like that. Not tonight. Tonight, they had finally said those most important words to each other, and those three words had transformed everything and nothing. It was just a truth that both of them had known for days but had been too afraid to verbalize.
It was a big deal.
Dimitri walked over to the combined beds, fluffed the two pillows, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come here." He grinned and patted the spot beside him.
That cocky grin did things to her.
It made her knees weak, and her heart race, and her body remember all the ways Dimitri had touched her, all the pleasure he'd given her, all the promises implicit in that gorgeous, devastating smile.
Was it her imagination, or was he becoming more handsome by the day?
She studied him as she crossed the room, cataloging the changes she'd noticed over the past few days.
His jaw seemed a little more defined, the angles sharper and more striking.
His neck had thickened slightly, the muscles there more pronounced.
His eyes, those beautiful eyes that had first caught her attention, seemed brighter now, more vivid, like someone had turned up the intensity of their color.
And his hair was fuller, shinier, the kind of hair that belonged in a shampoo commercial.
The transformation was subtle enough that she convinced herself she was imagining it.
It couldn't be the transition into immortality causing all these changes. It had only been a few days. As the saying went, beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and her loving eyes were seeing him as more handsome because her heart had finally admitted to loving him.
That was a nicer explanation, and she decided to believe it.
The muscle in her left leg spasmed without warning just as she reached the bed, and she stumbled forward. Moving faster than was humanly possible, Dimitri caught her, and that cocky smile vanished.
"Are you okay?" he asked, worry creasing his forehead.
"I'm fine," she said sharply, frustration bleeding through despite her best efforts. "Just a cramp. It happens after I stay on my feet for too long without stretching."
He guided her to the bed, setting her down with infinite gentleness. But she didn't want to be handled like something fragile. She'd spent too many years being treated like a broken thing that might shatter with a push of a finger.
"Let's take care of that cramp." He sat on the bed next to her, lifted her legs onto his lap, and started working at the tight muscles of her calves.
"It's okay, Dimitri. You don't have to. I can…"
"I know you can, but I want to do this." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact.
She tried to pull her legs away, but he held them firmly, not roughly but with enough strength that she couldn't break free without a real struggle.
And she wasn't sure she wanted to struggle.
The massage felt good, his skilled fingers finding the knots of tension and working them loose as if he had studied physical therapy and practiced it half his life.
He reached for the waistband of her pants and pulled.
"What are you doing?"
"A massage is not a massage with fabric in the way." Before she could object, he'd tugged her pants down past her knees and then off completely, exposing her legs to the lamplight and to his gaze.
Mattie wanted to die.
He'd seen her naked before, and he'd even seen her ruined legs, but for some reason, having him look at them now felt worse because he was becoming even more gorgeous, more perfect.
Her legs were a roadmap of damage—scars crisscrossing the skin in pale, raised lines, muscles that had healed unevenly, patches where the texture was wrong, where the flesh had been burned or cut or crushed and had knit itself back together in ways that were functional but ugly.
His fingers continued their work, kneading the knotted muscle of her left calf, the one that gave her the most trouble.
He didn't flinch from the uneven skin, didn't hesitate when his hands passed over the worst of the scarring.
His touch remained steady, professional almost, like a doctor treating a patient.
The tears came without warning, welling up in her eyes before she could stop them. She blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall, keeping her face turned away so he wouldn't see her meltdown.
"Why are you crying?" Dimitri asked quietly. "Does it hurt?"
She froze. He wasn't looking at her face. How could he know?
"I'm not crying."
"I can smell your tears."
The words hung in the air between them, another reminder of what he was becoming. Enhanced senses. The ability to detect things no human should be able to detect. Her tears were unshed but present, and they were betraying her emotions despite her best efforts to hide them.
One more way he was leaving her behind.
"Mattie." His hands stilled on her leg. "Talk to me. Please."
She stared at the ceiling, unable to meet his eyes. "Massaging my legs must have the opposite effect on you than it would with a woman who was not damaged. It's a turn-off."
The words came out flat, stripped of emotion, even though they were churning beneath the surface. She'd learned long ago that stating the ugly truth while pretending it wasn't a big deal was better, because it at least saved her a pity fest.
Dimitri snorted. "As if."
He took her hand and placed it firmly over the front of his jeans.