Chapter 14 A Spoon for Your Thoughts
A Spoon for Your Thoughts
While I appreciated the view of Lucien emerging from the shower with a towel covering his lower half a short time later, I was far too tired to process the sight.
It appeared I was just as exhausted as he was, because the moment I stepped out of my own shower, I crawled into the bed and fell asleep in less than a minute, Lucien already deep in slumber, tucked under his own blankets.
I woke up a couple of hours later, however, to the sounds of pained grunts and heavy breathing.
At first, I was disoriented, wondering where I was and what the hell I was hearing.
When my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I saw the hotel room, I recalled we were in San Diego, after one hell of an eventful day, and that Lucien—the wolf who was now a werewolf who was a man before all that—was sleeping in the bed next to mine.
Or not, since the grunts grew louder, closer to yells now.
I pushed the fluffy duvet off me and stepped toward his bed. He was lying on his stomach, probably to avoid putting pressure on his wounded back, and I could see the sweat trickling down his spine where the duvet had slipped down.
“Lucien,” I said, and when he still grunted and began to shudder as well, I said louder, “Lucien!”
But Lucien was apparently deep in sleep, in what seemed to be a panic-inducing nightmare.
I recognized it for what it was, since I’d had those before too.
The uncontrollable trembling and sweat, the grunts and the pain, feeling as if you were frozen, unable to move, forced to relive your worst memories.
I put my bare knee on the bed—I was sleeping in a baggy white shirt I often used as pajamas—and tapped his shoulder, feeling his skin was unnaturally hot. “Lucien, you’re having a nightmare,” I said in a strong, loud voice, trying to be heard over his pained cries.
It seemed my voice wasn’t enough, though, so with a deep breath, I climbed fully on the bed and grabbed his hard, hot shoulders firmly, digging my nails into his skin. “Wake up, Lucien!” I yelled now, trying to shake him, but he was like an unmovable rock. “Come on, wake up!”
One moment, I was trying to shake him awake, and the next, in a disorienting blur, he was out of the bed and on his feet on the other side of it, staring at me with arctic-blue eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the room, his chest heaving rapidly, his dark sweatpants sticking to his sweaty skin.
His chest, in full sight, was perspiring as well.
I simply watched as he slowly registered what was happening and started regulating his breathing. He took a few deep breaths, wiping his sweaty forehead, and pushed his auburn curls back. After a few silent minutes, he finally breathed out a barely audible “Fuck.”
Seeing that he was better now, I asked, “Are you okay?”
He looked at me with a bewildered gaze and nodded. “Yes,” he said, voice rough from his grunts and yells. “Thank you for waking me up.”
“No worries,” I replied, frowning. “You should go take another shower before you return to bed. It’ll help you calm down.”
He nodded again, and without another glance, he walked to the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the shower start running, and I returned to my bed, heart still pounding from what had just happened.
I wondered what he’d dreamed about that made him go batshit crazy like this in his sleep. If it was a nightmare about a memory, like I assumed it was, I wondered what that memory could be.
Because ordinary sporadic nightmares normally didn’t cause such a reaction. This was something different. Trauma induced, I would even say.
Pulling the duvet over me, I closed my eyes and sighed.
Whatever it was, it was none of my business, and I didn’t want to pry.
If he wanted to share, he was more than welcome to, but I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.
Besides, I knew men were touchy about being vulnerable in front of others.
Or at least the men I knew were.
I tried to go back to sleep and give him space.
I heard the shower turning off, and a minute later, he walked out. I expected him to go back to his bed, but to my surprise he paused near mine and said quietly, in a now-clear voice, “Are you still awake?”
Tensing at the sudden question, I slowly sat up and said, “Yes.”
He was standing near the end of my bed, his gaze, even in the darkness, piercing mine. “Is it okay if I sleep in your bed tonight?” he suddenly asked.
I blinked a few times, trying to process the question.
Seeing I wasn’t responding, Lucien walked toward the side I was lying on and sat on my bed, much closer to me now. “When I slept next to you in my wolf form,” he said quietly, “it helped the nightmares go away.”
My heartbeat quickened as I remembered the night he spooned me in his wolf form. I’d had one of the best sleeps I’d ever had then, and it seemed he had liked it too.
But back then, I didn’t know he was a full-blooded, gorgeous Alpha male werewolf. This changed things.
“Please,” he croaked all of a sudden, his face obscured by the darkness but his eyes completely shattered. “Just tonight.”
The grief I’d seen earlier had returned to those eyes. Grief and even fear, as if he was terrified of dealing with whatever he was currently going through.
And when he looked at me like that, I could still see the wolf that he was. The wounded wolf who’d put his trust in me, a stranger, to make him better.
So I found myself nodding, murmuring softly, “All right.”
He let out a breath. “Thank you,” he said just as softly and rounded the bed to climb in on the other side.
Once we were both under the duvet, I debated with myself whether I should ask or not until I finally caved and said, “Do you need me to touch you?”
I could tell he was surprised by my question without even looking at him. He was quiet for a few long seconds, during which my heartbeat escalated exponentially, until he finally said, “I appreciate it, Drew, but being close to another person is good enough.”
A rush of disappointment and humiliation made me feel stupid. “A-All right, then,” I mumbled, rolling so my back was to him and he wouldn’t be able to see the hurt on my face.
But it seemed I couldn’t really hide it because I felt him shifting closer. “Hey,” he said, voice right behind me, “I didn’t mean . . . I . . .” He hesitated before he took a deep breath and said, “I thought you were asking out of pity.”
I shrugged, refusing to roll over. “Whatever, Lucien.” Shit, I sound too pissy.
When I felt his arm suddenly wrapping itself around my waist, I gasped.
I was about to tell him to go sleep on his side and so be it, but before I could, he slithered his other arm under my head and pressed his hard, naked chest against my back.
“I’m really happy you asked,” he whispered in my ear, causing involuntary shivers to run through my body.
“Thank you for letting me have this tonight.”
A sudden flare of panic made my heart race, and I found myself saying, “Only for tonight.”
His responding chuckle reverberated from his chest to my body, filling my belly with uncontrollable flutters. “As you wish.”
That night, as we lay curled against one another, I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
I thought having a man spooning me would leave me awake until morning.
But when I heard and felt his breaths evening out, it was as if I was put under a spell, because my eyes fluttered shut, and any tension I had felt left my body.
And just like when we slept together in his wolf form, it was the best sleep of my life.
Hotel Reveria’s breakfast was ridiculously delicious. It was so delicious, in fact, that I was tempted to buy bento boxes and pack some for later but stopped just short of making a spectacle out of myself.
“This is so effing tasty,” I told Lucien with a mouthful of hash browns.
He grinned. “I was really nitpicky about the food when the hotel was first picked. We shape-shifters are very particular when it comes to food.”
Swallowing the bite, I couldn’t help but smile back. “I would’ve thought wolves should have a wide palate.” I paused as a thought occurred to me. “You promised to answer some of my questions today.”
Lucien’s grin widened. “And I will,” he said, before his eyes glanced behind me and he frowned. “Later.”
I turned around and saw two men walking into the dining room.
One was sporting a three-piece suit that made him seem slick. His dark hair was smoothed back as meticulously as his mustache and beard were trimmed. His eyes, a pair of startling ruby orbs, stared straight at us.
Next to him, wearing more casual attire in trousers and a simple tee, was Chase.
I grew stiff and watched as the two stopped next to our table and, before Lucien or I could speak, sat down right next to us.
Lucien kept on eating as though he couldn’t be bothered, but I could tell he was tense. There was a tightness to his eyes, his jaw locked, and his whole body was rigid. I, too, was alert, though I didn’t hide it as well as him. I shifted my chair farther from my former friend.
Chase noted that, but his face remained in its impassive expression.
“Well,” the ruby-eyed stranger said, glancing leisurely between Lucien and me, his voice as crisp as his suit. “I must admit, Delterre, your hotel is quite comfortable.”
“This is precisely why Dr. Lane recommended this hotel to you,” Lucien said lightly, though his eyes were hard. He put down his fork and knife and leaned back. “I thought he told you I would call on you later today.”
Chase leaned forward, menace oozing out of him. “After you knocked me out, you do not get a say about anything, wolf,” he hissed, eyes flashing with rage. “You’re lucky it’s only us here and not the entire Bureau of Unregulated Movements’ elite unit coming after you.”
I had no idea what this bureau was, but from its title, I could safely assume this was some sort of law enforcement entity. And if it worked like the human police, with the elite unit being something like the FBI or CIA, only supernatural, that made shivers run down my spine.
Looking at Lucien, I saw him staring at Chase with a deep distaste he couldn’t quite hide. “You wanted to draw my blood by force for a spell,” he said, voice deep and quiet but carrying across the table clearly. “I believe that’s a far worse crime than what I’ve allegedly committed.”
Chase glowered, but the other man interrupted before he could.
“This is why we’re here alone, Alpha Delterre,” he said, looking at Lucien with a somewhat condescending expression.
“My colleague here was in the wrong for his momentary malpractice, just like you were by exposing your true nature to a human.” He glanced at me when he said human, scrunching his nose a little as if it was a degrading term.
“This does not excuse assaulting an ASS agent and leading us on a car chase all the way to San Diego.”
I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me. All three men whipped their heads toward me with confused frowns. I choked down a swell of laughter and pretended to cough. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, trying not to think about the ass agent sitting next to me. “Please continue.”
The prim man, whose name I had yet to learn, stared at me for one more moment, a look of disapproval on his face, before he returned his gaze to Lucien, who stared at me still, his eyes somewhat unfocused.
“What I would like to know, Alpha Delterre,” the man resumed, his high-and-mighty voice rising a notch, “is why did you go to such lengths to keep us at bay? We’ve been having such a good relationship for the past six months, after all . . .”
Lucien kept on staring at me, and I found myself unable to look away from him when he replied. “This has nothing to do with our working relationship, Avenor. I was merely waiting until I had the opportunity to speak to Drew here before I inevitably had to tell you.”
I couldn’t read Lucien’s expression. Something about his tone of voice had shifted. He was even tenser than before. It was as though he was trying to contain some emotion while also, evidently, overcome by it.
What this emotion was, however, I didn’t know.
Until Lucien spoke again, his voice tight, his face both angry and grim, and said, “Drew Colter is my Eteria.”