"Cormia? That you?" He sat up, pulling the duvet over his legs.

Her blond head poked through, her body staying out in the hall.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She shook her head. In the Old Language she said, "If it would not offend, may I please enter your quarters, your grace?"

"Of course. And you don't have to be formal."

She slipped inside and closed the door. She seemed so fragile wrapped in all that white cloth, more like a young, instead of a female who had been through her change.

"What's wrong?"

Instead of answering him, she stayed silent, eyes downcast, arms holding herself.

"Cormia, talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

She bowed low and spoke from that position. "Your grace, I am-"

"No formality. Please." He started to shift off the bed, but then realized he didn't have his leg on. He eased back into place, not sure how she would feel knowing he was missing a piece of his body. "Just talk to me. What do you need?"

She cleared her throat. "I am your mate, am I not?"

"Um… yeah."

"So should I not be staying with you in your chamber?"

His brows shot up. "I thought it would be better for you to have your own room."

"Oh."

He frowned. Surely she didn't want to stay with him.

As silence drifted on, he thought, well, evidently she did.

He felt awkward as hell as he said, "I guess, if you want… you can stay here. I mean, we could get another bed brought in."

"What is wrong with the one you have?"

She wanted to sleep with him? Why-Oh, right,

"Cormia, you don't have to worry about the Directrix or any of the others thinking that you're not doing your duty. No one is going to know what you do here."

Or didn't do, as was the case.

"It is not that. The wind… at least, I believe it to be the wind… it batters the house, does it not?"

"Well, yeah, it is kind of stormy right now. But we're surrounded by a boatload of stone."

As he waited for her to continue and she didn't, it came to him. Man, he was a clueless bastard, wasn't he? He'd taken her out of the only environment she'd ever known and dropped her in a whole new world. She was rattled by things he took as normal. How could she feel safe when she didn't know which sounds were dangerous and which were not?

"Listen, you want to stay here? That's fine with me." He looked around, trying to figure out where to roll in a cot. "There's plenty of room for a rollaway."

"The bed is good for me."

"Yeah, I'll sleep on the cot."

"Why?"

"Because I'd prefer not to sleep on the floor." There was a stretch over between two of the windows. He could have Fritz-

"But the bed is big enough for us both."

Phury slowly turned his head toward her. Then blinked. "Ah… yeah."

"We shall share it." Her eyes were still lowered, but there was an intriguing hint of strength in her voice. "And I shall then at least be able to tell them that I lay beside you."

Oh, so that was it. "Okay."

She nodded and went around to the opposite side. After she slid in between the sheets, she curled up into a ball and faced him. Which was a surprise. As was the fact that she didn't squeeze her eyes shut and feign sleep.

Phury stamped out his blunt and figured he'd do them both a favor and sleep on top of the covers. But he needed to hit the loo before he crashed.

Crap.

Well, she was going to have to know about his leg sooner or later.

He moved the duvet aside, reached for his cane, and stood up. As he heard her breath go in on a hiss and felt her stare, he thought, God, she must be horrified. As a Chosen, she was used to perfection.

"Got no lower leg." Well, duh. "It's not a problem, though."

Provided his prosthesis was fitted correctly and functioning well.

"I'll be right back." It was a relief to shut the bathroom door, and he spent longer than he usually did brushing his teeth and flossing and using the toilet. When he started to rearrange the Q-tips and the Motrin in the medicine cabinet, he knew he had to go back out.

He opened the door.

She was right where she'd been before, all the way over on the edge of the bed, facing him with her eyes open.

As he came across the room, he wished she'd stop looking at him. Especially as he stretched out on top of the duvet and the robe didn't cover his leg. Flipping the corner of the comforter over to hide himself, he tried to get settled.

This was not going to work. He was cold with just his lower half covered.

With a quick glance he measured the stretch of mattress between them. Big as a soccer field. So much space she might as well have been in a different room.

"I'm going to turn the light out."

When her head went up and down on the pillow, he turned off the lamp… and slid under the covers.

In the black void he lay rigidly beside her. Jesus… He'd never slept with anyone before. Well, there had been that time during Bella's needing with V and Butch, but that was because they'd all passed out. Besides, they were males, whereas… well, Cormia was definitely not male.

He took a deep breath. Yeah, her jasmine scent was a dead giveaway.

Closing his eyes, he was willing to bet she was just as stiff and awkward as he was. Man, this was going to be a long day. He so should have followed through on the cot idea.

Chapter Forty-six

"Vishous, could you stop grinning like that? You're beginning to freak me out."

V flipped Butch the bird across the mansion's kitchen table and went back to his coffee. Night was coming soon, which meant in… twenty-eight minutes… he was free.

The second he was out, he was going to go to Jane's house and pull some romantic shit. He wasn't sure what, maybe like flowers or something. Well, flowers and him installing that security system. 'Cause nothing said lovin' like a shitload of motion detectors.

God, he was whipped. For real.

She'd told him she was getting home around nine, so he figured he'd doll up her bedroom a little and then have a visit with her until midnight.

Except that only left him five hours to hunt.

Butch rustled the sports section around, leaned over to kiss Marissa on the shoulder, then went back to the CCJ. In response she glanced up from her paperwork for Safe Place, rubbed his arm, and went back to what she was doing. She had a fresh bite mark on her neck and the glow of a very satisfied female in her face.

V winced and looked down into his coffee, stroking his goatee. He and Jane were never going to have that, he thought, because they weren't ever going to live together. Even if he was off from the Brotherhood, he couldn't crash at her place during daylight hours, because of the sun thing and her coming here wasn't an option for different exposure reasons: There was enough risk with her knowing that the race existed. More contact, more details, more time around the Brotherhood was not smart or safe.

As V cradled his mug and leaned back in the chair, he worried about the future. He and Jane were good together, but the forced separations were going to wear on them. He could already feel a strain as he contemplated the good-bye that would have to happen tonight.

He wanted her as close as his own skin twenty-four/seven. Her voice over the phone, while better than nothing, wasn't enough to truly satisfy him. But what were their other options?

There was another rustle of paper as Butch manhandled the CCJ. Christ, he had horrible newspaper etiquette, always mashing the pages and being rough with the creases. It was the same with magazines. Butch didn't so much read them as gnaw on them with his hands.

In the process of terrorizing an article on spring training, Butch glanced over at Marissa again, and V knew the two were going to take off soon-but not because they were finished with their coffee.