Eighth Grave After Dark

I knew the drill. She stepped outside the room while I removed my pants and my panties and draped the sheet over me. Then I lay down on the bed and called her back in. Reyes never took his eyes off me. His dark gaze was both reassuring and unsettling. He stared at me from underneath his lashes, his temper held in check by his own feelings of helplessness. I was right there with him.

Katherine the Midwife pushed my legs farther apart and did her thing. The lubricant was freezing and I jumped. “Sorry, hon. Let’s see what’s going on.”

But a barrage of thoughts and images crashed into me as I lay there. The thought of Reyes dragging a hellhound, a fucking hellhound, across the border to try to kill it sank in. That and the fact that someone, or something was trying to kill me in addition to said hellhounds. I wanted to continue to hate Denise forever and ever, but her loneliness—I’d felt it. I’d been feeling it for months. I just lived in a constant state of denial. And the business with the Loehrs. What had I done? What would my actions do to my marriage? Would Reyes forgive me?

It all came bubbling to the surface at the worst possible time. Two fingers. All the way up.

I bit down, covered my eyes, held my breath, but the emotions swirling inside me, the stress of living with a dozen hellhounds just waiting to rip me to shreds—no, waiting to rip Beep to shreds—and being so utterly helpless to do anything about it were getting to me. That combined with everything else, mostly Reyes and his antics and me and my antics, wrenched a sob from my throat.

“It’s okay, honey,” Katherine the Midwife said. “I’m almost finished. You’re dilated, but just barely. You’re about a two right now.”

She cleaned me up and pulled down the sheet, but it was too late. I covered my face with both hands and fought tooth and nail to hold back the emotions overwhelming me.

“This is a very emotional time, sweetheart,” she said, patting my knee.

I felt the bed dip, felt the heat of Reyes near me, felt his fingers push a lock of hair from my face, and cried some more. It was like I’d turned on a faucet and broke the handle. I couldn’t turn it back off again.

“I’ll leave you two alone, but everything looks good. No damage that I can see.”

I heard the door click closed as she left, and then Reyes pulled me into his arms.

“Freaking whore-mones,” I said, and he held me tight as deep, cleansing sobs overtook me.

* * *

When I woke up, it was dark outside. I lay there listening to the sound of Reyes’s breathing, deep and even, and I hoped beyond hope that he was asleep.

“I’m not,” he said.

“What time is it?”

“It’s only nine. You need to go back to sleep.”

“I will if you will.”

“Can’t.”

I rose onto an elbow and tried to make out his features in the dark. Moonlight streamed in from the open curtains and shimmered in his incredible eyes.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“I don’t know, Dutch. I just can’t. I can’t make myself.”

“You can’t allow yourself. That’s what this is about, but eight months? Really? How did I not know?”

“Because you sleep like you’re comatose. And you snore.”

“You can’t watch me every second of the day. What good are you if something happens and you’re too exhausted to fight?”

“I know. Trust me. I’m not doing it on purpose. I just can’t sleep.”

I frowned, worried about him. “Why were you talking with Angel? What’s going on with you two?”

“He’s doing a little reconnaissance for me.”

“What kind of reconnaissance? You aren’t putting him in any danger, are you?”

“No.” He bent to nuzzle my ear. It sent warm shivers cascading over my shoulders.

“Okay, then tell me exactly what you’re doing.”

“No.” He trailed tiny, hot kisses down my neck.

“Tell me or we are never having sex again.”

He smiled behind a particularly sensual kiss where my pulse beat. “I’ll put the tux back on.”

My lids drifted shut with the thought as a ripple of desire shuddered through me. “Nope. You have to tell me first or that’s it. We may as well call the lawyer now because it ain’t happening.”

“I’ll do that thing with my tongue.”

My gawd, I loved the thing with his tongue. I had to stay strong. “Nope,” I said, my voice as weak as my resolve. “Not even then.”

“Katherine the Midwife left the lube. We could try anal.”

I stifled a giggle. “We are not trying anal.” I rolled away from him and onto my feet. “I need a shower anyway. I just want you to know that whatever happens from here on out is your own fault.”

“Really?” he asked, his expression full of interest.

“I tried to warn you. Don’t blame me when this becomes a knock-down drag-out war.”

“And just what do you plan on doing?”

“You’ll see. And, mark my words, you will not be happy.” I grabbed my robe from the closet with the sobbing tax attorney and left.

“Just remember,” he said as I closed the door. “I was a general in hell. War is my middle name.”

Oh yeah. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Hot water rushed over my skin, easing the aches from the afternoon’s events. I’d already begun to heal.