Blood Kiss - Ward J. R. (чтение книг .txt) 📗

And what do you know, he went right back to staring at her.

The root of his problem, apart from the orgasms he’d had in the shower, was the nape of her neck.

That skin right there had to be as soft as the stuff on her foot.

Had to be.

Shifting in his seat, he surreptitiously dropped his hand under the table and rearranged himself. Damn it. He really had to reel this shit in.

And yet even as his stare went back to Tohr and the bomb talk, he had a fantasy of getting out of his chair, going up behind her, and running his lips across the pale stretch between her hairline and the collar of that loose white shirt—

“Craeg?”

“What?” he squeaked to Tohr. Clearing his voice, he tried again in a more manly tone. “I mean, what.”

“Come up here and walk us through all this.”

Craeg glanced down. And wondered exactly what kind of a tent show he was going to give everybody if he got to his feet. Big top. Three ring. Barnum & Bailey. Yup.

And then he felt Paradise look at him—and his cock kicked hard enough to make his hips jump.

Right. He was pretty sure that was not the kind of detonation the professor had in mind.

“Craeg?”

As an awkward pause ground things to a halt in the classroom, Paradise braced herself and glanced over her shoulder.

She had been achingly aware of where Craeg had chosen to sit the entire class, to the point that it was almost like she had a compact open and had angled the mirror just so she could watch him watch the teacher. Which was nuts. She was pretty sure, given his Not You, Not Now speech from the night before, that he wasn’t giving her a second thought—so it seemed particularly ridiculous to waste even a nanosecond on the guy that wasn’t related to training.

Besides, it wasn’t like he’d done anything to bring notice to himself.

Not so with the other trainees. Boone had asked a lot of questions—starting with, “Why can’t I use my laptop to take notes?” To which the Brother Tohrment had replied, “Because the tap-tapping of a keyboard makes me want to get my shotgun. Do you feel like having a cranial leak tonight?” And culminating about two seconds ago with another inquiry that, frankly, helped the class.

Boone was the smart one.

Axe just sat by himself, hands steepled, brows down, not writing a thing—but the guy’s dark aura meant that even if he didn’t say much, you couldn’t help knowing he was in the room. Novo didn’t talk much either, but when she did, everyone listened. And Peyton, yes, Peyton cracked the occasional joke.

Yet it was Craeg, silent, brooding Craeg, who was the one she was tuned in to.

And p.s., she couldn’t figure out why in the hell he wasn’t getting up.

It was more than a lack of verticality, actually. He was sitting there like a deer in the headlights, staring at the blackboard like he’d forgotten how to rise out of a chair.

“Craeg?” Tohr prompted. “Have you separated from reality? Having a little vacay on me?”

Peyton got to his feet. “Lemme give it a shot,” he said, scooting out and heading around behind the counter of chemicals to the blackboard. As he picked up a piece of chalk like it was a dead spider, he glanced at the Brother. “I thought this stuff was outlawed after the turn of the century?”

“You want me to write using your face instead?” Tohr drawled.

“Are you allowed to say that to students?”

“You a good enough fighter to get me to stop?”

Peyton shook his head. “Nope. Not even close.”

“Smart answer, son. You’re going to do well.” Tohr clapped him on the back. “Why don’t you save your shy little buddy back there and show us what you know.”

Paradise looked down again at what she’d written in her notebook. Back at the beginning of the night, it had been hard to walk into the break room where everyone gathered and try to act natural around Craeg. He, on the other hand, had seemed totally nonplussed by her appearance or anyone else’s—he’d made little eye contact with anyone, and said three words tops.

It had been about what she’d expected. And yet considering the amount of energy she needed to put in to just breathing normally around him, it had seemed unfair.

Back online, she told herself. She needed to concentrate on the training stuff. It was not only appropriate, more productive, and the reason she was in the room—it was also less likely to make her go insane.

She mostly succeeded at the goal.

Two hours later, they were allowed to get up, stretch their legs, and hit the loo. She had intended to walk down to the ladies’ locker room by herself, but Novo fell into step with her.

“Mind if I ask you something?” the female said as she pushed the door open and held it for Paradise to go in first. “It’s personal.”

“Ah … sure.” She picked one of the five stalls, de-pants’d it and hit the seat—and tried not to focus on the fact that she and a relative stranger were about to pee in the same place. “What is it?”

You got this, she told her bladder.

Novo naturally had no problem. The female probably had no problem with anything.

“You ever do females?”

Paradise whipped her head toward the stall wall. Her first thought? Crap, might as well do up my pants. We’re going nowhere after that one.

“Did I shock you?” the female said with a laugh before she flushed.

There was the sound of a metal panel opening and then the running of water.

“Hello?” Novo prompted.

“Ah…” Paradise looked around as if maybe the peach metal stall walls or the white ceiling or the pale gray floor would help her out.

“So that would be a no.” There was another laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

For a moment, Paradise thought about trying to front just to keep up with the coolness Novo seemed to have in spades. But similar to getting distracted in class, that was not why she was here.

“Actually, I haven’t done anyone.”

“Yeah, I figured that, too.”

Paradise frowned. “So why did you ask?”

“I like being right.”

Staring at the gray tile at her feet, Paradise thought, What the hell. “But you do? Females, that is.”

“In the past. And males. I love who I love. The bits don’t matter to me.”

“Wow.”

Novo’s voice got sharp. “There’s nothing wrong with that, you know.”

“No, I’m not … I’m not criticizing or judging. I just think…”

“That’s dirty and wrong, right.”

Paradise thought about all the restrictions on her because she was an aristocrat. And then imagined what it would be like to simply be who and what she was, without excuses or compromises.

“No,” she said. “I think that is really amazing.”

And what do you know, on that note, she got her own job done. After she flushed, she opened the panel and was surprised, given the silence, that the female was still by the sinks.

Her face was wary, like she wanted to assess Paradise’s affect.

Paradise met those intense teal eyes without hesitation as she went over and washed her hands in warm water with soap that smelled like lemon.

“In fact, I envy you,” she found herself murmuring as she checked her reflection in the mirror.

No makeup and fluorescent lights were not a good combo when you hadn’t slept for almost forty-eight hours—and had gone through organized torture.

“Why are you any different?” the female asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“If you like girls.”

“Oh, no.” She thought of her response to Craeg. And then enjoyed a couple of mental snapshots of his hand pumping under that sheet. “Yeah, no. I’m into males.”

Novo shrugged and straightened. “So it still stands. Why are you any different?”

Paradise stared at her reflection, and thought about her bloodline. Her father. “Long, boring story.”

“Long stories that people don’t want to talk about are never the boring ones.”

At the change in tone, Paradise shifted her eyes over. Novo was looking toward the door out of the bathroom, her strong body strung tight, her hands squeezing the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles were white.