He was fascinated with what he'd accomplished, especially as he put his palm over her sternum and commanded her flesh to reknit itself: What do you know, her very skin and bone followed his will and she was once more as she had been.
Except better. Because she was useful to him now.
He reached to the side and cranked on the shower, the spray hitting her body and face, her eyes blinking against the cold rain, her hands batting at it pitifully.
How long did he wait now? he wondered. How long until he could see if he was one step closer to what was really going to sustain him?
As a wave of exhaustion crept up his spine and fogged out his brain, he slumped against the cupboards that ran under the sink. Kicking the door shut, he balanced his forearms on his knees and played witness to the whore flailing around.
So weak.
So fucking weak.
It should have been his Xhex. He should have done this to her and not some random, skank-ass human.
Putting his hands to his face, he hung his head as his elation washed out of him. This was not how it was supposed to be. This was not what he'd planned.
On the run. Hunted. Scrambling in the world.
What the hell was he going to do without his father.
Chapter Twenty-eight
While John waited for Xhex to respond to his question, he focused on the words he'd written, tracing them with his pen, darkening them as he passed over them again.
He probably shouldn't be making demands given the shape she was in, but he needed something back from her. If he was going to expose his blanket chest of not-so-hot, he couldn't be the only one getting that kind of naked.
He also really wanted to know what was doing with her, and she was the only one who was going to tell him.
As the silence droned on, all he could think of was. . . shit, she was shutting the door on him. Again. On one level it so wasn't a surprise and therefore shouldn't have mattered. God knew he'd been on the receiving end of her rejections plenty of times.
The reality was that it felt like another death for him to face--
"I saw you. Yesterday. "
Her voice yanked his head up. What? he mouthed.
"He kept me in that bedroom. I saw you. You came in and went to the bed. You left with a pillow. I was. . . beside you the whole time you were there. "
John's hand lifted to his cheek and she smiled a little. "Yes, I touched your face. "
Jesus Christ. . .
How, he mouthed.
"I'm not sure precisely how he does it. But that was the way he got me in the first place. We were all in that cave where Rehv was being kept in the colony. The symphaths had come in and Lash got me--it happened so damned fast. I was suddenly off my feet, being dragged out, but I couldn't fight and no one could hear me scream. It's like a force field. If you're inside, and you try to breach it, the shock is painful and quick--but it's more than aversion. There's a physicality to the barrier. " She lifted her palm and pushed at the air. "A weave. The strange thing is, though, you can have other people in the same space. Like when you came in. "
John was dimly aware that his hands hurt for some reason. Glancing down, he saw that he'd cranked them into fists and the pad was digging into his flesh. So was the Bic he'd been writing with.
Flipping to a new page he scribbled, I wish I'd known you were there. I would have done something. I swear I didn't know.
When she read what he wrote, she reached out and put her hand on his forearm. "I know. It's not your fault. "
Sure felt like it on his end. To have been right with her and not had a clue that she was--
Oh. Shit.
He wrote fast, then flashed, Did he come back. After we'd been there.