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they'd done in the foyer, things had seemed a little weird. More so now that
Nathan knew about it.
"And I thought you guys were going to drive until dawn. What happened to
that?"
"Well, I just likeOhio somuch, I thought we would really be missing out if we
didn't stop for the night in the purgatory of theMidwest ." Max coughed to get
rid of the tightness in his throat. "We had to stop. Bella's sick."
"Sick? Is it serious?" There was a rustling sound, indicating Nathan had put
his hand over the receiver. It didn't mask his words when he said, to Carrie,
Max presumed, "Max says Bella is sick."
"It's nothing serious." He raised his voice to recapture Nathan's attention.
"She just doesn't do well in the car. I thought it would be better to air the
vehicle out and try to make up the time tomorrow night."
There was muffled conferring on the other end before Nathan returned. "Carrie
said try ginger ale to settle her stomach."
"An M.D. and that's the best she's got?" He supposed it beat cleaning up the
car again. "I hope she didn't pay too much for med school."
"Yeah, well" Nathan's voice died out,then returned. "Was there anything
else?"
"Ah, no.Just wanted to know if you've heard from any other Movement, if you
had a heads-up for me, that kind of thing."What a lame excuse. It had been
four hours since he'd seen them; what were the chances they knew anything
else? He was as transparent as the windshield he'd had to clean at their last
stop.
There was a noncommittal grunt from Nathan. "We haven't been at it long.
Carrie will speak to Cyrus tomorrow, and I hope to know more then."
Max whistled. "She's going to see Cyrus? How do you feel about that?"
"The only way I can." What he meant, Max knew, was he couldn't elaborate
because Carrie is within earshot.
"Give her a curfew."Not that Max didn't trust Carrie, but she had major
boundary issues where her old sire was concerned. "I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah.Goodbye, Max."
Inside, Bella was still in the bathroom. Max went to the door and knocked
softly. "Are you okay in there?"
Her answer may have been muffled by the door, but he still heard the tears in
her voice. "I need to be alone."
The hell she did. "Carrie thought some ginger ale would help. Do you want me
to go out and get you some? I mean, I've got time to kill. It's not going to
be light for at least six hours."
"No. I will be fine. I just need to get myself& under control." There was a
hesitant sniffle.
He leaned his forehead against the door. Part of him wanted to order her to
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stop being such a big baby. Another part wanted badly to comfort her. She
wasn't a fragile, wilting flower. She was Bella, the ice princess, the stone
cold assassin, the hottest, sexiest, meanest woman he'd ever had the great
good fortune to fuck. She hadn't cried when he'd stitched up her slashed leg
sans local anesthetic in Nathan's living room. Something had to be seriously
bothering her to create such a reaction, and he had a feeling he knew exactly
what that something was.
She didn't like being helpless. More specifically, she didn't like being
helped.
Max knew the feeling well. People who spent their lives or afterlives, as the
case may be alone liked to believe they were islands unto themselves. If they
needed someone once, they might need someone again, and that someone might not
be there a second time. Max had been through that pain. From the way she was
acting, he knew Bella had, too.
Still, he couldn't leave her crying on the bathroom floor. "Do you want
anything out of your bag?Pajamas or anything?"
Stupid thing to ask.All the question did wasbring painfully arousing memories
to mind. Bella didn't wear pajamas. It was almost unbelievable that she wore
underwear.
"I do not have any." She gave another sniff. "May I borrow your shirt?"
Max threw a glance to his duffel bag on the bed. "Yeah, I'll get you one."
"No. May I have the one you are wearing?" she requested, timidly, if she
could manage such a humble state.
He plucked the fabric between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it away
from his chest, frowning at it. She was sick, he reminded himself, so it
wasn't his place to argue."Yeah, sure."
The door opened a crack as he peeled the garment over his head. Bella's naked
arm snaked out to grab it, and the door closed again.
Shaking his head, Max went to his makeshift bed next to the wall. He shucked
his jeans and lay down, wincing as his muscles, cramped from the long drive,
adjusted to the hard floor. He pulled the sheet over his lower half no use
having her think he was insensitive enough to proposition her after her
barf-fest and tried to convince his body that going to sleep at this early
hour was a good idea. He'd need to be well rested once they reached the
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