“Zombie tool?” Sid tried to picture the planting blade Dante seemed to have an aversion to. “Why do you call it that?”
“It looks like a zombie knife from the street.”
“Oh.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” Sid’s heavy lids tried too close. He fought them, but it was a battle he was ultimately going to lose.
“You should sleep,” Dante said.
“I know.”
“Are you comfortable?”
“No.”
Dante came back and crouched where Sid could see him. His hands hovered over Sid’s knees. He eyed them, then seemed to make a decision, and he let them continue their path.
His warm, dry palms were better than a TENS machine. Sid focused on the sensation, letting it wash over him and fight the lingering pain in his nerves while Dante’s thumbs rubbed his kneecaps like they had his cheekbones in the kitchen.Seriously. This bloke has magic thumbs. Who knew?
Did Dante know?Tell him.
Sid bit his tongue.
Dante leaned closer, concern still marring his face. “What do you need?”
“A new body.”
“I’d give you mine if I could— Wow, that sounds dirty. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Shame,” Sid quipped. Then he shook his head. “I must be confusing the fuck out of you right now.”
“No more than usual.”
“What does that mean?”
“You want to talk about this now?”
Sid shrugged. “No. I mean, yeah, I do, but I don’t think I can make it better.”
“Make what better? I already told you last night was my fault.” Dante tapped Sid’s knees in a restless rhythm that belied his calm exterior. “We don’t need to talk about it at all, like, ever. Just forget it.”
I don’t want to forget it.
Ican’tforget it.
But the words to explain himself were beyond Sid.
Dante lifted his hands from Sid’s knees.
Grieving the loss of his sorcerous touch, Sid dragged his legs onto the couch and lay down, ignoring the pins and needles in his neck and shoulders as he carefully pillowed his head on a cushion with a cactus on it. Everything hurt, inside and out, and he still felt sick. More than that, though, he felt fucking stupid. Dante was right: forgetting about last night was the best option, theonlyoption if Sid didn’t want to crack open the last of his dignity. But letting Dante believe he was anything less than the hottest kiss Sid ever had made him want to stick his head in the oven.
“Dante?”
“Yeah?” Dante brought his gaze back from the window—he’d looked away while Sid had wrestled his body into position.
How does he know what to do each and every time?Sid couldn’t fathom this man who painted himself as evil and selfish.It makes no fucking sense.