“Stay,” Reese said again, and it sounded like a question.
Tenny let out a deep breath, warm across Reese’s chest.
Eventually, sleep pulled him back under; his last thought was that it felt nice to have a heartbeat against his arm.
Forty-One
Fox had his father’s capacity for drink, which meant he could be near to passing out, but give him some strong coffee, a splash of cold water in his face, and a cigarette, and he could be fight-ready sober in less than an hour. He had enough at the party to get pleasantly loose and warm, but, while he could have ridden home, it was easier to stay late, have another drink, and find a dorm where he and Eden could crash.
She’d left scratches down his arms, but she’d been quiet and withdrawn after, cuddled up against his side in a way she didn’t normally go for.
He regarded her now, from his position sitting up against the headboard, her face tense down on the pillow beside him, her brows drawn together even in sleep. Her fingers would curl every so often, slow to uncurl. The pearly, pre-dawn light caught on her lashes as they flickered. She was dreaming – having nightmares, more like.
They’d celebrated the downfall of the mayor last night, but Eden hadn’t looked very celebratory, hand wrapped tight around her glass, her smiles fleeting, and her gaze distracted. She was still worried about the missing girls, he knew; the two from Knoxville adding to the three for whom she was already searching.
Slowly, silently, Fox slipped out of bed, tugged on last night’s clothes, grabbed his smokes, and went outside to watch the sun come up.
He wasn’t the only one who’d had that idea, apparently. A slender figure draped in a blanket sat on top of one of the picnic tables, the smoke from his cigarette just visible in the rapidly-lightening blue of early morning.
Fox knew it was Tenny before he approached and joined him, but he wasn’t lying when he said, “I didn’t expect to find you out here.”Wrapped in a blanket, he didn’t add.
Now that he was closer, he could see it wasn’t just the blanket. Under it, Tenny wore sweats and a thin white t-shirt. He was barefoot, for some ungodly reason, and his hair was a rumpled mess.
His expression, when he regarded Fox with the barest glance, was drawn, and raw, and troubled. He looked his age, for once, and like a real boy rather than a highly-skilled, highly-trained government assassin.
There were several observations Fox could have made aloud:
You disappeared in back awfully early last night.
Reese disappeared, too.
You need a shower.
He opened his mouth to say something milder, but Tenny spoke first. His voice was rusty, like he had a sore throat.
“When I was fifteen, I grew about a foot, and the handlers decided I was ready to add seduction to my repertoire.”
“Fifteen is young,” Fox said, observationally, without inflection. Whatever Tenny was working up the nerve to say, he knew there could be no rushing it.
“People like young. And I have blue eyes, and prominent cheekbones, and a soft mouth,” he said, equally flat. Detached. “They brought people in. Teachers. Probably they were escorts, I don’t know. A woman and a man. They taught me what to do. In bed and out of it.”
“Seduction is a valuable tool of the trade. It allows closeness, without all the blood.”
“No less messy, though.”
“No.”
“I was good at it.Skilled,” he corrected. “I become skilled at everything I attempt.”
“I’ve noticed. Including denying yourself something you want badly.”
Tenny took a long drag off his cigarette, and his hand started to shake. He made a face; sniffed hard, and it sounded like he’d been doing that for a while. “Sex is a skill like any other, and it serves its purposes. It even provides physical pleasure in the moment. It’s a natural urge; a bodily function.”
“But,” Fox prompted.
Another drag, and then he flicked the cigarette away onto the pavement. “I’ve never…” he whispered.
“Cared?”
