In the Blood [ON HOLD]

"Truth is Often Terrible"

Charlie wasn't happy, exactly, that he had come storming back. But there had been a strange kind of relief when she had heard the frantic pounding on the door. An odd satisfaction when he had put his hands on her shoulders, lowering his head to look her in the eye and make sure she understood him.

He wanted her to understand him.

Part of her knew that was just ridiculous conjecture. Remi Robicheaux was not the kind of man anyone understood, nor did he need them to.

Still... when she'd finally gotten him to explain his actions tonight, she had been struck by the feeling that all he'd wanted was for her to understand who he was, what he was... and maybe how he'd come to be.

Now she was in his lap, his hands warm on her arms, keeping her from falling over backwards. Her heart was throwing itself against the backs of her ribs, and her lips tingled from the force of his kiss.

His pupils were dilated, and his bottom lip had a dark pink line in it where she'd bitten him.

Remi's grip on her arms tightened and he pulled her back into him, but she turned her head at the last moment and he fell still, mouth light on the edge of her jaw.

Her insides were trembling and she desperately wanted to turn her head and kiss him until she no longer cared that he killed people, that he hurt people.

But she couldn't.

That little voice deep inside of her refused to be silent, warning her of what could happen were she to continue with him like this. Warning how it would eat away at the foundations of her soul.

"I think you should go," she whispered past a too-tight throat, repeating what she'd said before he'd kissed her.

Remi tensed under her, but she couldn't decide if it was with shock or anger. His eyes gave away nothing when she turned her head to look at him.

"You should go," she repeated a third time. She needed him to go.

Because he was very warm and very solid, and her body ached with the memory of him. An experience made more miserable by the fact that he was very present and very willing, right here in front of her.

"What have you been thinking these past couple days?" he asked, voice quiet as hers.

Charlie blinked, startled from her train of thought. 

He must have seen the question on her face. "You said this is all fucking nuts, because you're sitting here with someone who's sunk more bodies in the bayou than you've met. Then you said you've been thinking these past few days," he said, wrapping a tendril of her hair around his finger. "You never finished the sentence."

Because she hadn't even wanted to start saying it.

He stopped playing with her hair, hand moving down to cup her chin.

Sometimes she wondered if he realized how often he touched her. Sometimes she wondered why she didn't tell him to stop.

His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, like that would break some magic seal and force her to pour out all her secrets.

"Tell me and I'll go," he bargained.

"Do you think everything is for sale?" She didn't completely succeed in keeping her voice from trembling.

He blinked twice, his hand falling away from her face to the side of her thigh, fingers brushing the sensitive skin. It took him a moment to answer.

"I think there are things that are, even though they shouldn't be," he said. "Having a price is not a character flaw, Charlie, it is simply human."

"That's a terrible outlook," she said, her fingers beginning to play with his tie again. A distant part of her brain observed that she touched him nearly as much as he touched her. She looked down, frowning slightly, watching her fingers skid across the slick surface of the tie.