Chapter 53
When Katelina woke again, the room was filled with inky darkness. She shivered and reached instinctively for Jorick, but her hand clutched only empty sheet. She blinked at it in confusion, then glanced towards the bathroom where she saw the door ajar, light leaking out of it into the darkened room. Her limbs were stiff, but she climbed out of bed and quickly retrieved the black coat from the floor. She wrapped it around herself and then crept softly across the room. The bathroom door opened easily to reveal Jorick and Oren with their heads together, their expressions akin to children caught with a cookie jar.
Oren, still dressed in the clothes he'd worn late last night, stepped away from his co-conspirator quickly. Jorick, however, continued to lean against the sink. His tattered black clothes were gone, replaced by a pair of faded blue jeans and a white button up shirt that he hadn't bothered to tuck in. His bare feet were a sharp contrast against the dark colored linoleum, and that was what Katelina found herself staring at, unable to meet his gaze. She remembered last night; weeping and screaming, saying things she never wanted to. Her face flushed scarlet and she felt humiliation wash over her. She berated herself for being so weak and pathetic. The modern mantra might be "embrace your emotions and tell the world", but to her there was a wall between private and public - and she had blown a hole in it with her breakdown. Jorick and the others were always so calm and cool, so self-reliant and able to handle anything. She was afraid of what he must think of her after her fit.
"You're awake," Jorick's voice was warm, and she looked up to see him smiling at her.
She nodded, and relief flooded her. There was no condemnation in the depths of his eyes; no pity or disappointment with her and, though perhaps she imagined it, she got the sense from him that he didn't intend to discuss it at a later date, either - that there was no need to talk about what had happened ever again, unless she wanted to. The ghost of a smile flickered on her lips in response to this silent revelation, but she couldn't find any words to say, especially not in front of Oren.
The blonde vampire shifted uncomfortably. He looked from Jorick to Katelina, then cleared his throat loudly and muttered, "Well, I'll find Torina, I'm sure she's tired of keeping Kateesha entertained."
Jorick nodded and Oren exited. When they were alone, Jorick pushed himself off of the sink and came to a stop before her. He took her hands in his and gently ran his thumbs over her fingers.
Her eyes wandered over the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, and the glimpse of pale chest it afforded, to his face where dark eyes shimmered with concern.
"You're... all right?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes." It was only one word, but she tried to pack a world's worth of inflection into it; her desire not to discuss her weakness, her appreciation of his not thinking less of her, and her thanks for how well he'd handled things when she'd been at her worst.
He exhaled deeply and his shoulders relaxed. "Good." He offered her another smile, and she wondered if he was relieved that they weren't going to have a touchy-feely discussion, or if he was just glad that she wasn't hitting him or recoiling from him. "I'll go see if I can borrow some clothes for you."
She nodded to his attire. "Those are from Oren?"
"Yes," he admitted. "I didn't have any more with me. Thanks to the Executioners, I didn't leave the manor very well supplied."
"It looks nice," she offered shyly and looked away from him as she blushed.
He wrinkled his brow unenthusiastically and frowned down at the shirt. "I suppose so. The color's all wrong, and it's a little small. But then you're easily pleased," he teased.
When she made no reply, he took the opportunity to draw her against him and catch her in a deep kiss. Though it hurt her swollen lips, she didn't pull away. She was willing to take the pain to get what she wanted; what she needed. And she needed to know that he could still want to do this even after what had happened.
The kiss ended, but he didn't pull away. His breath was warm against her face as he stared into her eyes. "You're beautiful, do you know that?"
She looked down to hide the flush of pleasure. She'd been terrified that after everything that had happened he'd now find her ruined, unworthy, and repulsive.
"You're far from repulsive," he stated, and her head snapped up, eyes wide. She wondered if he was reading her mind or had it been so obviously written on her face? Troy, the bald vampire, had heard her thoughts, as could Kateesha, but could he? She blushed at the idea that he'd listened to her secret admirations of him, among other private things.
"Clothes. I'm sure that Torina has something she'd gladly donate," he said suddenly, as if to change the subject. "She has a few dresses in the trunk - she'd have brought more, but the rest of her ridiculously extensive wardrobe burned in the fire. Personally, I think she's more upset by the loss of her clothes than anything else." He offered her a weak smiled, so she knew he was trying to make a joke, however sad it might be.
But sad or not, the mood lightened considerably, and a weight was lifted from her shoulders. "Maybe you should go ask her?" she suggested and pulled back from him. "I'm going to take a shower - if I have time." She wanted desperately to wash the evidence of the last two days off of her skin and watch it swirl down the drain to disappear forever.
He nodded his head and said almost sadly, "All right, I'll go ask her." He leaned down and kissed her deeply again, ending it reluctantly. "I'd much rather wrap you up and hide somewhere far from all of this," he murmured as he pulled her to him.
"Me too," she agreed softly and buried her face in his chest. She tried not to think about anything: not about what had happened, not about all the blood and death she'd seen, and not about the fact two weeks ago she'd have run screaming from him because he was a vampire.
"Take your shower, I'll be right back." He looked at her, a mixture of longing and guilt in his eyes, but it was quickly veiled and he moved past her and out of the room.
She closed the bathroom door and dropped the black coat and the hospital gown to the floor. Her glance in the mirror was only cursory. Her revulsion at her bruised face was so complete that she had no desire to actually examine it. She turned the shower on and wondered how Jorick could say she was beautiful when she had a black eye and abrasions all over.
She used the miniature shampoo and soap provided and, when finished, wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. The curiosity was getting the better of her and she had almost relented and wiped the steam from the mirror when the door opened. She clutched at her towel, but it was only Jorick bearing a slinky green dress and a pair of panties that dripped white lace. She held the undergarment up and stared at it, incredulous. "Tell me, what's the point?" she asked rhetorically.
He shrugged his shoulders in reply, but his eyes twinkled. "Don't ask me, I'm not a connoisseur of lady's undergarments."
He leaned casually against the wall and looked at her until she cleared her throat loudly, then he asked innocently, "Yes?"
"I'd like to get dressed."
He grinned and gestured with his hand. "Be my guest."
"Alone?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
Jorick laughed; a warm rich sound that made her feel better. "All right, if you insist." He was still laughing as he disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door.
