Infected: Lesser Evils by Andrea Speed

Author:Andrea Speed
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

ROAN couldn’t believe how cold he was. His feet felt like they were carved out of ice. He pulled the sheets tightly around him, and said, “I blame you, you know. You picked this shitty hotel.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Paris replied, wrapping his big body around him, warming him. “Besides, isn’t it romantic to get this snuggly?”

“Slowly freezing to death isn’t romantic.”

“Depends on what you’re doing while freezing to death.” Paris kissed his ear, arms wrapped around his chest, and Paris said, not unkindly, “You know that’s not why you’re so cold.”

It took Roan a moment to figure out what he meant. Yes, it was this shitty Vancouver hotel, where the heating system seemed to break down the instant they checked in, and of course it was an unseasonably cold night tonight. All of this figured, as that’s how it worked.

He ached. He had a funny pain in his leg, a dull, throbbing pain that his icy coldness didn’t seem to be helping, and he didn’t know why until he started thinking about it. And as he thought about it, he remembered fighting cats and being shot. Oh shit. “This is a dream, isn’t it?”

“What if I said you were dead and this was heaven?”

“I’d say this isn’t The Lovely Bones, and cram it with walnuts.”

Paris laughed, a sound Roan realized he missed terribly. It made his chest ache and feel hollow. “Mister Cynical. That’s just never gonna change with you, is it?”

“Am I wrong?”

“No.”

“I kind of wish I was,” Roan admitted, repositioning one of Paris’s arms so it was just under his throat. He felt warm and good, but not nearly warm enough; he felt like he had an icy core, like his insides had been replaced by liquid nitrogen. He recalled losing lots of blood, reddish-black blood spurting as if from a hose. “I miss you so much.”

“What did Dylan tell you once? People die, love doesn’t.”

“How cheesy is that? I’m sure he probably got that from a fortune cookie.”

“Maybe. But you still love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“But you love Dylan too, yes?”

“It’s not the same.” It wasn’t. How could it be? He had given everything he had to Paris, and his death had killed a part of Roan that had never come back. He did love Dylan, but it wasn’t the same, nor could it ever be. Sad but true.

Paris kissed him on the back of his head. “You need him. You know you do.”

“Yes.” This wasn’t really Paris, this was himself, so what was the point of a lie?

“So treat him better. Treat everyone better. You need to stop being a self-pitying bastard and get your shit together, because seriously, I’d have kicked your ass by now.”

He sighed, settling his head in the crook of Paris’s arm. Yeah, okay, it was a dream, or more likely some hallucination kicked up by his blood- and oxygen-starved brain in an attempt to comfort or rally him, or whatever the autonomic response of the brain was in situations like this.

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