BERNARDO SPLIT US up; he took Olaf, leaving Lisandro to drive Nicky and me. We managed to get into the cars and head to the motel without Olaf losing what was left of his control. In fact, he just suddenly went icily and completely calm. The total change in affect was more chilling than anything else he could have done, because the change of heart couldn't be real. It was like he'd taken all that rage and just locked it away, but I knew it was still in there. It was still in there and it would find a way out, and that way would be frightening.

Lisandro drove. I started to get in back with Nicky, but Lisandro said, "Anita, sit up front with me."

"Why?" I asked.

"You and Nicky got pretty distracted back there. It's part of what got the big guy so upset. He wanted to break you guys up."

"Stop us from kissing, or hurt us?" I asked.

"I don't think Bernardo was sure which he meant to do; that's why he stopped him."

"I appreciate you and Bernardo interceding for us," I said.

"It was my job, and Bernardo is more afraid of Edward than he is of Olaf."

"Thanks all the same," I said.

"Just ride up front, that's thanks enough," he said.

"Anita can sit in back with me," Nicky said.

"I'm not driving around while the two of you make out," he said.

"We're not getting in the back to make out, Lisandro."

He just looked at me. "So why does it matter if you ride up front?"

I opened my mouth, and then closed it. Why did it matter? Nicky brushed his fingers against mine, and it just seemed natural to fold my hand around his. I felt better, steadier. Ah, that was why it mattered. Could I promise that we wouldn't make out in the back seat? I thought I could. Could I promise we wouldn't touch each other? No, and why would it matter? What was so wrong with us touching each other? I shook my head. "I'll sit up front."

Nicky squeezed my hand. "You're the boss, not him."

"Yeah, but I can't promise him we won't let the touching get out of hand, Nicky. He's right about that." I searched his face, and the only thing I saw there was need, almost hunger. This was the longest I'd ever been away from Nicky since he came to St. Louis. I thought about it; was this the longest I'd ever been away from home since Jean-Claude and I had been dating? I stood there holding Nicky's hand and feeling it like an anchor in all this mess. If it had been Jean-Claude, or Micah, holding my hand, how much worse would the draw have been? Was I more than homesick? Was it more than just not feeding the ardeur that had caused the tree limb to hurt me so badly, and caused me to need sex to heal? Was it literally not being home with Jean-Claude and the other men that was affecting how well I healed?

I stood there holding Nicky's hand and feeling better than I'd felt in days, or was that just my imagination? I wasn't sure, and the fact that I couldn't tell said something, too. Shit.

"I'll sit in front because I want to touch you. It's like I'm more than just hungry for the ardeur, it's like the metaphysical tie is making you more touchable than normal."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I don't know, but just let me sit up front and get to the hotel. We'll go from there."

"I don't understand, Anita."

"Neither do I," I said, and we left it at that. But I sat up front with Lisandro, though when Nicky touched my shoulder, I put my hand up to his and we held hands all the way there.

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