Hunter sank into the chair behind his desk. “How’s the pain, brother?”
“Manageable,” he sighed.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Harding?” I asked from where I stood near the door, shifting out of the way to let Franco leave.
“Please, call me Bryce.” His voice was thankfully much stronger than it had been in the dressing room.
“Sure… um, Bryce.” I rubbed a hand on my cutoff shorts.
Bryce managed a smile. His face was far less pale, but his thick brown bangs were matted to his sweat-coveredforehead. “Can I get you some water?” I motioned to the small fridge Hunter kept in the corner.
“I should’ve thought of that already.” Hunter nodded toward the fridge. “Thanks for offering, Serenity. My mind is all over the place right now.” He rubbed at his temple.
“Water would be great, thank you.” Bryce leaned back, resting his head against the wall behind the couch, and closed his eyes.
When I returned with a bottle and cleared my throat, Bryce blinked his eyes open and sat up.
“It’s okay being close without gloves?” I asked, trying to figure out what was going on and why Franco had worn them.
“Yes, we’ll be careful not to touch.”
He slowly took the bottle from the end I wasn’t holding, his hand trembling, whether from exhaustion or not wanting me close, I couldn’t be sure. I quickly stepped back to stand by Hunter’s desk.
Reaching into his dress slacks’ pocket, Bryce pulled out a small plastic baggie, filled with red specks. They looked like… chopped chili peppers. They were. He opened the bag and their powerful scent spiced the air. He cracked open the bottle and gulped the peppers down with the water. As he drank, his hand stopped shaking.
Whatever was up with the peppers, I needed to give him a moment, so I turned toward the wall behind Hunter’s desk, skimming my eyes across the floor to ceiling shelves and rows of books. Everything from business know-how to philosophy to Agatha Christie, Charles Dickens and other classics. I loved that Hunter actually read them too, his powerful appearance masking such depth.
Hunter looked better himself now that Bryce seemed to be recovering. He glanced at me with soft eyes. “I’m sorry your first night of dancing ended like this.”
“My fault.” Bryce groaned. “You were fucking fantastic. And I cost you tips. I’ll have something couriered over tomorrow.”
“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” I wouldn’t take money fromhim like this. “I just hope you’re going to be okay?” I was still unsure exactly what happened and why he thought it was his fault.
He held up the empty baggie. “This helps. Bit of a painkiller for me. And I’ll be back to normal soon.” He drank the last of the water and looked over at Hunter. “I’m so sorry about shutting your club down too. Though I know you won’t let me make it up to you.”
“I won’t.” Hunter gave him one of his rare smiles and my heart warmed at seeing the ease between them. “I’m just sorry it happened.” Hunter’s tone was tinged with shame. “Tara was late for her shift. I forgot to have her briefed on your condition. I thought she would’ve known, you know, with you being who you are, but clearly not.”
Bryce’s eyes met mine and he read my confusion easily. “I’m just glad not everyone reads about me in the news.” He gave me a small, tentative smile of his own. “How about we have an honest chat? All of us?” He glanced at Hunter who nodded. “Serenity, I’ll tell you why I caused such a disruption earlier, and you tell us about that vampire. Deal?”
A shiver coursed through me at the thought of Conrad, much less talking about him. But I knew I owed them answers, especially Hunter. “Okay.”
“I’ll go first,” Bryce said, distracting me, at least for the moment. His button-up shirt was half-soaked with sweat, but his voice was full and deep and completely calm now. “Either way, you deserve an explanation.” He sat up straighter on the couch and his citrus and spice scent filled the room, relaxing me like it had in his office. “So, it’s pretty widely known—but not by everyone it seems—that I can’t be touched.”
“Can’t be touched?” I shifted my weight from one boot to the other. “You mean at all?”
“Not exactly. Over clothing is fine. Touchme, my bare skin, and murderous pain. Both ways. That poor waitress touched my bare hand.” He paused and gestured to his soaked shirt with a wry,despondent expression. “This is the result on my end. And I’m used to it. For that young girl, I can’t imagine.” He dropped his head.
“Oh God. I’m sorry. And for trying to shake your hand yesterday.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been blessed with many things in this life. Unfortunately, the warmth of touch wasn’t one of them. I’ve learned to live with it. Or without it, I guess you could say. A lot of times I wear gloves, but I’ve mostly just learned to stay away from people. It just saddens me when things like this happen and people get hurt because of my problem.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I assured him. “Tara just didn’t know. An accident. The main thing is, everyone will be okay.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that. Any questions about it?”
I didn’t want to pry, but maybe talking was helping to distract from the last of his pain, just like it was doing for me with thoughts of Conrad. “Has it always been this way?”
He nodded. “I’m afraid so. Almost from the time I was born. My poor parents. Had a house full of gloves and other precautions.”
