In Death 21 - Origin in Death

his flesh. His knowledge of her, mind and body and heart.
    No one knew her as he did. No one loved her as he did. For all of her life before him, there'd been no one who could touch her, not all the way down to the tormented child who still lived in her.
    When he slid inside her, all those shadows were pushed back. She had light in the dark.
    When morning was blooming through the night, she could close her eyes. She could rest her mind. His arm came around her, and anchored her home.
    The light was still dim when she woke. It confused her, as she felt reasonably rested. A little hungover from overworking her brain and body, but better than she should have with just a snatch of predawn sleep.
    Obviously, she'd underrated the restorative powers of sex.
    It made her feel sentimental, and grateful. But when she slid her hand across the sheet, just to touch him, she found him gone.
    She started to sulk, then called for time.
    The time is nine thirty-six A.M.
    That news had her bolting straight up in bed. He'd darkened the windows, and the skylight.
    "Disengage sleep mode, all windows. Shit!" She had to slap her hands over her eyes as the sudden blast of sun blinded her.
    She cursed and squinted her way out of bed and into the shower.
    Five minutes later, she let out a muffled scream when she blinked water out of her eyes and saw Roarke. He stood, wearing a casual white shirt and dark jeans-and held an oversized mug in his hand.
    "Bet you'd like this."
    She peered avariciously at the coffee. "You can't set the bedroom on sleep mode without telling me."
    "We were sleeping."
    "We never set it on sleep mode."
    "Seemed like the perfect time to change our habits."
    She shoved her wet hair back, and walked, dripping, to the drying tube. She glared at him while warm air swirled around her.
    "I've got stuff to do, people to see."
    "Just a suggestion, but you'll probably want to dress first."
    "Why aren't you?"
    "Aren't I?"
    "Why aren't you wearing one of your six million suits?"
    "I'm sure I have no more than five million, three hundred suits. And I'm not wearing one of them because it seemed overly formal considering we have people arriving today."
    "You're not working." She stepped out, grabbed the coffee. "Has the stock market obliterated overnight?"
    "On the contrary, it's up. I can afford to buy another suit. Here you are." He handed her a robe. "You can wear that while you have some breakfast. I'll have another cup of coffee myself."
    "I have to contact Feeney, the commander, and check in with the droids on Avril. I have to write a report, check the forensics on Samuels."
    "Busy, busy, busy." He strolled out and toward the AutoChef. An; back, he thought with some relief. The exhausted woman had regenerated into the cop. "What you want's a nice bowl of oatmeal."
    "No sane person wants a bowl of oatmeal."
    "Fortified."
    She wouldn't laugh. "Let's go back to the beginning. You can t se: sleep mode without telling me."
    "When my wife comes home weeping from exhaustion and stress,! I'm going to see that she gets some rest." He glanced back, and there i was that steel in his eyes. The kind that warned her arguing would end 1 in a fight. "And she's lucky I did nothing more than darken the room to see she got some." He crossed to the seating area with a bowl, set down on the table.
    "Now, you'd better sit down and eat that, or we're going to start: day with one hell of a fight."
    "Figured that already," she grumbled.
    "And your schedule's already so full."
    She came as close as she ever did to pouting when she studied oatmeal. "It's got disgusting lumps.”
    “It certainly doesn't. What it's got is apples and blueberries."
    "Blueberries?"
    "Sit down and eat them like a good girl."
    "Soon as there's room in my schedule, I'm going to punch you for that." But she sat, contemplated the bowl. It looked to her as if perfectly good fruit had been buried in mush. "Technically, I've been on shift since eight. But I'm entitled by regs, unless requested otherwise by a superior, to take eight hours between duty. It was after two when I left the Icove place."
    "Have you decided to become a clock watcher?"
    "Peabody and McNab had put in for vacation time, starting today. I told her to go."
    "Depleting your team by two." He nodded, sat. "All within the confines of regulations, all perfectly aboveboard. The pace will slow. Add the holiday and it slows more. What do you intend to do with the time ?"
    "I already started doing it. I broke Code Blue.