Chapter 26
twenty-six
Two days later Zach was still on the knife-edge between wanting to kiss her so hard she couldn’t breathe—or shaking her so hard her head bobbled.
She’d been deep in shaman-sleep, the restorative, vulnerable unconsciousness replenishing more than just the body. She smelled like a full shaman now, and a powerful one, too.
Zach held out his hand, watching his own fingers vibrate. The rage wasn’t completely gone, but breathing in her smell kept it tightly leashed. It would take weeks for the adrenaline and violence to fade.
They were nervous around him. Not his Family, but the sleuth who owned this house, and even the Tanuki healer-shamans who came to visit, smoothing their slim clever hands over Sophie and reassuring everyone that she would, indeed, be all right.
The sun had come out, and it filled the small room. Sophie’s pale eyes were open, and she was looking at him.
He tried to figure out what her expression was, failed miserably.
Down the hall Julia was humming in the bathroom, Eric was probably in the kitchen downing shots with a couple of the Felinii, and Brenn was out looking for a new van.
They all slept in this room, piled on the floor, Zach waking up every hour to make sure Sophie was still breathing.
Her lips were dry, and slightly parted. She examined him for a long breathless while, her grey gaze steady.
Zach stood, frozen in place. Was she disgusted? Still frightened of him? Angry? Had he tried to hurt her? Brenn said he hadn’t, but you never knew, with the beast’s rage burning in your veins. She probably had no idea how to even begin handling it—but she’d brought him out, hadn’t she?
Silence stretched between them, the animal shifting restlessly inside his bones.
When she pushed the covers back he almost tripped over himself getting to the side of the bed. “Take it easy, Sophie. Just take it real—”
“To hell with taking it easy.” Hoarse but steady. “I want a shower and a toothbrush and some fresh clothes. I feel greasy.”
She sounds fine. Thank God.
“Okay.” He tried not to look at the pink cotton tank top, all rucked up under her breasts and exposing a slice of perfect pale belly-curve. She looked so soft. And one of her hips hitched as she moved, a lovely seashell. “I, um—”
She put her hands up; he caught them reflexively. “Go easy on me, Zach. I feel like I’ve been pulled apart and put back together wrong.”
“Sophie—” Where was he going to begin? With, I’m sorry? With, Are you all right? He braced her as she rose slowly, groaning, from the bed’s embrace.
One small bare foot touched the floor, then the other. She spilled into his arms like grace itself, the faint, fading trace of pain and exhaustion washed away by the cold moonlight of a shaman. Sophie sighed and leaned into him, and the rage… vanished, completely.
He felt like himself again for the first time in days.
“Hello,” she murmured into his chest. “It’s good to see you.”
Did she mean it? He only had the vaguest crimson-tinted memories of bursting into a dark confined space, the stink of murder clinging to his fur, and—
“Are you all right?” he managed. Everything else he wanted to say congealed in a lump right behind his Adam’s apple.
“I need a shower. And a change of clothes. And breakfast. I’m dying for some coffee.” She rubbed her chin against his T-shirt, and he had to swallow dryly.
“Sophie, I—” I went right over the edge. What did you see me do?
“They say you think I’m your mate.” Her head tipped back, and without the steel-rimmed glasses she looked even softer.
He couldn’t decide which way he liked her more.
Curls fell in her face, and even unwashed and sleepy-eyed she was just about the most delicious thing he’d ever seen.
“And that you killed a lot of vampires to get me out of there.”
“Um.” All he could produce was a despairing noise. Words deserted him.
“That was my ex-husband.” The shadow passed over her face, a devouring sadness. “He wanted to murder me. I guess he always wanted that.”
You never have to worry about that again. Anyone so much as breathes at you wrong, I’ll hand them their own spleen. “Sophie—”
“You’re no prize,” she continued. “You kidnapped me, dragged me all over town, and your social skills are so totally nonexistent.”
Oh, Christ. His entire body had turned to lead. “I—”
“Will you shut up? As I was saying…” She coughed a little, leaned into him.
Her softness short-circuited his brain, but also soothed the beast. It curled up, satisfied, at the very bottom of his mind.
“You’re an arrogant werewolf and a kidnapper.
But I’ve never had very good taste in men. I guess Marc was proof of that.”
His arms were around her. She was clinging to him in a most definite way, and his stupid body was taking notice.
“Lucy told me it was time to get back into the dating pool, and I suppose I could do worse than a man who saved my life. But we’re going to have to talk about your social skills.
And Julia, too. She’s spoiled and neglected at the same time, and…
” She coughed again, a dry racking sound, and the movement echoed in his own muscles.
“But we’ll take care of that in a little while.
Right now I need a shower, and you can get me some coffee. ”
What?
“I feel amazingly good, all things considered,” she continued. “A bit sore. How long was I out?”
“Um.” Two days. “I, uh…” He was reduced to grunting, goddammit. Where had all the wisecracking-like-a-teenager gone?
She pushed at him, gently, and he let her go. His arms didn’t want to relax. They fell at his sides like two pieces of splintery wood.
Watching her turn gingerly away was like being fifteen and lonely again. Those curls were a messy glory, and she wore a pair of boxers. There was a fading bruise on her calf that begged to be kissed, just like the curve of her lower back peeping out from under the tank top.
That made the animal take notice, in a drowsy, sated way.
Sophie paused at the door, her hand on the knob. Looked back over her shoulder. “How long? And is there any coffee?”
He was suddenly very sure he didn’t want her to step outside this room. All you want. Anything you want. Just don’t leave us. Don’t leave me. “Coffee. Yeah, there’s some.”
“And some clothes that don’t smell like vampire?”
His hands curled into fists. The thought of upir threatened to bring the rage back. The animal in him perked its ears, lifted its snout.
“Hey.” She came back, padding on those cute little bare feet, and the smell of her washed over him again. The fragrance was slightly odd, and he had to concentrate for a long syrup-stretching moment before he realized why.
She didn’t reek of fear. Not anymore.
“Zach?” Uncertain now.
He had to stare down at the square of pale winter sunlight she was standing in, or he was going to do something unforgivable.
Like grab her and show her just how happy he was she was awake and alive. Like kiss her again. Like push her back down on the bed and get to know her in the best way.
“Don’t leave us.” The words were raw. “You’re our shaman. Don’t leave us. Don’t leave me.”
“Zach—”
“You’ve seen what we are now. What I am. We were doing the best we could, Sophie. We need you. I—”
Her hand clapped over his mouth. Warm, soft skin.
She was so close he could feel the heat of her, and touching him as well.
“Shut up.” She looked so thin, too exhausted, and absolutely beautiful.
“I know you need me. The majir told me. They told me about your little brother playing with the matches, too, while your parents were sleeping. That was what started the fire. You never said a word to anyone about that, and he always wondered if you knew. Both of you felt guilty. And now you wonder if you were too late and too slow because you loved him so much, but you hated having to keep the secret, too.”
Zach stared at her.
Her soft, perfect mouth tightened, the sadness and listening look almost too much to stand. “That was why you never took the alpha.”
His eyes were hot, and incredibly full. Weak wintry light gilded her, turned her into a statue.
“We both know about keeping secrets; I guess we’re more alike than I thought. Now do me a favor and stop worrying. I’m going to learn how to be your shaman, and I’m going to do my best to keep you all together. You just keep your temper, and we’ll get along just fine. All right?”
Keep my temper? Yeah. That’ll be the day.
But he wanted to. If it would keep her around, he’d keep all the temper she wanted.
Her fingers loosened over his mouth. He reached up, caught her wrist, and pressed his lips against her palm. Stubble rasped—he hadn’t had a chance to shave yet.
He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone.
She swallowed, and the sudden wash of coppery heat through her scent told him she wasn’t entirely immune to him. It was a good sign.
“I would never…” He had to clear his throat. She was so goddamn soft, and he was all sharp edges and claws. “Never lay a hand on you, Sophie. Unless you wanted me to.”
The smile that broke over her face was like Christmas and springtime and running under the full moon all at once. Sophie actually, fully grinned at him. “We’ll get around to that.”
She took her hand back, but not before he kissed her palm again, a slow lingering pressure of lips. And she actually blushed, a high flag of color rising to her cheeks.
“Sooner rather than later?” Thank God, the wise-cracks were back. It was a goddamn miracle.
“That depends on how soon you get me some coffee, Zach.” She ran her other hand through her hair, grimaced. “And some fresh clothes.”
“No chance I could get you to walk around in just a towel?”
“In a house full of were-bears? Forget it.” She retreated, step by step, still smiling.
Hope springs eternal. His heart did a triple backflip. “So, in a different house?”
“Coffee, Zach. And keep your temper.” His shaman swept the door open and was already on her way down the hall, obviously knowing where the bathroom was.
Zach closed his eyes, breathed in the smell of her filling the room until the shower gurgled into life.
How had he gotten so lucky? It wasn’t like things to work out.
But damned if he was going to complain.