Almost Midnight (10 page)

The last thing Della remembered was falling against the big beast and thinking that even as a lion, Steve smelled like some spicy male soap.

*   *   *

Della felt someone lift her head up.

Then she heard a male voice with a Southern accent as sexy as the voice was deep. “You either wake up and drink this or I'm going to have to call Burnett. You hear me? Wake up, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?
Della lifted her eyelids and looked up at the dark-haired, soft brown–eyed guy sitting next to her on the huge bed. He had one hand behind her head and the other holding a cup up to her mouth. It took her a second to realize who he was. It took another one for her to remember everything.

The mission.

The vampires.

The weres.

Steve's kiss.

Oh, yeah, she remembered Steve's kiss.

“Thank heavens,” he muttered when he saw her looking at him. “Can you drink?” He pressed the cup to her lips. “Just a couple of sips.”

The sweet smell of blood filled her nose and she opened her mouth and sipped. It tasted so good, she took another sip.

Steve lowered her head on the pillow that was so soft it practically swallowed her head. She glanced up at his smile.

“I think you need to drink more, but we'll give you a few minutes,” he said.

The silky feel of the sheets against her bare back and the soft pillow surrounding her head told her two things. One, they weren't back at the cabin, and two, she was practically naked.

She moved her gaze around and took in what appeared to be a fancy hotel room. Then she reached down to the sheet that covered her chest and lifted it up an inch to check for clothes.

Yup, naked. Well, practically naked. She still had on her red silk panties. And a bandage over her wound.

She dropped the sheet down against her chest and frowned up at him.

“Where are my clothes?”

“I threw them in the bathtub and rinsed them just in case any weres or other vamps were around. Didn't want them to smell you.”

How could she argue with that? She couldn't. Well, she could, not every argument had to be based in logic, but face it, she was too tired to argue a logical point much less an illogical one.

“Ready for some more blood?” He held the cup out.

She wanted to say no, but she knew the blood was the only thing that would help her. Leaning up on her elbow, or trying to, she slipped back into the pillow. She looked up into his soft, concerned eyes and felt … she felt naked, weak, and vulnerable. This was so not her best day.

He reached down and helped her sit up. She felt the sheet slip down and she barely managed to catch it before it exposed her breasts. He held the cup to her lips and she sipped.

When he pulled the cup away, he smiled at her again—all sweet like. He wasn't even looking at her like she was naked under the sheet like most boys would. He was smiling at her like … like she was someone he cared about.

Definitely not her best day.

She didn't want him to start caring. Because then she might start caring about him. That was dangerous.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back and in few minutes she felt sleep claim her.

 

Chapter Six

Della felt a tickle against her temple and went to wipe it away. Then the tickle hit the back of her hand.

Her eyes popped open with a start. The tickle was someone's breath, easy in and easy out, wisps of air.

And that someone was Steve.

Steve, asleep in bed with her. Steve, on his side, sharing her pillow.

Steve, not even the least bit ugly, with dark long lashes resting against his upper cheek. His equally dark brown hair lay scattered across his brow.

Asleep, he looked younger, except for his five o'clock shadow. She tried to remember if she'd felt any of that stubble when he'd kissed her last night at the restaurant. She hadn't. But she wanted to run her fingers across his chin now.

Her gaze shifted downward to her chest, to her not-so-big boobs. The sheet had slipped down around her waist.

Frowning, she snatched the sheet up and wondered if Steve had been privy to the view before he'd fallen asleep. Of course he had, she realized, he'd been the one to remove her bra and play doctor when he dressed her wound. A depressing thought hit. Had he been disappointed that she wasn't bigger?

She stared at the two slight mounds now pushing against the sheet—finding a bit of hope that they were a little bigger than they used to be. In the last few months, she'd actually started to fill out a B cup. Not that she aspired to get to a C cup like Miranda and Kylie. But a full B or B
+
would be nice.

She glanced to her left side and lowered the sheet just a bit to see her bandage. It didn't look like a half-assed job. Shifting her shoulder, she realized it must have healed, because there wasn't even the slightest amount of pain. Then she looked at her arm where another bandage was.

She vaguely remembered Steve waking her up and making her drink blood two or three times. She also recalled him telling her yesterday that his mom was a doctor. Was he considering becoming a doctor himself? He should. The boy had what it took.

Reaching up, she loosened the bandage below her shoulder blade to see the wound. The cut still showed, but it was close to being healed.

“It looks good,” a deep, sleepy voice said beside her.

She cut her eyes to the guy sharing the mattress with her and glared. “Get out of my bed.”

He grinned. “Technically, it's my bed. I rented the room.”

She frowned. “It's too early to be logical!”

He chuckled. “Actually, it's not early, either.”

She sat up a little, holding the sheet to her chest, and vaguely recalled not being able to sit up earlier. “What time is it?”

He rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside table. “Six.”

“That's early,” she said.

“In the afternoon.” He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and looked adorable doing it.

“Wait. It's six in the afternoon? Shit!” She sat up straighter. “I slept all freaking day? Burnett's probably livid. I was supposed to check in.”

“I did.”

She frowned. “You told him I was hurt!”

“No, well I did, but I downplayed it—a lot. I had to tell him you had to fight because the whole burning warehouse and sightings of giant lions made the news.”

She recalled him turning into a lion both at the warehouse with the rogues and to fight off the weres. “You were spotted?”

“A drunk in the alley, so it's not too bad.”

“Sorry,” she said, remembering he was a stickler about following the rules and not shifting in a public place. And yet he'd shifted because … because she couldn't protect them.

“It's okay.” His gaze went soft again, like he cared or something. “We got out alive. And we completed our mission. Now the FRU can go in and make some arrests in the gang.”

She nodded. “I'm surprised Burnett hasn't been calling every fifteen minutes.”

“I think he would have but he's got another problem on his hands.”

“What?” Della asked.

“Supposedly Helen was attacked.”

“Helen? Our Helen?” Helen was a bashful half-fae who Della couldn't believe anyone would hurt. “Is she okay? Who did that?”

“Burnett's been at the hospital with her. He said she was okay. I asked who did it, and he said they didn't know. But you know Burnett, he'll get them and when he does they'll get hell.”

“Yeah, and I'd like to help him dish out that hell. Thank God she's okay.” Della's stomach grumbled, embarrassingly loud, too.

Steve chuckled. “I think you're hungry.” He bounced out of bed. “I'll get it for you.”

Sitting up, she leaned against the bed's headboard and held the sheet to her chest. She watched him go to the small fridge and pull out a plastic bag with blood. But it wasn't the same blood she'd brought with her on this trip. That blood she'd left at the cabin.

Questions started floating around her head. “That's not my blood. Where did you—”

“My mom worked at this town's ER for a couple of weeks when we first moved from Alabama. There's a blood bank right down the street, that's why I chose this hotel.”

His words bounced around her head. “You stole blood from a blood bank?” She shook her head. “You're never supposed to do that!”

“I didn't. Well, not technically.” He moved to stand by the bed and handed her a cup.

She took the cup and stared down at it. The wonderful aroma filled her nose. “Is this O negative?” she asked, recalling how good it had tasted when she'd been semicomatose.

“Only the best for you.” He sent her a crooked smile.

“I guess you can't take it back, can you? And if you try I might have to kill you.” She took a big sip.

He grinned. “Drink up, and besides, I didn't exactly steal it.”

She glanced at him from the cup's lip. He continued to stand there just looking at her. “What do you mean?”

“I went in to donate a pint and just left with it.”

She licked the last drop of blood from her lips. “You're O negative?” No wonder he always smelled so good to her.

He nodded. With his grin now spreading to his eyes, he said, “You're welcome.”

“I didn't say thank you.”

“Yeah, but your appreciation was in your eyes.”

She frowned, hoping to mask her appreciation. Then sitting up a little more, she drained the cup and set it on the bedside table. “Where are my clothes?”

“In the bathroom. They should be almost dry. I washed them out really good. But before you get dressed I need to put some more ointment on your cuts. One last time.”

“I think I'm fine.”

“Oh, you're fine,” he said and smiled, “but your cut still needs one more dose of ointment.” He moved back to the dresser and picked up a tube of something along with some other supplies.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, put his supplies on the nightstand, and carefully removed the bandage from her arm. He squirted some medicine on a cotton swab and dabbed it on the cut. She studied the cut on her arm, and like the one on her chest, it appeared almost healed.

Then he reached up and nudged the sheet down. Not low enough to see anything, but low enough to hint at the breast below and to get to her bandaged wound. Gently, he pulled back the dressing and patted the medicine on the cut.

When she glanced up at him through her lashes he was staring at her. “You're beautiful, by the way.”

She felt her face heat up. Okay, now he stared at her like a normal boy, thinking about how naked she was beneath the sheet. Yet, instead of being repulsed, she was … She was relieved to know he didn't find her unattractive. And he'd obviously seen almost all of her, too.

“If you tell anyone you saw me naked, I'll kick your ass.”

He dropped the cotton swab on the nightstand and then reached over and tilted her chin up with his index finger. “I wouldn't tell anyone.” His voice came out a little deep, and he sounded completely sincere.

He ran his finger over her lips.

“You aren't going to kiss me,” she said.

“We'll see about that,” he said and then he did it. He kissed her.

*   *   *

How it went from a simple kiss to him stretched out beside her, the sheet down at her feet and his shirt off, was a mystery. A delicious one.

His mouth moved from her lips to her neck and then lower. She moaned, lost in how good it felt. But when his hand softly, seductively slid down below her waist, she grabbed it, and swallowed a big dose of reality.

“I'm sorry,” she muttered and sat up. “I can't … We can't.”

She heard him inhale and she knew he was filled with want and desire just as she was. But supposedly it was even worse on a guy. It had always been hard on Lee before … before she let things go all the way.

The thought of Lee had her breath catching again.

Tears filled her eyes and all she could think was how she'd gone down this road already. She'd given herself to Lee and look where that'd led her.

“Go take a cold shower.” She gave him her back and pulled the sheet over herself.

He took several deep breaths of air, and after a few long seconds he said, “I didn't mean … I was just going to kiss you. Shit,” he said, his voice filled with self-loathing. “I never meant to take advantage of the fact that—”

“You didn't.” She closed her eyes. “Didn't take advantage. I went there with you. But … we shouldn't have … gone there.”

“To soon?” he asked.

“Too everything,” she answered.
Too good. Too real. Too much like it meant something really special. Too much to have to deal with losing later on.
“If you're not going to shower, I am. We need to get back to Shadow Falls.”

She hated the anger in her tone and hoped he understood it wasn't because of him. It was because of her. She simply couldn't let herself go down this road again.

*   *   *

In the shower she heard a phone ring and listened as Steve told Burnett they would be back in a couple of hours. He took a shower after her, and thirty minutes later, they got into a hotel elevator, one she had no memory of coming up in.

Had he carried her? She hated not knowing something. Hated knowing she'd been that vulnerable.

Once they arrived in the crowded lobby, he led her into the hotel's restaurant.

A complaint rested on her lips, but she remembered she'd eaten today and he hadn't. So she shut up and followed the hostess when Steve told her they needed a table for two.

He ordered a steak and baked potato and some sweet tea. She ordered French onion soup, about the one thing she could actually enjoy, and a Diet Coke.

When the waitress left with their order, Steve looked at her, still wearing an apology in his eyes. Yup, he felt guilty for things getting out of hand. But she didn't put all the blame on him. She could have stopped it. Should have stopped it.