I’d rather be dead. Maybe she was right.

“Mercy,” grumbled Darryl, “she was right about one thing: you need some sleep. Go to bed.” His voice softened. “You, too, Jesse. We can all help your boy better on a full night’s sleep.”

He was right. I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open.

I yawned and hooked my arm through Jesse’s. “Okay.”

AFTER DROPPING JESSE OFF AT HER ROOM, I OPENED the door to Adam’s as quietly as I could. Someone had stripped the comforter and thrown it on the floor. Adam was sprawled naked on top of the sheet—and he looked horrible. A mass of dark red scabs covered most of his extremities as well as here and there on the rest of his body.

Warren had taken off his boots and was lying on the near side of the bed on his side, facing the doorway. Sam was curled up between them at the foot of the bed.

I’d worried a little about leaving him with a wounded Alpha, but apparently he was still behaving atypically for an uncontrolled werewolf. While I closed the door, he rolled flat on his side and half looked at me. He wiggled a bit and let out a satisfied oof as he pushed Warren’s feet over a few inches. I noticed that he didn’t touch Adam.

Warren was awake—even if he looked like he was deeply asleep. I crawled over him and the corners of his mouth tipped up. I settled in between him and Adam, curling my legs up so I didn’t kick Sam.

I tried not to touch Adam, but he rolled over and threw an arm over my hip. It felt warm and safe and good—and probably hurt him. His eyes opened a slit, then closed.

I lay there a while in simple appreciation that he’d survived the fire. The door opened just as I was drifting off to sleep.

“Is there room for one more?” asked Ben. I lifted up my head to see him standing in the doorway in a pair of baggy sweats. His hair was ruffled on one side as if he’d been lying down before he came up. “If not, I can go—”

“Come on in,” rumbled Warren. “I’ll go take the upstairs guest room.”

Warren rolled off the bed, and Ben crawled on. He put one foot on mine, then let out a sigh and collapsed like a puppy who’d been playing for too long. Pack is for comfort when you hurt, I thought, putting my head back down. And for the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, I appreciated being a part of one.

I WOKE UP BECAUSE THE TOP OF MY HEAD WAS TOO warm. The sensation was vaguely familiar so I started to go back to sleep when sharp, pokey things started digging into my scalp. And then I remembered why there shouldn’t be a cat sleeping on my head.

I sat up and stared into the cool gaze of the slightly singed calico Manx who expressed her irritation with my abrupt change of position with an irritated meow. She smelled of smoke, and there was a raw spot on the top of her back, but otherwise she seemed to be fine.

Adam didn’t move, but Ben rolled over and opened his eyes.

“Hey, cat,” I said, tearing up, as she adjusted to my new position and maneuvered herself so she was within easy petting distance of both Ben and me. “I thought you were toast.”

She pushed her head under my hand and rolled so my hand slid through her coat. Ben started to reach out, but stopped as soon as he moved his fingers. They looked better than they had before—though they still looked like something that might appear in a horror movie.

“I didn’t realize you didn’t know,” Ben said, his voice still rough. “I should have told you. Adam went to your room. I went to Sam’s and found her under the bed.”

I wiped my eyes and nose on my shoulder (both hands being occupied with cat and covered with cat hair anyway). Then I leaned forward and kissed Ben’s nose.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’d have missed her a lot.”

“Yeah.” He stretched out on his back, hands carefully laid across his belly. “We’d have missed her, too. Only cat I’ve ever seen who tolerates werewolves.” He sounded oddly vulnerable. I don’t think he was used to being the hero.

“Don’t feel too flattered,” said Adam dryly. “Medea likes vampires, too.”

“Adam?” I said.

But he was asleep again. And I could feel him in my head, just as he should be.

Chapter 10

I WOKE UP, AND MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS SURPRISE that I was so sore. Then I remembered the huge fae who’d knocked me silly. In the wake of my home burning down and Adam getting hurt, the encounter with the fae in the bookstore had become incidental. There was a goose-egg-sized knot on the back of my head, nothing wanted to move very much, and my ankles—both of them—ached.

Sam was snoring, something he actually didn’t do very often. He was stretched out across my feet, which couldn’t have been very comfortable for him, though he seemed happy enough. He must have felt my attention because he rolled onto his back and stretched—an instant of half wakefulness that ended with him going back to snoring.

Adam was still sleeping like the dead, as he had for most of the night—except when he woke up coughing blood tinged gray with smoke particles. Sometime during the night, he’d rolled away from me, and now he slept on his side. I ran a hand over his shoulder blade and he moved into my touch without waking up.

“Hey,” I told him. “I love you.”

He didn’t answer, but I didn’t need one—I knew how he felt. Only after I rolled painfully off the edge of the bed did it occur to me that Ben was missing. A glance out the window told me it was still morning, not early, but not late enough to make me feel like a slugabed either.

I limped stiffly to the bathroom. One hot shower later I could move again. And even if my clothes were on their second day—and smelled of blood and smoke and all—I felt ready to face the morning. After a little dithering, I put my shoulder holster back on.

I didn’t feel any urgent need to go armed—but I didn’t have anywhere to put the SIG out of harm’s way either. Adam probably had a gun safe around somewhere, but I didn’t know where it was. So I wore the shoulder harness under my T-shirt, which was loose enough to conceal it. I’d have a hard time drawing the gun, but that shouldn’t matter: it was loaded with lead bullets, and the house was full of werewolves. If I had to draw the gun, I was probably dead anyway.

On that cheery thought, I left the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind me. The lovely smell of sausage and butter pulled me into the kitchen.

Darryl was cooking.

Auriele grinned at my expression. “Sundays,” she said with satisfaction, “he cooks, and I wash dishes. Mostly we end up here at Pack Central, and when Darryl cooks, everyone stops by. It’s a pretty big job.”

The way werewolves eat, it certainly was. A big job that was one of those little things that pulled a pack together: Sunday breakfasts at Adam’s house.

“If you’re doing dishes while he cooks, does he do the dishes when you cook?” I asked.

“Nope,” Darryl said, serving each of us a plate of sausage, eggs, hash browns, and French toast with a snap that looked awfully professional, and returned to the stove. “Not that enlightened.”

She smiled at his back. “He vacuums, though.” And Darryl made an irritated noise.

“Have you seen Ben?” I asked, then said, involuntarily, “This is really good.” The French toast was spiked with real vanilla, cinnamon, and a host of other things, including authentic bitter-sweet maple syrup.

“Mmmm.” Auriele nodded, taking a bite of her hash browns. “He cooked his way through grad school.”

“Made good money at it, too,” Darryl agreed. “Ben’s been down, eaten breakfast, and gone. He’ll be back soon. I called Zee last night.”

I set down my fork. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, if you are going to let my good food go cold.”

I took a hasty bite, and he went back to cooking—and talking. “I played last night’s ransom call back to him, and he picked me clean of everything you told us. Then he said he’d see what he could do. He called an hour or so ago and told me to tell you he’d be over here as soon as he could. It might be a couple of hours, though, so stall the villainess if she wants you to move before he gets here.”