“Come on.  We’ll show you to your apartment.”

We followed Bethi up three flights of stairs and opened a heavy metal, yet nicely painted, door to a plush hallway.

“Here’s your key,” she said, handing it to me.  “It’s for the third door on the left.  If you keep walking, we’re around the corner a ways.  Carlos has Luke’s number if you need anything.”

They left us just outside our door.

I shoved the key in the lock and turned the handle, opening the door to a spacious apartment.  I did a quick walkthrough.  Comfortable couch positioned in front of a huge TV.  Treadmill behind the couch.  Nice.  Breakfast bar in the kitchen.  Cupboards stocked with dishes and fridge loaded with food.  Then, I walked down the short hall.  Bathroom on the right.  Bedroom on the left.  That was it.

“One bedroom?” I said, staring at our bags, which were already on the bed.

“The rest are sharing two bedroom apartments.  Jim is taking a couch in one and Sam a couch in another.  They thought it would be easier if you were kept separate.  Michelle said bigger apartments are harder to come by, especially short term.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” I said quickly.  “Just observing.”

“Would you help me with the bandages?  I think I’ll take a shower then go to sleep.”

“Sure.”

And right there in the hall, he tugged his polo shirt over his head.  I’d seen his bare chest several times already.  Yet seeing him take off his shirt was completely different.  I loved the roll of his muscles as he moved.  He turned his back to me.

Carefully, I peeled the tape back and removed the bandages.  Scabs clung to the deep wounds; however, the lighter abrasions showed recently healed pink skin.

I ran my fingers gently over the marks, unable to believe how incredibly fast they were healing.  It took a few seconds to realize he was holding still for me.

“Sorry.  You’re all set.”

He nodded, grabbed his bag, and went into the bathroom.  The water turned on, and I walked to the kitchen to open the fridge.  Inside, I found fancy sandwich fixings, including croissants instead of bread.  There was some type of green stuff in a jar and carved, seasoned turkey.  In the crisper were avocado and sprouts.  Shrugging, I slapped it all together then took a huge bite.

Carlos stepped out of the bathroom in time to catch my groan.  He stopped to watch me.

“You have to try this,” I said after I swallowed.

I hurried to him and offered up my sandwich.  His lips twitched then he took a bite.

“Whoa!  Was that a facial expression?”

He chewed then swallowed.

“Almost.  That was good.  Is there more?”

“Sure.  I’ll make you one.”

I walked away wondering why he’d almost smiled.  Maybe he wasn’t used to people sharing food with him.  After watching werewolves eat, I could understand why.

He disappeared into the bedroom with his bag and came back a minute later to sit at the island and watch me put together his sandwich.

“How is it in here?” he asked.

I knew he meant the emotions.

“Not bad.  I don’t really feel too much of anything.  A wisp of this or that every now and again.  That’s it.”  I slid the plate with the sandwich over to him and took another bite of mine.  “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“Charlene and Michelle are trying to find a way to contact that reporter, Penny, to set up a meeting.  It won’t be tonight.  Tonight we rest.”

Focusing on the sandwich, I considered the night ahead.  Staying in for the evening wasn’t new to me.  But usually I did it alone, and my idea of relaxing involved hitting the bag.  I glanced at Carlos, eyed his multicolored face, and didn’t think he’d be up for that much fun.  What exactly would two people do on an evening in?  The first thought that came to mind had me blushing and turning away from him.

“Want to watch a movie?” I asked, walking over to the couch.  I picked up the remote and surfed through the selection guide.  “Oh, look.  Werewolf in London is on.”  Giving him a quick grin, I turned to that movie.

“I like your sense of humor,” he said, moving to sit beside me.

“Really?  I can’t tell.  You never let anything show.”

“Because you’re not ready.”

Sitting sideways, I gave him my full attention.

“Why did you say that?”

“I didn’t say it.  You did.”

I recalled when I’d said those words—just before he’d been about to kiss me.

“Of course I’m not ready for that.”  My face was never going to cool.  “We barely know each other.”

“I disagree.”

“You think you know me?”

“I know that when you need a break from people, you become more snarky.”

“Snarky?”

“I read.”

I laughed.

“And,” he continued, “I know that when you start rolling your shoulders, someone’s about to face a beating.  When you eat, you focus on one thing at a time until it’s gone.  When you drink, you always lick the cup’s edge before setting it down.”

I did what?

“When you sleep, you curl on your side and tuck your hands under your cheek.  When you’re upset, you say things you normally wouldn’t.  When you fight, you hate hurting the other person...except the Urbat.  You worry about the people around you and resent what you do to them.  You think you need to be alone for the rest of your life and that scares you.  You love stretchy clothes because you can move in them.  You need to condition your hair in order to comb through it.  You think makeup is a waste of time.”

“Stop.  How can you possibly know all that?”  He was right, of course, but how could he know?

“Because I pay attention, Isabelle.  Because I care more than you can imagine.”

I stared at him for several heartbeats while everything he’d just said sank in.

“So, you do know me.  And you think that makes us ready for what?  Being engaged?  Living happily ever after?”

“I think it makes us ready to see each other for what we really are.”

“And what are we?”

“Meant to be.”

His certainty thrilled and scared me.

“What if I don’t want what you want?”

“And what do you think I want?”

“Biting...running...mating.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“No, Isabelle.  I just want you.”

My heart stumbled.  Carlos was right, I was afraid of hurting him.  My one attempt at a date stuck out in my mind.  All it took was the thrill of a first touch, allowing myself to feel it, and I’d nearly killed the boy.  Ethan had known the risk.  He’d kissed me, but I’d never let myself feel anything.  I couldn’t.  It would have killed him.

But Carlos was different.  I couldn’t pull emotions from him or push them into him.  What would happen if I kissed him?

My pulse jumped as I considered it.

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” I said softly.

“I know you are.  But you won’t.”

My imagination continued to explore the possibilities as my gaze drifted over his face, and my neck grew warm.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them, his pupils seemed a bit dilated.

“I’ve waited so long for that.”

“What?” I said, afraid I already knew the answer.

“Your desire.”

He stayed in his spot, his gaze devouring me.  If he’d made a move toward me, I would have bolted or kicked him in the face.  He was smart to wait me out.

“This is a stupid idea,” I said.

“It’s the best idea in the world.”

“What if I knock you out?”

“I’ll be the happiest, unconscious man ever.”

“Gah!” I turned my head away but didn’t get up.  Why was I fighting this internal battle?  Was I fighting what I felt for him, just for the sake of fighting?  Didn’t I want to know something more than that?  Didn’t I want to have someone I could spend my life with?  I rubbed my face in frustration.  I didn’t want someone; I wanted Carlos.

With a slow exhale, I swallowed hard then turned to look at him again.  Yep, he was still there, watching me with the same lack of expression.  My stomach twisted and flipped at the sight of him.