He raised the side of his T-shirt. His entire torso was dark. It took me a second to realize that it was one continuous bruise. Oh you silly idiot man. “Have medmages seen this?” The Pack had its own hospital and our medmages were some of the best.

“Sure.”

“What did they say?”

“They said it was fine.”

“I’m going to hit you with a wine bottle,” I growled. “What did they really say?”

“I spoke to Nasrin. She said bed rest for twenty-four hours.”

Of course, she recommended bed rest. The fight had to have drained Jim down to nothing, and changing shape took a lot of energy, especially now. Magic flooded our world in waves. When magic was up, spells worked and transforming was easier and still, if a normal shapeshifter changed form twice in twenty-four hours, Lyc-V, the shapeshifter virus, would shut your body down for a nap. I was exempt from this rule, because while I carried the virus, my magic was mystical in origin, but Jim’s wasn’t. With technology in control, a fight behind him, and two shape-changings, Jim should’ve been in bed, not here.

“So, instead of resting you shifted out of warrior form and drove here?” He couldn’t have been that reckless. He could’ve fallen asleep at the wheel.

Jim yawned. “I didn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at me. “You look really pretty.”

Oh you stupid dummy.

“I’m just going to sit here for a second,” he said and closed his eyes.

Jim was six feet tall. My couch was tiny. If he fell asleep here, he wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning. “Nasrin said bed rest, not couch rest.” I wedged my shoulder under his armpit. “Come on. We’re going upstairs to the bedroom.”

His eyes lit up for half a second. “Well, if you insist . . .”

“I insist.” I pulled him upright. I was a vegetarian weretiger, but I was still a shapeshifter. I could’ve carried him up the stairs except I didn’t think he would let me. “Come on.”

We walked up the stairs and I deposited him on the bed. I loved huge soft beds, and this one was a queen with a mattress topper so thick I had to hop to get onto it. Jim landed on it and sank in. I reached for his boots, but he sat up. “I’ve got it.”

His boots hit the floor. He lay back and closed his eyes. I slipped into the closet and pulled off my lingerie. I didn’t want him to see me in it. If he did, he might think that I had a plan for the evening and was upset because it collapsed. I didn’t care about the plan. I just wanted him to be okay. I threw on a pair of plain cotton panties and a white tank top, came out, and slipped into the bed next to him.

Magic rolled over us in an invisible wave. All of the electric lights went out and the feylantern in the bathroom stirred into life, glowing with gentle blue. My magic flowed through me. Excellent. He would heal faster during a magic wave.

“Sorry I ruined the date,” Jim murmured.

I snuggled up to him, my hand on his chest, careful not to press too hard. “You didn’t. This is perfect.”

• • •

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.

I opened my eyes. I was lying in my bed. I inhaled deep and smelled Jim. His scent was all around me, the clean, citrus-spiced smell that drove me crazy. His arm was across my waist, his body hot against my side.

Jim was in my bed and he was holding me. I smiled.

Knock-knock-knock.

Someone was knocking on my front door. That was fine. They could keep knocking. I would just keep lying here, in my soft bed, wrapped in Jim. Mmmm . . .

“Dali! Open the door.”

Mom.

I jerked upright in my bed. Jim leaped straight up and landed on his feet, his arms raised, his body tense, ready to pounce. “What?”

“My mother is here!” I jumped to the floor, jerked a pair of shorts from under my bed, and hopped on one foot trying to put them on.

He exhaled. “I thought it was an emergency.”

“It is an emergency,” I hissed in a theatrical whisper. “Stay here! Don’t make any noise.”

“Dali,” he started.

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Shush!”

He blinked. I grabbed my kimono, tossed it over me, shut the door to my bedroom, and ran down the stairs, holding on to the rail for dear life so I wouldn’t trip. The last thing I needed was my mother finding out I had Jim in my bedroom. There would be no end of shock and questions and then she would want to know if we had set the date for the wedding yet and when are the grandchildren coming. I didn’t even know if Jim was serious.

I jumped the last seven steps, tied my kimono, and reached for the door.

The wineglasses. Oh shoot. I raced into the kitchen, grabbed the two wineglasses, dumped the wine down the sink, stuck them into the nearest cabinet, emptied the vegetarian curry soup into the sink, threw the butternut squash gnocchi into the trash, tossed the steak I made for Jim after it and shoved it deep into the garbage can in case my mother decided to throw something away. I washed my hands, ran for the door, and opened it.

My mother raised her hands. She was holding her bag in one and a box of donuts in the other. She was about an exact copy of me except thirty years older. We were both short and tiny and when we spoke, we waved our hands around too much. A woman about my age stood next to her. She had dark hair, big eyes, and a cute heart-shaped face. Iluh Indrayani. Like me, she was born in the U.S., but both of her parents had come from Indonesia, from the island of Bali. Her mother knew my mother and we met a few times, but never really talked.

Something bad had happened. The only time my mother brought visitors to my house who weren’t family was when some sort of magical emergency had taken place.

“You left me on the doorstep for half an hour,” my mother huffed.

“I was asleep.” I held the door open. “Come in.”

They walked inside, my mother in the lead. Iluh gave me an apologetic look. “So sorry to bother you on a Saturday.”

“That’s okay,” I told her.

We sat in the kitchen.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked.

My mother waved her hands. “You talk. I’ll make coffee.”

Above us something thudded. I froze.

My mother stared at the ceiling. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I asked, my eyes wide. I would kill Jim. He could sit completely motionless for hours when on stakeouts. I’d seen him do it. He had to be dropping things on purpose.