"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.