Pia said, holding out her hand, palm-up.
Max planted his hands on his hips—and intimidating look from such a
large man. “If your driving is as dismal as your shooting, I want to be behind
the wheel.”
She jutted her chin. She wasn’t backing down from this one. “You’re not
driving. You could pass out on the way to the hospital.”
“I’m not hurt that badly—and what about you? You need to have those
ribs seen to.”
“I’m a vampire. I heal fast.” The way the blood zoomed through her
veins now, she was well on her way to recovery. Arguing with Max ought to be
prescribed for pain-relief.
“I’m only scratched.”
“Those don’t look like scratches to me,” she said, pointing at his
neck. “Give me the keys.”
He sighed and looked toward the star-bright sky, stubborn tension
bunching the muscles of his arms. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are
you?”
Pia grew still. “Is that what you want?” she said softly.
Max lowered his gaze. He stared at her for a long moment.
So long, Pia worried he would tell her something she didn’t want to
hear.
Instead, he laid the keys in her palm. “Take me home.”
She closed her hand around the keys and dragged in a relieved breath.
“To the hospital, you mean.”
“I have supplies at home. You can take care of me there.”
Taking him home meant he wanted to have sex. Her heart leapt at the
prospect. “Is your tetanus up to date?”
“Last year. And werewolves don’t carry rabies.” He raised her chin with
a finger, and his thumb caressed her lower lip. “Take me home, Pia.”
Although framed as a demand, his voice held invitation. A warm, softly
feminine feeling, a feeling she hadn’t known for a very long time, settled
inside her chest.
But the wounds on his neck were blood-encrusted. He might not think he
needed a hospital, but she couldn’t bear it if something bad were to happen.
She pushed his head up to get a closer look at his neck. “Were you bitten?”
Max’s expression shuttered. “I’m fine. Take me home, Pia.”
She jerked open the car door. “Fine. Get in the car.”
Max let himself into the car and leaned back against the seat.
She started the car, and then looked over at him. “You’d tell me if one
of those bastards bit you, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t want you going all furry on
me.”
Max leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, shutting
out Pia’s face. Her worry warmed his heart.
If she only knew…
Chapter Seven
Pia pushed Max into a chair in the kitchen, and busied herself with the
contents of his first aid kit. If she thought he might let her, she’d just lick
the wounds until they closed. But she was pretty sure Max would be funny about
vampire “gifts”.
“You don’t have to do this,” Max said quietly. “I’ll get a shower.”
“Just stop, will you?” She grabbed cotton gauze and peroxide and
hurried back. “Is this a macho thing? You have some ugly scratches.”
His hand closed over hers. “I didn’t bring you here to nurse me.”
“You didn’t bring me here—I did the driving.” She uncapped the bottle.
“These scratches could get infected.”
Standing between his open legs, she poured some of the peroxide on the
gauze and wiped at the bloody wounds on his chest. “I should really be pissed.
You made me wear that heavy vest, but you couldn’t keep yours on for five
minutes.”
“It got in the way,” he murmured.
The blood dissolved, and she used a fresh piece of gauze to blot the
rest of the dark brown smears from his chest and neck. When she was finished,
she drew back her hand. The wounds were nearly healed. Only faint pink tracings
remained on his skin.
Her mouth gaped and she looked up. How was it possible? Her gaze
locked with his.
Max’s mouth curved into a feral grin. “I told you I didn’t need it.”
She swallowed, suddenly uneasy. His stare was too intent—too predatory.
“You heal fast.”
“Fast as you,” he whispered.
Max planted his hands on his hips—and intimidating look from such a
large man. “If your driving is as dismal as your shooting, I want to be behind
the wheel.”
She jutted her chin. She wasn’t backing down from this one. “You’re not
driving. You could pass out on the way to the hospital.”
“I’m not hurt that badly—and what about you? You need to have those
ribs seen to.”
“I’m a vampire. I heal fast.” The way the blood zoomed through her
veins now, she was well on her way to recovery. Arguing with Max ought to be
prescribed for pain-relief.
“I’m only scratched.”
“Those don’t look like scratches to me,” she said, pointing at his
neck. “Give me the keys.”
He sighed and looked toward the star-bright sky, stubborn tension
bunching the muscles of his arms. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are
you?”
Pia grew still. “Is that what you want?” she said softly.
Max lowered his gaze. He stared at her for a long moment.
So long, Pia worried he would tell her something she didn’t want to
hear.
Instead, he laid the keys in her palm. “Take me home.”
She closed her hand around the keys and dragged in a relieved breath.
“To the hospital, you mean.”
“I have supplies at home. You can take care of me there.”
Taking him home meant he wanted to have sex. Her heart leapt at the
prospect. “Is your tetanus up to date?”
“Last year. And werewolves don’t carry rabies.” He raised her chin with
a finger, and his thumb caressed her lower lip. “Take me home, Pia.”
Although framed as a demand, his voice held invitation. A warm, softly
feminine feeling, a feeling she hadn’t known for a very long time, settled
inside her chest.
But the wounds on his neck were blood-encrusted. He might not think he
needed a hospital, but she couldn’t bear it if something bad were to happen.
She pushed his head up to get a closer look at his neck. “Were you bitten?”
Max’s expression shuttered. “I’m fine. Take me home, Pia.”
She jerked open the car door. “Fine. Get in the car.”
Max let himself into the car and leaned back against the seat.
She started the car, and then looked over at him. “You’d tell me if one
of those bastards bit you, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t want you going all furry on
me.”
Max leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, shutting
out Pia’s face. Her worry warmed his heart.
If she only knew…
Chapter Seven
Pia pushed Max into a chair in the kitchen, and busied herself with the
contents of his first aid kit. If she thought he might let her, she’d just lick
the wounds until they closed. But she was pretty sure Max would be funny about
vampire “gifts”.
“You don’t have to do this,” Max said quietly. “I’ll get a shower.”
“Just stop, will you?” She grabbed cotton gauze and peroxide and
hurried back. “Is this a macho thing? You have some ugly scratches.”
His hand closed over hers. “I didn’t bring you here to nurse me.”
“You didn’t bring me here—I did the driving.” She uncapped the bottle.
“These scratches could get infected.”
Standing between his open legs, she poured some of the peroxide on the
gauze and wiped at the bloody wounds on his chest. “I should really be pissed.
You made me wear that heavy vest, but you couldn’t keep yours on for five
minutes.”
“It got in the way,” he murmured.
The blood dissolved, and she used a fresh piece of gauze to blot the
rest of the dark brown smears from his chest and neck. When she was finished,
she drew back her hand. The wounds were nearly healed. Only faint pink tracings
remained on his skin.
Her mouth gaped and she looked up. How was it possible? Her gaze
locked with his.
Max’s mouth curved into a feral grin. “I told you I didn’t need it.”
She swallowed, suddenly uneasy. His stare was too intent—too predatory.
“You heal fast.”
“Fast as you,” he whispered.
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