«Asshole.»
«Leaving, minion,» said Nick. «Now.»
She rolled her eyes. «Right behind you, master.»
Lark looked so forlorn, so vulnerable as she sat the edge of the hospital bed, dressed in jeans and a sweater with her long legs stretched in front of her. Her glorious chestnut hair hung limp around her face. A raccoon mask of smeared mascara ringed her eyes.
She'd never looked lovelier to him. He'd do anything to protect her.
«Where's TJ?»
«Nick needed her to do some stuff for him,» he lied without compunction.
«On a Sunday? When her best friend was almost kidnapped? That sucks.»
He shrugged. «You're stuck with me.» She just looked at him.
«Hey,» he said softly. «I'm not that bad, am I?»
She jumped to her feet without a word and ran into the bathroom. He followed when he heard her vomiting.
«Lark-« She waved a hand behind her back to shoo him away. He ignored her. He gathered her thick hair in his hands, making sure to get all the errant wisps out of her face. He held it for her and rubbed her back as she threw up.
Even as she puked, moaning wretchedly, he repressed a disgraceful shudder of pleasure at the feel of her hair in his hands. He'd wanted to run his fingers through it so many times, for so many years.
He remembered the hard-on he got when she spilled a drink on herself last night; today he couldn't keep his hands off her in the midst of her obvious misery. What would he do next, he mused-feel her up in her sleep? If he could get away with it, then yeah, probably so.
She stopped retching but remained on her knees, gulping air and resting her head in her hands, elbows propped on the bowl. He didn't let go of her hair.
«Okay,» she eventually said in an unsteady voice. «I think I'm done.»
He stood behind her while she brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face. Their eyes met in the mirror as she scrubbed at her mascara. A weird expression crossed her face.
«You okay?» he asked quietly.
She shrugged. «I will be. Thanks to you. I was so stupid. If you hadn't been there…» She dropped her head so he couldn't see her face.
With his hands on her shoulders, he drew her back against his chest. He closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her body pressed against his. She didn't look up, but she didn't try to shrug him off.
«Silly brat,» he grunted. «Why do you think you're stupid? You didn't do anything wrong.»
She took a breath. He heard it catch. «I know better than to walk off and leave my drink, especially when I'm with a bunch of people I don't know. That's like rule number one for single girls in bars. I don't know why I did it.»
«Because you're not perfect, and people forget to do things they should.»
No answer. He dropped a quick kiss on top of her head. He'd never done anything like that before. She didn't react at all. That scared him.
«You want to stop at a drive through on the way home?» he asked again.
«I don't think so,» she said softly. «I feel nasty. I want a shower.»
«Yes, ma'am. Let's get you home.»
She didn't speak as the orderly wheeled her out of the hospital, or while they waited for the valet to bring his Mercedes around. He tried to think of something comforting, or reassuring, or halfway witty to say, but he couldn't. He never could, he reflected bitterly. So he called the department to check in. He told Danny he was taking Lark home.
Once on the road, she startled him when she reached over to lay a hand on his arm.
«Taran?» she asked uncertainly.
«What?»
«I want you to be honest with me, okay? You can tell me. I need to know…»
«Know what?» he said, staring straight ahead and wondering wildly if she'd sensed something.
«Did something horrible happen to me, and you don't want to tell me?' He turned to look at her in bewilderment. «No. What makes you think that?»
«Because,» she said, dropping her hand, «you're acting so sweet and gentle, it kind of scared me, and I thought…»
«Shit, Lark!» He nearly plowed into an SUV stopped at a light. «Why can't I just be nice to you?»
«I don't know, Taran. I ask myself that all the time.» She gave him a small smile, nothing like the smartass-brat grin he usually got.
He swore again under his breath. The light turned green.
«Maybe I'm being nice to you because someone drugged you and tried to kidnap you and you could've wound up dead. But hey, now that you're okay, I can just go back to being an asshole.»
«Not necessarily. I mean, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow.» She grinned wider that time.
«That's not funny, Lark.»
«Sure. Like you'd know funny.»
They got to Lark's apartment to find TJ waiting for them. When Lark asked her friend what Nick had needed, TJ just smiled at Taran and murmured, «Oh, you know how those alphas are.»
Taran looked annoyed, which Lark found strangely comforting. After ordering TJ to stay with her at least another four hours-TJ cheerfully told him to bite her («but if you do I'll tell your Alpha»)-Taran left. He threatened to call and check on her later.
«So. The Great Werewolf Detective seemed kind of concerned about you, didn't he?»
«I don't want to talk about him, Teej. I just want a shower.»
«Okay, but at least tell me what you think about the way he-« «Hey, TJ? How's Nick? How many women has he fucked this month, and have you told him it kills you?»
She instantly regretted the horrible, nasty words, but after all the trauma, and in her state of nervous exhaustion, she didn't feel like dissecting her endless, hopeless, unrequited crush one more time. They'd been best friends for thirteen years. TJ would let this one slide.
Sure enough, after a minute of hurt silence she threw her arms around Lark and squeezed.
«Look, bitch,» she said into the general vicinity of Lark's breasts, «That's just mean, but I'm sorry anyway. You've had an awful time, and you're right. No talk of asshole werewolves. How about midday margaritas? On second thought, no booze. Let's order Chinese and veg on the couch…»
She kicked TJ out around six. Her best friend hesitated to leave, asking over and over if she wanted her to spend the night, but Lark insisted she could stay by herself. She promised to call TJ if she changed her mind.
She briefly considered staying home from work on Monday, but she didn't want to talk about the ordeal and she didn't like to lie. Besides, comfy pajamas, fuzzy socks and a good night's sleep fixed almost everything. Tomorrow she'd feel normal again.
Once asleep, she found herself in another dream-a bad one this time, and not just because it featured no Taran. She dreamed she was asleep in her bed, warm and safe, when someone tried to bust down her front door. In her dream she laughed-the unknown assailant couldn't get in, because when she'd moved in here Taran and Myall had insisted on installing a steel door. She'd thought it excessive at the time, but she appreciated the hell out of it now, in her dream.
She heard a godawful fight-from the sound of it, right outside her door. The steel door finally gave way with a mighty crash. The godawful fight fell into her front room. She sat up in bed and screamed, because she realized she wasn't asleep after all.
The pitifully faint trail threatened to go cold if he didn't chase some leads. After he dropped Lark off, he went to meet with Le Monde management.
They didn't have much to tell. The mysterious European werewolves spent a lot of time and money-always cash-at Le Monde, and they attracted hordes of women. No one knew their names, and they never made trouble.
Le Monde managers knew of the three women's disappearances-four now, with Eloise-and the threat of publicity scared them enough that they agreed to let undercover officers pose as staff.
The DA had failed in his attempts to get search warrants for the homes and computers of the first three women-the judge didn't see enough evidence of foul play, even given all the women's fae ethnicity and the fact they'd all gone missing from Le Monde. Now, however, with Lark's drugging and near-abduction, and Eloise's disappearance, presumably with the same wolves who'd tried to take Lark, the DA tried again. When contacted on Sunday morning, the judge granted the warrant.