Page 44 of Damien’s Mate

Jaeda said, “Nobody’s going to maul you. Here. Have a Pop Tart.” She handed him a plate. “And Brandon, stop scaring him.”

“I’m not scared,” Damien mumbled through a mouthful of Pop Tart. “I’m just figuring out how many animals I can shoot before I get eaten.”

Colt said, “I like him. Plus, he saved my life that time. I say let him stay. And let him go to bed before he falls off that chair.”

Remy said, “He saved Jaeda, too. So I have a little squishy place in my heart for him.”

Squatch, who was quietly leaning against the wall by the window, said, “His girlfriend ripped my ass.”

Damien said, “You were going to maul me!”

“Only a little.” Still no way to tell if he was serious.

Remy said, “What, so you’re voting no?”

“I abstain,” Squatch rumbled.

“I could remind you numbskulls that this isn’t a democracy,” Brandon said, “but I never said he couldn’t stay.” He turned to Damien. “You can both stay here until Lila is better.”

Brandon rose to his feet, so apparently the interrogation was over. He said, “Somebody show him where the guest suite is. Because if he goes in the wrong door and I get interrupted again, somebody is going to get mauled.”

With that, he sauntered out of the room and headed up the stairs.

Most of the others followed. Callie stopped long enough to say, “If you need clothes, there should be some spares in the guest suite. If nothing fits, let us know. We’ll scare up something—you’re about the same size as the twins. And there’s toothbrushes and stuff in the bathroom. Towels. All that.”

“Food in the kitchen,” Colt said. “Beer. Whiskey.”

Remy added, “Spare ammo in the buffet. Next to the napkins.” He grinned. “Welcome to Wild Blood Territory.”

After Damien went back out to the SUV to get his and Lila’s stuff, Jaeda led him upstairs to the guest suite and said goodnight. Damien opened the door quietly, not wanting to wake Lila by bursting in on her.

He might as well not have worried. It was a real suite—the door opened into a living room with a big flatscreen TV, comfy couches, a small dining area and a kitchenette with granite countertops.

Damien looked around, kind of impressed. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it. He’d figured—well, they were animals. He hadn’t exactly thought they’d live in caves—Jaeda had had a normal apartment when he knew her in Louisville—but he hadn’t thought they’d live like this, either.

It was hard to believe a PI business paid for all this. He wondered what else they did.

There was a small hallway that must lead to the bedroom. As he got near the door, he heard a rustling sound inside.

“Lila?” He went in, turning on a dim lamp that sat near the door.

Lila was nothing but a lump under the covers. He put down the bags near the door, listening to her breathing. “Are you awake?” he asked softly.

For a few seconds there was silence, and then she said, “Are you alone?”

“Yeah.” He remembered about her lion senses. “Can’t you smell me?”

“Yes. The more so because you haven’t had a shower since the firefight.” She turned over and sat up in bed. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt that Brock must have found somewhere. She added, “But I was waiting to see if someone was with you. It was hard to tell—that polar bear has practically no scent. It’s weird.”

“Well, it’s just me. Don’t be too disappointed.”

She gave him her mischievous smile, the one he liked the best. “Don’t worry, hooman, I still like you, even after getting a look at all those hot naked shifter guys. I just didn’t want to deal with any questions.”

“Oh, leaving me to be interrogated alone. Thanks for that. How long have you been awake?”

“Since sometime when that Brock guy was poking and prodding me. I thought he’d never leave. I was starving.”

He suddenly realized what the rustling sound was. “Did you find food?” That Pop Tart had barely made a dent.