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“L-Lev?” Dare says quietly, breaking me out of my heart-stopping stupor. “You were staring,” he says, a smile creeping onto his lips. But he seems to waver, and his face pales. “Hold that thought,” he says, and he runs into the bathroom and pukes again.

I sigh and sit on my bed, pushing my hands through my hair on either side of my temples. A moment later, I hear him brushing his teeth, and then he comes out of the bathroom, wiping his eyes and mouth with the towel he used to dry off after his shower.

“You can sleep in the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” I tell him, standing up. “Take these and drink water.” I point to the pain relievers on the bedside table and the bottle of water. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

Dare walks over and crawls into my bed. I grab a pillow and the blanket that’s draped off the end of the mattress, and he pulls the covers up over his head.

“The pills, Darian,” I say, and he pushes the comforter back.

“Mr. Bossy again,” he mumbles, adding, “I like it.”

I hope that he doesn’t hear my breath catch. Was he flirting? I shake off the feeling and hand the pills to him as he sits up, the tips of my fingers grazing his palm. The touch is warm and tingly, and I don’t want to lose it. I close my hand over his and squeeze his fingers down to hold the pills. Dare’s lips turn up into what looks like a half smile. I try to ignore what that does to me too, and instead, I hand him the water. He rolls his eyes and swallows the pills, then lies back down with a sigh.

I turn to walk out of the room, releasing a ragged breath. I didn’t want him to see me fighting the urge to join him in my bed.

When I get to the door, I hear him say, ever so quietly, “Lev?”

I turn around, and just the top of his head and his tired green eyes are peeking out from under the comforter.

“Could you . . .? Can we . . .? Would you mind . . .?” He shakes his head and rolls over. “Never mind.”

Confused, I stay there and watch the lump of his body filling the middle of my bed. For a fleeting second, I consider the thought again that I want to crawl into bed beside him and hold him.

That’s absurd.

He must still feel my presence, and he shifts slightly before he says, “Night, Lev.”

I turn off the light and quietly close the door. “Night, little lycan.”

Chapter 12

Darian

There’s a painfully loud drumline marching in my head, pounding with an uneven beat. My mouth feels like I slept with a wad of cotton balls on my tongue. I roll over and wince. Something isn’t right. I stretch and notice that my bed doesn’t smell like my bed. It smells different, amazing, like some sort of musk and woodsy scent. I inhale and stretch again, turning my nose to the pillow. This isn’t Lance’s bed, either. His bed has scratchy sheets. These sheets are soft and smell so good.

Damn, my head hurts.

Where am I?

I crack my eyes open and try to look around the room. Then I slowly sit up, hanging my legs over the side of the bed. I’m in a T-shirt and sweatpants, and neither are mine. There’s a bottle of water on the table next to me, and so I take it and have a swig, the crinkle of the plastic making me cringe. I have to pee, and the pounding in my head is making it hard to keep my eyes open.

Standing up carefully, I sway nauseously and lean on the side table for support, swallowing the lump in my throat. There’s an attached bathroom just to my left, and I wobble over, using the furniture and wall to stabilize myself. At the sink, I splash some water on my face and see a toothbrush and toothpaste sitting on the counter. They’re not mine, but they look out of place there. Moving over to the toilet to relieve myself, I start to remember bits and pieces from last night. Out at the Exchange. Keira was there. And it was loud and noisy. Pool. We were playing pool. And it was drinking pool, so I must have had a lot because I suck at that game.

I vaguely remember something happening. And then falling. And then I was in Lev’s car, and—

Shit.

Shit, I’m at Lev’s house. Shit, shit, shit. I tuck myself back into the sweatpants and wash my hands. Then I take a deep breath and head back to the bedside table to grab my phone. It’s five thirty in the morning. I can’t be here.

Where is he?

Did we . . . No, I’d remember that, for sure. I’d be pissed if I was too intoxicated to remember that moment.

My mind is a mess, and my head continues to throb. And all I really know right now is that I need to go. I need to get out of here.

If I’m quiet, maybe I can sneak out, walk home. It’s not too far of a walk, and I have no other options, really. It’s so early, and I don’t want to wake anyone else up.

I don’t know where my clothes are, so I quietly open the bedroom door and look around. I hear soft snoring from the couch, and when I stretch up to peek over the edge, I see Lev sleeping there, a blanket thrown over his broad shoulders and his hand resting on his stomach.