The sudden stillness and absence of noise tickled my awareness. A door opened, and Carlos left me leaning against the seat. A moment later, an arm wrapped around my back and another slid under my legs. I floated for a second before he cradled me against his chest.
Struggling against sleep, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. Light chased the shadows on his face. Stubble coated the curve of his jaw. I couldn’t remember him ever having whiskers.
He glanced down at me, shadow covering his face, so I couldn’t read his expression.
“Go back to sleep. I have you.”
I sighed and closed my eyes again.
****
As I rolled from my back to my side, something told me to burrow in deeper and let sleep pull me under once more. My eyes refused to be team players.
Dim light shone from behind drawn curtains, giving the space around me definition. A bed across from mine. A table with a lamp attached to the wall above it. I gazed at the unfamiliar sights as my groggy mind tried to place where I might be.
The car. Carlos carrying me.
I blinked at the bed across from me. As if sensing my regard, Carlos rolled from his back to his side so he faced me. He wasn’t under the covers but on top of them, fully clothed. I could just see his face. His eyes were open.
I could feel the fear of a young child and the annoyance from another person further away but nothing nearby.
“Where’d Grey sleep?”
“With Jim, I think.”
Carlos made no move to get out of bed, so I didn’t either.
“How long have we been here?”
“Since two. About six hours.”
“Anyone else awake?”
“No.” He was quiet for a moment. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“I know you’re not fine. It’s been days since you sparred with anyone. You should—”
“No.”
He inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly.
“All right. Are you hungry?”
I shrugged.
“Get dressed,” he said, sitting up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He stood and left the room.
With a sigh, I left my warm nest and shuffled into the bathroom. The light nearly blinded me. I ignored my scabbed face in the mirror and paused at the sight of my brush, toothbrush, and paste neatly laid out on the counter. The bottom of each item was precisely in line with the rest.
Carlos had serious OCD going on.
It took me less than two minutes to use the toilet and brush my teeth and hair. I didn’t bother with clean clothes. What I’d slept in was good enough. I felt like crap on the inside and could care less how I looked on the outside.
In the main room, I found my runners at the end of the bed. I slipped on socks then laced up my shoes.
When I opened the hotel room door, Carlos waited in the hallway.
“Good morning, Isabelle,” he said softly.
I’d thought we’d already covered that in the room.
“Good morning.”
It seemed the correct response because he turned and started walking down the hall. I followed him, watching my feet. Carpet changed to tile, and I looked up. We were in a room just off the lobby. Actually, other than the change of flooring, it was essentially still the lobby. A counter ran along one wall. Three steamer trays, a clear display of muffins and mini-bagels, and a waffle maker summed up the hotel’s complimentary breakfast.
Carlos went to the steamers and lifted the first lid. I peeked around him and saw eggs. They smelled good, and my stomach actually rumbled. I picked up a plate and held it out like a kid in a cafeteria. He scooped a helping onto it then lifted the next lid. Bacon. He put three pieces on my plate. He lifted the final lid. French toast. I shook my head.
“I’d rather have a waffle.”
“I’ll start it for you. Sit down and eat.”
I did as he said. He brought me a cup of milk before he returned with a plate of his own and joined me.
Carlos watched me as I speared a clump of eggs and put it in my mouth.
The flavor took me off guard. It tasted good. My stomach rumbled until I finished the eggs. I set down my fork, using my fingers to bite into a piece of bacon. The saltiness was delicious. I chewed slowly, wondering why this food tasted so different. I wasn’t starving. I’d been eating. A little.
I realized the food hadn’t changed. I had. I was still angry, still devastated, but something was different.
A beep distracted me. I started chewing again and watched Carlos get up and go to the waffle maker. The thing he brought back was the size of my head. Probably the right portion size for werewolves.
Carlos set the plate before me then sat. I drowned the waffle in syrup and took a bite. It was good, just like the eggs had been. We ate in silence, and I tried not to think too much. When I did, my thoughts always found a way back to Ethan.
Just before I took my last bite, Clay, Gabby, Emmitt, Michelle, and Jim came in.
“I smell pancakes,” Jim said. He looked at Carlos and me for confirmation.
“Waffles,” I said when Carlos remained quiet.
“Just as good.” Jim playfully pushed his brother out of the way to get to the waffle maker first.
I turned away from their playful antics and waited for Carlos to finish. When he stood, he took both our plates.
“We’re supposed to meet in room 237 at ten,” Emmitt said to Carlos when he noticed us getting ready to leave.
Carlos nodded and threw our plates in the garbage. I followed him from the room with no intention of going to another one of their little packed-room meetings. Just the thought of it made me twitchy. Hiding out in my room sounded like a better plan.
When Carlos turned down a side hall, I didn’t question it; I’d been watching my feet on the way to the lobby. He turned again, and I absently followed until he stopped. I looked up, realizing I’d been watching my feet again, and saw where we were. An exercise room. The food in my stomach soured.
“No.”
He was too quick, though. He moved around me to close the door and stand in front of it.
“Yes.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and almost got mad. But I didn’t. It was too much effort. Besides, my anger was reserved now. For Blake and his kind.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“Just five minutes.”
“No.”
He studied me for a moment then stepped away from the door. His gaze didn’t waver as he advanced. There was something predatory in his moves that had me taking a step back.
“No,” I said again.
He seemed not to hear as he slowly stalked me. He would step forward. I would step back. Until there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go.
“I don’t want to spar.”
He didn’t stop until we stood toe to toe. Then he tilted his head to the side.
“I know.”
If he understood, why had he just broken my personal bubble? I stared at him, trying to guess what he meant to do. Did he really think he could make me fight?
After taking a moment to study my face, he slowly lifted his hands. My pulse leapt when they settled on my shoulders. His gaze didn’t waver from mine as his thumbs moved on my skin. Just tiny circles. It wasn’t aggressive, but it gave me an idea of what he was thinking. And that made me angry.
“Back off, Carlos.”
“No.”
His hands started to move, tracing down until his thumbs rested on my collarbones.
My arms were up between his, breaking the contact before he could move further.
“Got a problem?” he said calmly.
His words gave away his intention, but it didn’t change my answer.
“Yeah. You.”
“I’m not your problem, Isabelle.”
His calm tone worked its way under my skin, and before I knew I’d fisted my hand, I jabbed him in the right shoulder. The image of Ethan’s bruised shoulder flashed in my mind. My stomach pitched and tears threatened until Carlos spoke.
“You don’t need to baby me, Isabelle.”
Like I’d babied Ethan?
“Shut up and finish what you started.”
I gave him twenty minutes instead of five.