Night Shift (Kate Daniels #6.5)(34)

I glanced back at my reflection. I wanted to knock him off his feet, not make him fall down laughing. If I hadn’t already put mascara on, I would have cried.

None of it might matter anyway. It was twenty minutes past eight o’clock. Jim was late. Maybe he got held up. Maybe he changed his mind on this whole dating thing.

The doorbell rang.

Ah! I spun around the bathroom, grabbed my blue silk kimono, slipped into it, and ran down the stairs.

The doorbell chimed again. I checked the peephole. My heart skipped a beat. Jim!

I swung the door open. He stood on my doorstep, tall, dark, and so hot, it made me weak in the knees. I’d been crushing on him for years and every time I saw him, my breath still caught. His scent washed over me, the sandalwood, light musk, and creamy vanilla of his deodorant; the hint of citrus and spearmint in his shampoo; and the fragrance of his skin, a complicated mix of tangy sweat and slightly harsh male smell, blending into a multi-layered chorus that sang, “Jim” to me. All of my smart words disappeared and I turned into a half-wit.

“Hey!” Oh, great. Hay is for horses.

“Hi.” He shouldered his way into the house. He wore dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket over it. Jim usually wore black. His skin was a dark, rich brown, his black hair cut short, leaving his masculine face open.

He leaned forward. I stood on my toes and brushed a kiss on his lips. He didn’t kiss me back. Something was wrong.

“I’ve got a bottle of Cabernet Franc,” I said. Jim cooked like a chef and liked wine. The man at the wine store told me this was an award-winning wine. “From Tiger Mountain Winery.”

He nodded. I didn’t even get a smirk.

What if he were breaking up with me?

“I’ll go get it.” My voice turned squeaky. “Go ahead and sit down.”

I went into the kitchen, got the two wineglasses, and poured the deep red wine into the glasses. He couldn’t possibly be breaking up with me.

I grabbed the glasses and went into the living room.

Jim was asleep on my couch.

Oh no. Last time I found him asleep in my house, a spider creature had been feeding on his soul. Not again.

I shoved the glasses onto the side table, grabbed his shoulders, and shook. “Jim! Jim, talk to me.”

He blinked and opened his beautiful dark eyes. They were glazed over as if he weren’t fully there.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He peered at me. “I was challenged.”

In the Pack, personal challenges decided leadership. They meant a fight to the death. There was no mercy. “Who?”

“Roger Mountain,” he said.

Roger Mountain was a panther, vicious and ruthless. Jim was alive, so he had to have killed Roger, but I had seen Roger fight before. He tore his opponents into pieces.

“How bad?” I asked.

“Not that bad.”

“Jim?”

He raised the side of his T-shirt. His entire torso was dark. It took me a second to realize that it was one continuous bruise. Oh you silly idiot man. “Have medmages seen this?” The Pack had its own hospital and our medmages were some of the best.

“Sure.”

“What did they say?”

“They said it was fine.”

“I’m going to hit you with a wine bottle,” I growled. “What did they really say?”

“I spoke to Nasrin. She said bed rest for twenty-four hours.”

Of course, she recommended bed rest. The fight had to have drained Jim down to nothing, and changing shape took a lot of energy, especially now. Magic flooded our world in waves. When magic was up, spells worked and transforming was easier and still, if a normal shapeshifter changed form twice in twenty-four hours, Lyc-V, the shapeshifter virus, would shut your body down for a nap. I was exempt from this rule, because while I carried the virus, my magic was mystical in origin, but Jim’s wasn’t. With technology in control, a fight behind him, and two shape-changings, Jim should’ve been in bed, not here.

“So, instead of resting you shifted out of warrior form and drove here?” He couldn’t have been that reckless. He could’ve fallen asleep at the wheel.

Jim yawned. “I didn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at me. “You look really pretty.”

Oh you stupid dummy.

“I’m just going to sit here for a second,” he said and closed his eyes.

Jim was six feet tall. My couch was tiny. If he fell asleep here, he wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning. “Nasrin said bed rest, not couch rest.” I wedged my shoulder under his armpit. “Come on. We’re going upstairs to the bedroom.”

His eyes lit up for half a second. “Well, if you insist . . .”

“I insist.” I pulled him upright. I was a vegetarian weretiger, but I was still a shapeshifter. I could’ve carried him up the stairs except I didn’t think he would let me. “Come on.”

We walked up the stairs and I deposited him on the bed. I loved huge soft beds, and this one was a queen with a mattress topper so thick I had to hop to get onto it. Jim landed on it and sank in. I reached for his boots, but he sat up. “I’ve got it.”

His boots hit the floor. He lay back and closed his eyes. I slipped into the closet and pulled off my lingerie. I didn’t want him to see me in it. If he did, he might think that I had a plan for the evening and was upset because it collapsed. I didn’t care about the plan. I just wanted him to be okay. I threw on a pair of plain cotton panties and a white tank top, came out, and slipped into the bed next to him.