She scowled. “I could still leave you.”
“But you won’t.” He gave her such a sexy smile that she melted, but then she stiffened her backbone. “You need to get up, and we need to get away from here.” She pushed herself up and held out a hand. He slid his palm into hers and tightened his fingers. His expression hardened, and he gritted his teeth. She pulled, and he managed to stumble to his feet. For a second he leaned on her, his face in the curve where her shoulder met her neck so his breath whispered against her skin. Then he straightened but didn’t release his hold, his free hand curving around her shoulder. While she was tall, he was taller, but she somehow managed to keep him upright as they staggered along the beach. He didn’t speak, and when she glanced at his face, his mouth was twisted in a grimace of pain.
He lost consciousness about a minute from her place. Searching inside herself, she found a strength she hadn’t known she possessed and somehow managed to manhandle him the last fifty feet.
She almost sobbed with relief as she dropped him to the sand and pushed open the gate that led into the grounds of the small villa she’d rented. She turned around, grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him inside and up the short pathway. It occurred to her that she shouldn’t be able to do this. Shifters in their human form did not possess extra strength, but she pushed the thought aside. Another thing she would think about later. Along with everything else.
Resting his limp body against the wall, she pulled the keycard from her pocket and opened the door. Then she heaved him inside, kicking the door closed behind her. She took him into the bedroom, but couldn’t manage to lift him onto the double bed. Instead she dropped him to the floor and sank down onto the mattress behind her.
She scrubbed at her face, found it damp. She was crying. Just the stress of the night. And the relief of getting to relative safety.
But before she could relax, she needed to wake him so he could shift and heal. She shook his shoulder, but nothing happened. In the bathroom, she ran a cloth under the cold water, came back and knelt beside him. As she stroked the cool towel over his forehead, his eyes fluttered open.
“We’re safe,” she murmured.
“Shit. I fainted. Werewolves don’t fucking faint.”
“Not fainted. Passed out. I think you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Yeah.” He looked up into her face, and his lips curled into a slight smile. “You think you can undress me, kitten?”
Her eyes widened at his words and the smile grew. Then he grimaced. “Much as I’d love to play the stranger from your fantasies, right now I don’t think there’s enough blood left in my body to be much good to you.”
“Oh.”
“It’s easier to shift if we strip first.”
“Really? That must be inconvenient.” Shifters didn’t need to do that—whatever they wore changed with them. A sure sign that shifters were superior to werewolves.
“Yeah.”
She swallowed. She could do this. Scooting down his body, she started at the bottom, unlacing his boots and tugging them off, tossing them across the room, then his socks. Her heart was racing as she moved back up and tugged his blood-soaked T-shirt over his chest. He pushed himself up slightly and she hauled it over his head and added it to the growing pile. His skin was golden, his chest broad and crisscrossed with angry wounds, still seeping fresh blood.
Just his jeans now, and she licked her lips as she contemplated her next move.
“Never undressed a man before?” he teased. When she didn’t answer, his eyes widened. “You’re shitting me?”
She still didn’t answer. His skin was chalky, she needed to move, and this was no time to act the shy virgin. Anyway, she wasn’t shy—it was impossible to grow up shy in a demon household. That she was still a virgin was her own choice—it had seemed one way she could actually be in control of her life. Or maybe it was that she’d been waiting for her dream lover, her fairy-tale prince to turn up and whisk her off her virginal feet.
Either way, she was pathetic.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned over him and fumbled with his belt buckle, finally managing to get it open. Her fingers moved to the buttons on his fly. She flicked open one, then the next until they were all undone.
Moving to his feet, she grasped the denim at his ankles and pulled. His underwear came off with his jeans, leaving him naked. Even bloody and beaten he was gorgeous, long and lean, the muscles clearly delineated under his skin. She couldn’t resist a quick peek at his groin. Limp against the black curls at the base of his belly, he appeared curiously vulnerable, and she forced her gaze up to his face.