Part 63 (1/2)

Grabbing as much of the covers as she could, she laid down and pulled them up to her chin before whispering, ”Simon?”

A grunt that sounded like it came from the floor on the other side of the bed. Then a human head came in sight, and Simon Wolfgard stared at her with amber eyes that held flickers of red-a sure sign he was p.i.s.sed off.

”You awake now?” he growled.

”Yes,” she replied meekly.

”Good.”

She had a glimpse of lean muscle and naked skin before he scrambled under the covers. She turned away from him, her heart pounding with a different kind of fear.

He never slept with her in his human form. What did it mean that he was human now? Did he want . . . s.e.x? She wasn't . . . She didn't . . . She wasn't even sure she could with . . . But what if he expected . . . ?

”S-Simon?” A tremble in her voice.

”Meg?” Still plenty of growl in his voice.

”You're not a Wolf.”

”I'm always a Wolf.”

”But you're not a furry Wolf.”

”No, I'm not. And you're hogging the covers.” That said, he grabbed the covers she was clinging to and yanked.

She tumbled into him. Before she could decide what to do, the covers were around both of them, and he had her pinned between his body and the bed.

”Stop squirming,” he snapped. ”If you bruise more than the hip you kicked, I will bite you.”

She stopped squirming, but not because he had threatened to bite her. Prophecies and visions swam in her blood, released when her skin was cut. Simon knew that, so he wouldn't tear her flesh. But in the past couple of weeks, he'd figured out how to nip her through her clothes hard enough to hurt without damaging skin-Wolf discipline adjusted to dealing with her kind of human.

She'd stumbled into the Lakeside Courtyard seven weeks ago, half frozen and looking for a job. Simon had threatened to eat her on a regular basis those first few days, which wasn't his typical way of dealing with employees since most of them would have responded by writing their resignation as they ran for the door. But when the Others discovered she was a blood prophet on the run from the man who had owned her, they had chosen to treat her as one of their own. And protect her as one of their own, especially after she fell through the ice and almost drowned while leading an enemy away from Simon's nephew Sam. Which was why, since her return from the hospital, she went to sleep every night with Simon curled up beside her, on guard.

She'd be less happy about the lack of nighttime privacy if that furry body didn't make such a difference in keeping her warm.

Was that why her apartment was always chilly, so she wouldn't make a fuss about Simon sleeping with her? It hadn't occurred to her to make a fuss about it because he was a Wolf. Except now he wasn't a wolfy-looking Wolf, and Simon as a human in bed with her felt . . . different. Confusing. Threatening in a way she didn't want to explain.

But furry or not, he was still warm and he wasn't doing anything, and it was still too early to think about getting up, so this was something . . . to ponder . . . tomorrow.

She started to drift back to sleep when Simon gave her a little shake and said, ”What scared you?”

She should have known he wouldn't let it go. And maybe he was right not to let it go. Her abilities as a prophet had changed since she'd escaped from the compound and ended up living with the Others. She was more sensitive now, to the point where she didn't always need to cut her skin to see visions-especially if they concerned her in some way.

The images were fading. She knew there were already things she'd seen in the dream that she couldn't recall. Would she remember anything by morning? And yet, even the thought of recalling the dream made her shudder.

”It was nothing,” she said, wanting to believe it. ”Just a dream.” Even blood prophets had ordinary dreams. Didn't they?

”It scared you enough that you kicked me off the bed. That's not nothing, Meg.” Simon's arm tightened around her. ”And just so you know? You may be small, but you kick like a moose. Which is something I'm telling the rest of the Wolves.”

Great. Just what she needed. Yep, that's our Liaison. Meg Moosekicker.