Charles pushed his shoulders back in the seat as they caromed around an icy corner and onto the back road to his house. "You should see her with a rolling pin." He didn't try hiding the satisfaction in his voice. He was feeling better all the time. His ears had quit ringing, and his control was back. A little food and sleep, and he'd be almost back to normal.
"Would you like to come in?" he asked more out of politeness than desire.
"No." Da shook his head. "Send Sage home, too. She'll want to talk, but you and Anna need some time. Anna was pretty upset by the end of the service."
Charles looked up sharply. "I thought that was just a reaction to the funeral. Too many people she didn't know."
"No, there was something more."
Charles ran through the last of the funeral service, but he couldn't see what his father had. "I didn't notice anything."
"Sure you did." His da gave him a wry smile. "Why do you think you were so frantic when she drove off?"
"Was it the business with Asil?" If Asil had upset her, maybe Charles would take care of him and his father wouldn't have to bother.
Bran shook his head and laughed. "I keep telling you I can put thoughts in people's heads, but I can't take them out. I don't know what was bothering her. Ask her."
Miraculously, they arrived at his door without mishap. Charles slid down out of the Vee and thought for a moment his knees were going to let him slide all the way to the ground.
His father watched him carefully, but didn't offer to help.
"Thanks." He hated being weak, hated it more when people tried to baby him. At least he'd hated it until Anna.
"Get inside before you fall down," was all his da said. "That'll be thanks enough."
Either moving helped, or the cold, but his knees quit wobbling, and he was walking almost normally again by the time he made it to the front door.
His father honked twice and drove off as soon as his hand hit the doorknob. Charles walked into the house to find Sage and Anna sitting across from each other in the dining room, a cup of tea in front of each of them. But his nose told him that Anna had had another visitor, too.
He'd felt silly when he'd had his father send Sage over. But Leah's scent made him glad of his paranoia. It hadn't taken Leah long to make her first move.
Sage broke off whatever she was going to say to Anna and gave him a once-over instead. "Charlie," she said, "you look like hell." She jumped up, kissed him on the cheek, then went into the kitchen and dumped her cup in the sink.
"Thanks," he said dryly.
She grinned. "I'm going to go and leave you two honey-mooners to yourselves. Anna, don't you let him keep you here in his cave-give me a call and we'll do a girl's trip to Missoula for shopping or something." She breezed by and patted Charles's shoulder lightly before exiting.
Anna sipped her tea and looked at him out of dark, unfathomable eyes. She'd pulled her hair back with a band this morning, and he missed the whiskey-colored curls around her face.
"She called you 'Charlie,' " she said.
He raised an eyebrow.
She smiled, a sudden expression that lit her face. "It doesn't suit you."
"Sage is the only one who gets away with it," he admitted. "Fortunately."
She stood up. "Can I get you some tea? Or something to eat?"
He'd been hungry on the way home, but suddenly all he wanted to do was sleep. He wasn't even too keen on walking down the hallway. "No, I think I'll just go to bed."
She took her cup into the kitchen and put both cups in the dishwasher. Despite his words, he followed her into the kitchen. "What did your brother say?" she asked.
"There was still some silver in my calf. So he cleaned it out."
She glanced sharply at his face. "Not fun."
He couldn't help smiling at her understatement. "No."
She tucked herself under his arm. "Come on, you're swaying. Let's get you to bed before you fall down."
He didn't mind her help at all. She could even have called him Charlie, and he wouldn't have objected, as long as her side brushed his.
She helped him out of his clothes-he hadn't put his suit jacket back on, so it wasn't too painful. While he got in bed, she pulled down the blinds, shutting out the light. When she started to pull the covers up, he caught her hand.
"Stay with me?" he asked. He was too tired for talk, but he didn't want her alone with whatever his father had noticed was bothering her, either.
She froze, and the scent of her sudden terror tested the control he'd found since his brother had rid him of the last of the silver. There was nothing for him to kill except ghosts, so he controlled the surge of protective rage and waited to see what she would do. He could have released her hand, and he was ready to do so-but only if she pulled away.
He wasn't sure why it had scared her so badly when she'd slept with him last night, until she dropped her eyes to his hand on hers. Someone had grabbed her, he thought, maybe more than once. As rage began to rise in him, she turned her hand and closed it over his.
"All right," she said a little hoarsely.
After half a second she pulled her hand out of his and sat on the bed to take off her tennis shoes. Still in her jeans and shirt, she lay next to him, her body stiff and unwilling.
He rolled over, giving her his back and hoping that would reassure her that he wasn't going to push her more. He was amused at himself to discover that it wasn't only for her sake that he'd asked her to stay. felt better with her safe beside him. He fell asleep listening to her breathing.
* * * *
He smelled good. As his body relaxed in sleep, she could feel the tension slide away from her own. She hadn't been wounded, but she was tired, too. Tired of being on display, tired of trying to figure out what she should be doing, tired of worrying that she had jumped out of one frying pan into a different one.
She had so many questions. She hadn't asked him about his stepmother's strange reaction to her, or about Asil, because he'd looked as if he'd fall asleep as soon as he quit moving-which was pretty much what had happened.
She looked at her wrist, but there were no new bruises there; he hadn't hurt her at all. She didn't know why the feel of his hand around her wrist had caused her to panic-most of the abuse she'd taken her wolf kept hidden from her. But her body retained the memory of a crushing grip and someone shouting at her while he hurt her...and she was trapped and couldn't get away from him.
Pulse pounding, she felt the change hovering as her wolf prepared to protect her again. She took in Charles's scent and let it flow over her, soothing the wolf; Charles would never hurt her, both she and her wolf were convinced of that.