Artificial light was streaming though a faux window when I woke. David was lying next to me in nothing but the jeans he had been wearing the night before. Beyond him I could see Sydney sitting, reading a paperback, his vintage t-shirt hanging over the side of her chair. I think her mothering was going systemic—all she needed was a pair of knitting needles and she'd be in the running for mother of the year. David's hair was a hot mess, fanning out from his head in a curly black halo. His jaw was slightly relaxed, which allowed me to see that he had passed out (died? fallen asleep?) with his fangs down. Mmm, yummy. Was it wrong that I wanted to lick them? A slight smattering of barely-visible freckles I hadn't noticed before covered his nose and cheeks. I stole a long glance at the chest I had been sleeping on—it was truly a work of art. His broad shoulders were chiseled and cut, his pectorals and abs well defined. A 'V' made of muscle framed his small waist. His skin was the color of homemade vanilla ice cream. A small happy trail started just below his belly button and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. Was I drooling?
I glanced back up at Sydney, making sure no one caught my oogle-fest. "Hey," I said after clearing my throat. It looked as if I was left to appreciate David's holy-hotness all on my own.
She looked up from her paperback, oblivious to my ogling session. "Hey, hun! I thought you were never going to wake up!" She bookmarked her page with an old picture of the two of us in high school and tossed it to the bedside table.
"How long have I been out?" There were questions that I had forgotten to ask David last night, this being one of them.
"Five days." She must have seen the worry on my face. "Jeanne got another PhD to cover a couple of week's worth of teaching, and she said not to come back to the lab for at least a month. She was here earlier, but you know her." I did, she had one of the most hectic schedules I have ever seen. I'm not sure if she ever got a chance to eat or sleep.
"So?" I laid back down on David's shoulder and carefully slid my arm around his waist. Not too sore. "What happened?" I asked. She looked at me like I had asked her the square of the log of pi. "With the attacks?" I clarified.
"Oh! That feels like it was so long ago, now. Shifters—which I'm still coming to terms with, by the way—were stationed discretely at all of the places that they thought might be targeted. There were 5 attackers in total, one hit The Post, one hit B-Dubs," what the locals call Buffalo Wild Wings, "one hit Rum Runners, and one attacked a biweekly meeting of a religious tolerance group on campus, which leaves the one that came after you." She looked slightly chagrined at the end of that sentence. "The three that hit the bars were stopped by the groups of shifters. No one was guarding the religious tolerance meeting and a man was shot, but will recover. The cops caught that guy shortly after while riding an unregistered bike on campus." I rolled my eyes; idiot. I noticed she felt no need to explain what happened to Tim. "You got the worst of it hun, and I'm sooo sorry about that."
"Don't worry about it," I said dismissively. "You and David can't watch me 24-hours a day."
"I think David's mad at me for letting down my guard," she replied sheepishly.
"Then just tell him to shove it. That's what I'd do," I said with a smile and a wink, which predictably cheered her right up. "Can you help me up? I have to use the bathroom." Before I could finish my sentence, she jolted up and helped me to my feet, dragging the IV pole behind me as I slowly ambled to the bathroom. Surprisingly, I wasn't the shot-and-beaten kind of sore, I was more the haven't-moved-in-days kind of sore. After tending to my business, I stole a glance in the mirror. The bruises on my face were almost gone, only greeny-yellow shadows of what they must have been. The large gash on my hairline was now a small, pinkish scar I could barely see. I lifted up my tank top and inspected the bandage around my ribs; there was almost no bruising and there was only got a slight tenderness when I fingered the sensitive areas. I tried the range of motion of my injured shoulder; it only stung slightly as I gingerly rotated it. I prodded the bandage on my thigh, getting just a small twinge in response.
When I emerged, a slim, older wolf in a lab coat was standing in my room, talking to Sydney. He was quite tall, with short black hair that was graying at the temples. His light russet skin, strong cheekbones and jaw line made me think he must have some Native American ancestry. When he turned to me, I could see his eyes were the color of warm chocolate. "Ms. McIntosh, I'm Dr. Patrick Lupe. It's nice to see you up and about," he said as he helped me back to the bed. Once I was on my back again, he took the liberty of taking my blood pressure and examined my various wounds. "Well, I don't see why you can't go home tonight, if you'd like."
"I would, very much," I answered as I sat up again. I knew I was piling up medical bills by the dozens after a week-long stay at the hospital, and the basic health insurance provided by the Graduate Union wasn't going to cover even half of it.
He picked up the chart from the end of my bed and tucked it under his arm. "I'll get the paperwork rolling, then." He gave me a quick smile and headed for the door, stopping at the threshold of the door and turning, as if he had forgotten something. "And thank you for the forewarning. It would have been bad for all the supernaturals in the area if the Fellowship was allowed to gain a stronghold in Lansing. The pack owes you; please remember us if you ever need anything."
I gave him a smile. "Anytime." I had a feeling he was the head dog (har de har de har) in the local Were pack. It would be nice to be on his good side.
I started to get dressed while the paperwork was started. Unfortunately, Emma's beautiful dress was ruined, but Sydney had thought to bring me a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a button down shirt. She had also washed the mud and blood off my favorite pair of sandals. Sydney and I have never been shy about our bodies around one another, so I shucked the new pajamas and threw them at her. "Where'd these come from?"
She caught them and folded them into a neat pile, smile blossoming on her face. "David had Lee pick those up for you," she snickered. There was a quick beat before Sydney and I guffawed in unison. Lee, the reclusive, always serious, no nonsense, stick in the mud vampire went pajama shopping for his brother-in-law's girlfriend? I just couldn't see it. I laughed so hard my side started hurting again, but I just couldn't stop. I collapsed back onto the bed, curling into a ball and repeating, "Oh, God, it hurts," as I continued to laugh hysterically. When I regained my composure several minutes later, I straightened out and put on the old jeans over a pair of new panties. I didn't want to know where the panties came from. I would never be able to look Lee in the eye again if I knew he got me fire engine red lace boy shorts. Sydney held up the other half of the set. "You want to wear a bra? I don't know how that'd feel on your shoulder…"
I considered my options quickly, and decided on the bra. I don't care what the circumstances are, prancing around with your C-cups being buffeted by the wind is neither appropriate nor comfortable. Sydney helped me hook it in the back, and I pulled on the white button down. The shirt was old and worn, and with a bright red bra underneath, horribly see-through. This was not going to work. Draped on another chair across the room was a man's dark blue oxford, so I traded. I rubbed the collar up against my face; it smelled like David.
Just before we were going to leave, a small piece of paper slid under the door. Sydney was the one to pick it up. "Oh boy."
She handed me the piece of paper. On it was a list of charges totaling a sum I wouldn't be able to pay off in years. At the bottom, the balance read $0.00 and a note that said, 'Thanks from your supernatural community'. Oh boy, indeed. I shoved the bill in my purse and headed out the door.