Broken (Otherworld 6)

"I'm not sure you'd like the second one...it's not really your kind of thing. Nah, maybe I shouldn't mention it..."

I tweaked a lock of his hair. "Talk."

"Well, number two ends the same as number one--"

"Shocking."

"--but it starts with a run. In the city."

I shivered and pressed against him. "Mmm, yes."

"You'd like that?"

There was genuine surprise in his voice. Normally, I did love city runs. They were forbidden fruit, not being the kind of "safe werewolf activity" Jeremy endorsed. Lately, though, my attitude toward running in general had been far from my usual. Yet now...Well, I'd had a taste of excitement and wasn't quite willing to hurry home.

I slid my hands down his back, my lips going to his ear. "I'd love it."

From behind us came a sigh, then a mutter that sounded like "Figures," followed by "Elena, get off Clay. Clay, get dressed. Now."

"We were just--"

"Oh, I know what you were doing, but you can wait ten minutes, until we get to the hotel."

I pulled away from Clay. "Please, do you really think we'd interrupt our getaway for sex?"

Jeremy just gave me a look.

"Okay, maybe we would, but not tonight."

Jeremy scooped up the letter. "Clay? Get your clothes on. Meet us at the car."

"You go on," I said. "I'll wait--"

Jeremy grabbed my arm and led me away.

Victoriana

JEREMY HAD WANTED TO HEAD STRAIGHT TO THE HOTEL, but I convinced him I wasn't ready to turn in yet. Wrangling permission for a city run wasn't something I could do on the fly.

So I claimed restlessness and dehydration, circumstances that would prevent me from getting the good night's rest I needed. The cure? A warm milky drink and a long walk. Since we hoped to turn that walk into a city run, I asked if we could grab that drink at a popular late-night coffee bar close to downtown. Then we headed into the quiet residential Cabbagetown area for our walk.

I strolled down the narrow street, listening to Clay talk about some article on bear cults he'd read last week. Jeremy and I nodded at appropriate junctures and sipped our coffees. Mine was a latte, of course--for the milk. Whole milk. Seems odd, specifically requesting whole milk, but Jeremy insisted. He also insisted on plenty of ice cream and cheese and other whole-fat dairy products. He said it was for the milk content, but I suspected he was trying to fatten me up for motherhood.

Besides my stomach, the only thing that had plumped up were my breasts. Yes, for the first time in my life, I actually had breasts--the kind that could be seen even under a baggy shirt. Not that it mattered. My belly stuck out farther.

As the midnight hour passed, the heat lifted and a cool night breeze found its way through the armor of skyscrapers into the narrow residential streets. I liked Cabbagetown. I'm not much of a city dweller anymore, but this is the kind of place I'd choose, a quiet old neighborhood just a few minutes' walk from the bustle of downtown.

The narrow street was lined with small, two-story, multihued houses, the tiny front yards jealously guarded by fences of every description, from stone to wrought-iron to white-picket. The era was Victorian, and every architectural detail I associated with the period was evi

dent in a single sweep--gingerbread, gables, wraparound porches, balconies, cupolas, spires, stained glass.

Though we could hear the roar of Yonge Street a few blocks over, there was a hush here, as if the trees arching over the road were an insulating blanket, letting the residents sleep amid the chaos of the city core. We walked down the middle of the road, our footsteps echoing softly, our voices barely above a whisper.

To our right was a line of parked cars. The houses predated driveways and didn't have enough room between to add them. Most of the cars were midpriced imports, with few minivans or SUVs. This was a neighborhood for seniors and couples, not families.

Jeremy drained the last of his coffee and looked around, but of course there was no place to toss the cup.

"Here," I said, and opened my bag.