Living With the Dead (Otherworld 9)

Hope's cheeks flamed. "I'm tired, Karl. Absolutely wiped out, and I just started babbling. I feel like an idiot for saying it. I don't want that at all. I was just... babbling."

He moved to sit on the side of the tub, where she had to look at him.

"You know it's not what I want, don't you?" he said. "That when I joke about the mating instinct and dragging you off to a cabin in the woods, I mean you. As you are. I don't mean - "

"I know."

Hope fixed her gaze on her toes bobbing over the water. He turned her face toward him, fingers resting on her chin.

"I mean it. That's not what I want. Consciously, subconsciously, unconsciously... I'm not fighting any temptation to turn you into a werewolf."

When she nodded, gaze down, he lifted her chin.

"You know that, don't you?"

Hope had never thought she was in danger of Karl biting her without her permission, as Clay had done to Elena, or that he'd ever find a way to do it "accidentally." But maybe she did worry a little that he'd prefer it. Werewolves weren't like other supernaturals. Like wolves, they preferred the company of their own kind.

"No," he said, as if reading her thoughts, his gaze locked with her, challenging her to read his vibes for any sign that he was lying. When he was satisfied she believed him, he pulled a washcloth off the rack and picked up a bar of soap.

"I'm not going anywhere, Hope," he said as he unwrapped the soap. "Tonight, I was just furious with myself for being too cavalier about the threat Gilchrist posed. Even before today I've downplayed the threat of you being attacked. I didn't want to admit that being with me might not be safe. I was thinking about how to resolve the problem, Hope, not how to run away from it. I need to make sure you understand the threat, and I need to teach you how to deal with it - how to fight a werewolf. That's all."

She'd known that. But she'd still flipped out. And the more she flipped out, the more her reaction - not his - terrified her.

He dipped the cloth into the water, squeezed it, lathered it up and wiped the back of her neck. "You picked up some dirt in the forest."

She bent her head forward, letting him wash. He moved down her back, moving in slow circles, the rough cloth sloughing away the night. Her eyes started to close.

He leaned her back against the tub, setting her head on the edge, then washed her shoulders. "I know I left you once."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say it didn't matter, it was forgotten. But it wasn't.

"I know I hurt you."

Again, she wanted to argue. But she couldn't.

"I know I said I won't leave again, but I also know that's not enough, and that the only way you're going to trust that I won't leave is if I don't."

He slid the cloth over her arms. "If this ends, Hope, it won't be me that ends it. I think you know that."

She twisted in the tub, rising, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. He scooped her up, dripping water, and carried her into the other room.

* * *

ROBYN

Robyn had been standing at the hotel bedroom door for ten minutes, her fingers on the handle as she listened for sounds from the other side.

Last night, she'd been too tired to ask questions and had used that as an excuse to herself for not asking. But, her first thought on waking had been I have to know.

She'd showered, dressed, made the bed and was now stalled at the door to the main room, where Hope and Karl were sleeping.

She counted to three. Then to five. Then told herself, on the count of ten, she absolutely would -

Goddamn it, just open it!

She knocked. It took a moment before she heard Hope's sleepy "come in." She cracked open the door. Hope was alone on the sofa bed, sitting up, blinking at the empty space beside her.

Robyn pointed at the closed bathroom door, light shining under it. "