Harper slowed as he headed out of the room, but not much. He wanted to see Drina. He wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go. A man got a lot of things straight when he was forced to face his own mortality, and Harper had realized some things. He loved the damned woman. He'd come to love her fire, her passion, her wit, and her strength. And he was glad as hell she hadn't been in that room when the firebomb or whatever it was had come flying through the window.
"A Molotov cocktail," Stephanie said behind him, as he started down the stairs. He only realized she was naming whatever it was that had exploded all over them, when she explained, "The memory of the fire chief saying that was one of Teddy's surface memories . . . Thank you for dragging me out of the porch."
Harper slowed at her quiet words and turned to slip his arm around her shoulders affectionately, muttering, "My pleasure."
Stephanie slipped her own arm around his waist and squeezed briefly, then slid past him on the stairs and hurried the rest of the way to the main floor, turning right at the bottom as if she knew where she was going. Harper followed since he didn't have a clue of the layout of the house, and they turned into a dining room, where Stephanie paused abruptly, her mouth dropping.
Harper followed her gaze, spotted Drina slumped miserably on a stool in the kitchen at the opposite end of the house and started toward her at once. Relief coursed through him just at the sight of her. He was passing Stephanie when she made an odd sound that had him glancing toward her. He frowned as he realized that her mouth hadn't dropped open in surprise; the girl was heaving.
Slowing reluctantly, he asked, "Are you all-" And then he came to a shuddering halt as the smell hit him. His head jerked back to Drina with horror just as her head came up.
She peered at them blankly for a second, and then relief lit up her face like a Christmas tree. She promptly leapt off her stool and rushed forward, clutching what appeared to be a ratty old sheet around her as she hurried to him.
"Oh, Harper, Stephanie. Oh thank God!" she cried. "I've been so worried."
Despite himself, Harper took a quick step back at her approach, but then caught himself and forced himself to stand still. He also stopped breathing, however, holding his breath in a desperate bid to keep from gagging as the woman he loved threw herself at him and hugged him.
Drina held him tightly and for a very, very long time. At least it seemed a very long time to him as he continued to hold his breath, but then she finally pulled pack to peer up at him happily. Her smile was wide, her eyes glowing . . . until she saw his face. Concern immediately replaced her relief.
"You're terribly flush," she said with a frown. "Have you had enough blood? Maybe you should lie down for a bit. Are you-Harper, you're turning purple!"
"I'm fine." He sighed on an exhale and pulled her to his chest again so that she wouldn't see his face as he inhaled another breath. Dear God, he thought as the toxic fumes wafted from the love of his life to fill his mouth and lungs. Oh Good Lord in heaven, he moaned inwardly, barely managing not to whimper aloud.
"I wanted to come up-" Drina began, and then paused as she peered past him. "Stephanie? What are you doing way over- Oh."
She deflated like a punctured balloon, and then flushed with mortification and-avoiding Harper's eyes-scrurried quickly back to her stool. She crawled back onto it, her shoulders slumped and every line of her body speaking of misery. Her voice was much subdued when she said, "I'm glad you're both all right, and that you came down so I could see for myself. You can both go back upstairs now with the others, though, if you like. I understand."
Harper turned to see that Stephanie had moved over to a desk holding a computer, about as far as she could get and stay in the room. He supposed that and the girl's dismayed expression were what had recalled Drina to the matter of her scent.
Sighing, he glanced back to Drina, and then forced himself to move across the room to join her. With every step, he assured himself that his senses would deaden to the scent quickly, and he could bear it till they did. Still, he couldn't help holding his breath as he approached and stood in front of her.
"What-?" she began when he appeared before her. But when Harper simply caught her upper arms and pulled her against his chest, she fell against him with a little sniffle that told him how much it meant to her. He suspected his Drina did not cry often, if at all. A weepy woman would never have passed for a male pirate, and he doubted gladiators could afford the luxury of weeping, either.
Harper heard her inhale and glanced down curiously to see that she had her nose pressed to his chest and was trying to inhale his scent. He wondered that she could smell anything over her own stench, so wasn't terribly surprised when Drina sighed miserably, and mourned, "I can't smell you. I love your scent, but I can't smell you."
Harper didn't have a clue what to say to that, and really, speaking would mean releasing the air in his lungs and taking in another. He desperately wanted to avoid doing that until absolutely necessary, so was grateful for the distraction when the door beside them suddenly opened, and Anders entered, bags in hand.
Drina was out of his arms and on Anders at once. "Did you get everything?"
"Dear God, woman! Get back. You stink," Anders barked.
Harper scowled at the man. It was no more than Drina was doing, however. He wasn't surprised her moment of sniffly misery had passed and her naturally fiery nature had reasserted itself. This was more the Alexandrina Argenis he knew.
Eyes narrowing, Drina moved closer instead of getting back as Anders had ordered, and then hissed up at the Russian. "And you're the most miserable SOB I've ever encountered, so I guess we all have our crosses to bear." She snatched the bags from him, and then turned away adding, "The difference is I'm about to bathe away this smell, but when I come down, you'll still be a miserable SOB."
Harper found a smile pulling his mouth wide as he watched Drina make her exit, walking out of the room with her eyes blazing and head high, as regal as any queen.
"Damn, she's magnificent," he breathed, positive he must be the luckiest bastard on the planet to have found her.
"Glad you think so," Anders said dryly. "Then you can take these instructions up to her so she doesn't screw it up and use the stuff in the wrong order or something."
Harper glanced down at the paper the hunter shoved at him, noting the title Instructions on How to Remove Skunk Odor from a Human. He glanced back to Anders and smiled widely. "I'll even help her follow the instructions."
"I'll bet you will," Anders said dryly.
Chapter Thirteen
Drina closed the bathroom door behind her with a kick of her heel, set the bags of soap, tomato juice, and vinegar on the bathroom counter, and then turned to the tub, only to pause with a frown. Was she supposed to just pour all this stuff in the tub, or was she supposed to add water or what? She hadn't a clue. She needed the instructions.