Dev knew it was the opposite the children sensed in him - that he was a pit bull, one who'd let no one and nothing get to them. "I'll be there."
"What about Katya? You want one of the others to keep an eye on her?"
"No. She comes with me." It was an instinctive response, threaded with an almost brutal possessiveness. Something in him flinched at that description, at the realization that he was losing the cold faster and faster.
But Glen didn't argue. "With the meds currently in his system, the boy isn't going to be coherent for at least two days, so we don't need you until then."
Hanging up after getting a few more details, Dev set his senses to searching. This aspect of his abilities, while very minor in the scheme of things, was an interesting offshoot of telepathy. He could literally scan a discrete area, correctly identify the individuals in each room, and if he was emotionally linked to someone, accurately guess at his or her mood.
Katya was sitting in the sunroom out front.
Her mood was opaque to him, her secrets hidden.
Slamming a glass on the counter, he poured the milk into the blender and scooped in some vitamin-laced protein mix. "Katya!"
She appeared in the kitchen doorway a minute later. "Yes?"
"What fruit?"
For an instant, he thought she'd tell him she wasn't hungry, in which case, this would've gotten ugly - his need to take care of her was a fucking fist in his gut, a violent protectiveness that demanded release. But she stepped closer and picked up a mango.
He gave her a knife. "Peel and chop."
Taking a second mango, he quickly did the same. He was done before she got halfway . . . because she kept licking at her fingers. His entire body became one giant pulse as he watched her close her lips around a finger and stroke it through. "Katya."
She colored, misreading that single strained word. "It tastes so good."
He couldn't help it. Raising a piece of the juicy yellow flesh to her lips, he said, "Open."
Eyes locked with his, she obeyed. Her lips - soft, lush, wet - brushed his fingertips as he fed her the fruit and it was the most erotic thing he'd ever felt. "Good?" he asked, his voice husky.
A nod, blonde hair catching the light. "Where's the ice cream?" An ordinary question, but the way she was looking at him said something else altogether.
Reminding himself that, everything else aside, she'd been unconscious not that long ago, he shut the door on a desire that threatened to undermine his every vow, his every promise. "I'll get it." Adding it to the mix, he finished blending everything and poured her a glass. "You're eating a sandwich, too."
"I'm not really hungry."
"Tough."
The glass she'd picked up met the counter with a bang. "What will you do if I don't eat?"
"Tie you to a chair and wait until you decide to cooperate. Then I'd feed you every bite." Shoving bread across the counter, he began to take out the fixings. "Start making your own, or I'll do the choosing."
This time, the look she shot him was pure female fury. "Just because you're bigger doesn't mean you have to be a bully."
"Just because you're a woman doesn't mean I'm going to let you get away with bullshit."
She slapped butter on her bread, then reached not for the ham or cheese, but for the raspberry jelly. "Quiet," she said when he opened his mouth.
Raising an eyebrow, he went to the pantry and brought back a jar of crunchy peanut butter. "Goes well together."
She shot him a suspicious look but took the jar. Not saying anything, he quickly put together his own sandwich, then took it and her smoothie to the table. Katya followed him a minute later, after putting away the jam and peanut butter with slow deliberation - as if hoping he'd be gone by the time she was done.
When she did sit, she kept her eyes resolutely on her meal.
He was, he realized, being ignored. Grinning, he sprawled back in his chair, his legs encroaching on her space.
Katya had spent her life in science. She might not remember much of it, but she knew she'd been cool, calm, collected, even beneath the Silence. But today, with Dev, she'd come startlingly close to losing her temper. And right now, she wanted to kick his feet away from her chair, aware he was deliberately pushing into her personal space.