Turning to the mirror over the sink, she winced at her reflection. Bed-head. Smudged lip gloss. Pasty face. Mascara goop at the corners of her red-rimmed eyes. And he’d seen her this way? Devon groaned, mortified. What bothered her more was that he’d seen her looking so frail. She didn’t want to show any weakness around him or his demon.
Devon finger-combed her hair as best she could, smoothing away the frizz. She fumbled for the toothpaste and scrubbed some on her teeth and tongue with her finger, wanting that tacky taste out of her mouth. Then she turned on the faucet, wet her hands with warm water, and went to work on her face.
Done, she checked her appearance again. Well, the makeup residue was mostly gone, and her eyes seemed a little more alert, but she was still a wince-worthy sight. At least she no longer looked like she belonged on an appeal poster for hurricane survivors.
A little steadier on her feet, she shuffled back into the bedroom. God, she just wanted to curl up on the bed. Or even the floor. Any flat surface would do, really.
Devon almost flinched as the doorknob turned. Tanner slipped into the room, fluid and silent. God, she needed to put a bell around the guy’s neck or something and … oh, the goddamn gem had brought her coffee. She fairly salivated at the smell of it.
“You’re awake,” he said in that deep, gravelly voice that reached so deep inside her she felt it in her bones. “Good. Thought you could use this.”
She cleared her dry throat and took the steaming mug he held out. “Thank you,” she rasped. Her demon pushed against her skin and eyed him closely. Devon got the impression of … respect from it. Well, the guy had come to Devon’s aid—psychically and physically—when she’d needed help in a mega way, living up to his promise to keep her safe.
Parched, she would have chugged down the coffee if it wasn’t so hot. She settled for taking a few sips. “How long was I out?”
“Just over four and a half hours.” He slanted his head. “Do you remember what happened?”
Oh yeah, her memories were crystal clear. She nodded. “Are all the bastards dead?”
“Yes. We haven’t yet identified them, but we’ll have their names soon. Did you recognize any of them?”
“No.” Devon glanced around the room. “So … this is your apartment?”
He only nodded.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“I trust that you’re safe here.”
Well, that was nice … although being in a confined space with Tanner Cole did not feel “safe” to her on an emotional level. “I, um …” She scratched at her head and blurted out, “Thank you. For helping me.”
He inclined his head. No rubbing it in her face. No “ha, I told you that you needed my protection.” Just a quiet acceptance of her thanks. She appreciated that.
“I need to call—”
“Nobody,” he finished. “Most of the people who are worried about you are gathered in my living room. And they won’t go until they’ve spoken with you and are satisfied that you’re okay.”
If she hadn’t been so surprised by his statement, she’d have laughed at the put-out look on his face. “What people?”
“Jolene, your parents, Harper, Khloë, Raini, Ciaran—the list goes on. Are you up to seeing them?”
She frowned at her torn sweater. “If you’ll lend me a shirt.”
He crossed to the built-in wardrobe and opened one of the mirrored doors. Hangers clanged together as he pulled out a crisp white shirt. He gently lay it on the mattress, putting it within her reach. “It’ll be a bit big on you.”
Tanner watched her throat work as she swallowed her coffee, and that sent all sorts of X-rated thoughts racing through his brain. She couldn’t know it, but he’d lay in bed with her for a while, watching her sleep; wishing she’d wake, even though he’d known it was better for her to get her rest. Then people had started to arrive, and he’d had to leave her alone.
He’d checked on her several times but always found her sound asleep. It had been a relief to walk in and see her up and awake.
His hound didn’t like that she looked so fragile; knew she was far from it. The demon had begun to see just how much it had underestimated her strength in the past. Bloodthirsty, it respected the dark power she wielded; respected how hard and mercilessly she’d fought earlier.