Teddy stared right at me. "I know how to follow orders."
"Great, shall we find some place private, Detective Padgett?"
His breath was coming fast, almost a pant. He was feeling the rising energy, too. "We can talk right here. I'm not leaving one of my men alone with these things."
"I'm okay, boss," the young cop said.
"You're not afraid?" Padgett asked. It was a question that cops seldom ask each other. They ask, are you all right. They admit to being nervous. Never scared.
Officer Smith's eyes widened a little, but he shook his head. "I know Crossman. He's a good guy. She saved his life." Smith sat up a little straighter in his chair, said softly, "These aren't the bad guys."
A tic started in Padgett's cheek. He opened his mouth, closed it, then turned abruptly on his heel and left. The door slid shut behind him. We all stood in the suddenly thick silence.
Stephen said, "Anita." He held his hand out to me. His face was flawless, no scars, no marks of any kind. I took his hand and smiled.
"I know you guys heal fast, but it's still impressive. You looked pretty bad last time I saw you."
"I looked worse," a soft male voice said. Nathaniel was awake in the other bed. His long auburn hair hung like a shining curtain around his face, maybe longer than waist-length. I'd never seen a man with hair that long. I couldn't see his face because I was too busy staring at his eyes. They were the color of lilacs, a wonderful pale lavender that was a genuine show-stopper. It took me a few seconds of staring to be able to see the rest of his face. He looked a few years older awake than he had unconscious--nineteen instead of sixteen, maybe. He still looked drawn and tired, ill, but there was a vast improvement.
"Yeah, you looked worse," I said.
Stephen turned to Officer Smith like they were old friends.
"Can we have a few minutes alone?"
Smith looked at me. "Okay with you?"
I nodded.
He stood. "I don't know how Padgett's going to like it, so if you want to exchange secret codes or anything, make it fast."
"Thanks," I said.
"Don't mention it." He stopped in front of Lorraine before he left. "Thank you. Crossman has a wife and two daughters. I know they'd thank you if they could."
Lorraine blushed and nodded, mumbling, "You're welcome."
Smith left, and I walked over to Nathaniel's bed. "Nice to meet you while you're conscious."
He tried to smile, but the effort showed. He held out his left hand to me, the right hand was still hooked up to an IV drip.
I took his hand. His grip was tremblingly weak. He drew my hand towards his mouth as if to kiss it. I let him do it. The effort made his hand shake.
He pressed his lips to my hand, eyes closed, almost as if he were resting. For a second I thought he'd passed out, but his tongue flicked out, a quick wetness.
I jerked back, fighting the urge to wipe my hand on my jeans. "Thanks, a handshake would have been fine."
He frowned up at me. "But you're our leoparde lionne," he said.
"So people keep telling me," I said.
He turned his head so he could see Stephen. "You lied to me." Tears trembled in his pale, pale eyes. "She won't feed us."
I looked at Stephen. "I have missed part of this conversation, haven't I?"
"Have you seen Richard share blood with the pack?"
I started to say no, then, "I saw him let Jason feed off of a knife wound once. Jason seemed almost drugged from it."