at the snow- and ice-encrusted laces. When I looked up, Red’s face was carefully blank.
“Thanks.” He pulled off the boots and I saw that his socks were soaked through. A few of his toes were white, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“That looks like the beginnings of frostbite. We have to warm you up slowly.”
Red looked past me at Hunter. “Tell him to leave, first.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Hunter, leave. I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced.” Placing my hands on Red’s icy feet, I tried to think how best to warm them. “Can you feel anything?” I brought his feet under my shirt, against my bare breasts.
“Not yet.” His voice was perfectly even, as if his feet were resting on a hot water bottle instead of against my bare flesh.
“This is going to take too long. We need to get your feet immersed in some lukewarm water.” I grabbed an afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around Red’s feet.
As I ran water in the kettle, Hunter approached me, keeping a careful eye on Red. “Is it just me, or is he acting a little peculiar? I know if you put my toes where you put his toes, I’d manage to crack a smile.”
“Hunter, please get out of here.” Now that Red was warming up, he had begun to sniff the air. So far, he looked puzzled rather than angry, but I didn’t know how long that would last. Sex, like blood, leaves a strong olfactory footprint.
“I’m concerned. He’s not exactly acting like his friendly Texan self, is he?”
Red fixed Hunter with an unfriendly look. “Don’t push it tonight, Hunter.” His voice was very quiet.
“Hunter, take a look at him.” I put the kettle on the wood-burning stove. “He’s half frozen.”
Hunter jerked his thumb in Red’s direction. “Ah, yes. And is that why he’s glowering at you like that?”
I had to do a little two-step to get around Hunter, and Red gave a low growl of irritation. “No, I think your presence has more to do with that.” Kneeling back down by Red, I said, “Here, give me your feet again.” Wrapping my fingers around his chilled flesh, I realized that the bottom of his jeans were wet. “Okay. We’re going to need to get your pants off.”
Red’s eyes met mine. “If I start stripping, I might just decide to take a bite out of your ex over there.”
“Hunter,” I said, thoroughly exasperated now. “I’ve already asked you to leave.”
“I’m just worried about you,” he said, and Red gave a short, harsh laugh.
“I know what’s worrying you,” he said, beginning to stand. “You’re worried I’m going to breed her, and you’ll have missed your chance.”
I put my hands on my hips. “First of all, I’m nobody’s prize bitch, and nobody’s breeding me. Second of all, Hunter doesn’t even want kids. Third of all, Red, you shouldn’t walk on frostbitten feet.” I might as well have been a Chihuahua yapping for all the attention the men paid me.
“I don’t like your tone, old man,” said Hunter, in his most aggravatingly faux British accent.
“Let me rephrase it.” Red pulled his wool sweater over his head. “She’s in heat, and you want her. But you left over a year ago, and Abra’s mine now.”
“I rather think that depends on what the lady says.” Hunter turned to me, and I realized that for some reason, my werewolf of an almost ex was more in control than my shapeshifter lover. Something was very wrong here. The moon was supposed to be riding us, but Red was a very different sort of beast.
And something else was wrong, because for the first time since I’d met him, I felt a faint, nervous tension building inside of me. To my surprise, Red’s air of quiet menace was giving me butterflies in my stomach.
At that moment, the kettle started whistling, and I poured the boiling water into a big cast-iron pot that we sometimes used to bathe rescued animals. “How about you help me bring this over to Red, Hunter, and then leave?”
Hunter lifted the heavy pot as though it weighed nothing. “Just tell me where to put it.”
“By the fire,” I said, filling the kettle with cold water. “Thanks.”
“And now you can leave,” said Red through gritted teeth as he pulled his pants off.
“Oh, I don’t know—Abra might need more help.” Hunter came up to me and took the kettle from my hands. “Put this on the stove?”
“Thanks,” I said. “By the time he