Page 27 of Cold Moon

“Getting you ready for bed.”

“Don’t need to go to bed,” he protested, but his eyelids barely fluttered before they shut again.

“I know,” I said, carding a hand through his hair just to see how soft it was. I felt guilty for the indulgence, but he sighed happily.

“Dante, stay,” he grumbled when I pulled away.

No way I could do that—not with him half asleep, not knowing what he was saying. I’d spent my whole life watching alphas demand and press advantages, and I wanted Skye to feel safe with me. Heck, I wanted his pack to feel like he was safe with me.

“I’m not going far,” I promised. “I’ll just be in the living room if you need anything, okay? And in the morning, I’ll walk you to work.” I had to go get my stitches out anyway, before heading back to the Hills’ to see Ridge. “We can get breakfast on the way.”

Skye just made a sleepy little sound, something like a huff, and even if he was discontented, he’d soon be back asleep and plenty happy.

I found an extra blanket in the bedroom closet and went back out to the living room. The couch was a little old. I could feel the wooden frame through the cushions under me, but it wasn’t so bad. I tucked one of the throw pillows under my head, turned the television off, and fell asleep to the slow sound of Skye breathing in the next room over.

16

Skye

Waking up in a bed that smelled like Dante Reid was like a wet dream in progress. I half expected him to show up, say a couple of lines I’d heard in a porno, and... well, that was silly. It wasn’t an actual dream, it was reality.

So instead, a few minutes after I drifted to consciousness, there was a soft knock at the door. “Hey, you awake?”

Even then, with me asleep in his bed, Dante was sweet and gentle, barely knocking on the door and keeping his voice low. Gah. Could he be more perfect? He couldn’t be real. This was one of those TV shows where everything feels weird and wrong and the main character gets suspicious, only to find out that they’re actually in a coma and none of it ever happened.

Because no alpha had ever been as attentive to me as Dante Reid, much less a gorgeous, tall, kind one. Heck, maybe Dante didn’t exist at all, and he was the dream. I’d imagined up an alpha as perfect and sweet as Linden, only not twice my age.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but it’s getting on to when you’d be out for breakfast, and I don’t want to make you late to work,” Dante whispered.

Finally, I blinked my eyes open, looking up at where he lurked in the doorway, expression and body language withdrawn, like he half expected me to kick him.

No, Dante wasn’t imaginary. I mean, sure, almost everything about him was perfect, but I liked to think that even at its worst, my imagination wouldn’t invent someone who had so obviously been hurt by people. Someone who hunched in on themselves when faced with anger from strangers, as though used to that treatment.

I wasn’t that kind of caretaker, was I? Like those scary people who hurt their kids so they could be seen as heroic? Not that Dante was my kid, obviously.

Pushing myself up, I reached automatically for my nightstand. My brain pointed out that I wasn’t at home, so there was no reason for my glasses to be where I usually put them, butthere they were, right under my hand. Folded up instead of just laid out upside-down, but right where I always kept them in my own room.

“Morning,” I croaked out. “You didn’t have to give me your bed.”

He gave a little shrug. “No big deal. The couch is pretty comfy.”

I’d spent a portion of the evening sitting on that couch, and while it was nice enough, I knew darn well if I’d slept on it, I’d be in pain. “How about I buy breakfast this morning to pay you back?”

I pushed up out of bed, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. I’d have to stop into my apartment to change before heading to the clinic.

He bit his lip, watching me. “You don’t need to do that. I already owe everyone so much.”

Walking over in front of him, I took his hands in mine and smiled up into his gorgeous gold-speckled brown eyes. “You don’t owe me a single thing, Dante. We’re friends, aren’t we? There are no debts between friends.”

That probably wasn’t true. I was sure some friends borrowed money from each other, but I couldn’t imagine either Dante or I in a position to loan anyone anything. My job didn’t pay badly, but I was never going to get rich on it. And Dante was still trying to find his way after his pack had left him floundering with literally nothing. A healthy relationship between us couldn’t include debts.

A relationship.

Was that actually what Dante wanted? It was what I wanted, duh, but that didn’t mean anything.

Still, he took a deep breath and nodded. The smile he gave me was a tiny bit strained, but given what he’d been through in the last month, that was hard to hold against him.

“Let’s go eat, then. And after that, I’m supposed to have the last of my stitches taken out.”

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