Page 47 of Stripped

“I'm foggy and sleepy, but more sleep is the last thing I want. Maybe coffee?”

“I've got a better idea,” he said. “Follow me.”

I stood and walked over to where he stood, his gaze intent on me, likely watching me for any sign of a stumble or a sway. “I'm really much better,” I said when he reached for me. “I can walk on my own.”

“Well, I can't.” He pulled me in tight against his side. “You kind of scared the shit out of me, Abby. I wasn't sure you were going to make it.”

I snorted. “So dramatic.”

He pushed me away and turned me to face him. He held me by the shoulders in case I should tip over suddenly. “I'm not being dramatic. You couldn't stop throwing up and, when you finally stopped, you were so pale. I watched you while you slept to make sure you were still breathing, because you looked so fucking fragile. You kept wincing in your sleep like something was hurting you, and I wanted so badly to fix it.”

His obvious concern and the blatant fondness in his expression made me uncomfortable. “Why didn't you take me to the hospital if I was that sick?”

“And tell them what? You had an encounter with a vampire and puked up black goo? If you'd gotten worse, if you'd spiked a fever or started puking again, I would have taken you to the hospital. Consequences be damned.”

“What consequences?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal, but I could see the genuine concern in his eyes. “Werewolf taking a human to the hospital and accusing a vampire of hurting her kind of consequences.”

Darn. “I can see how that would be bad.”

“Yeah. Now, come on.”

He wrapped an arm around my waist and led me to the center of the house. He opened a door there that revealed steps leading down into complete darkness. I clapped. “Yay, a dark creepy basement. Now, my adventure into the supernatural will be complete.”

He flicked on a light and the steps were revealed to be covered in carpet, nothing remotely creepy about any of it. “I promise, there's nothing down there that's going to creep you out.”

“How suburban of you.”

He chuckled. “We'll have to go single-file, but I'll go in front so you'll land on me if you get dizzy or weak.”

I huffed. “I'll be fine.”

I followed him down the stairs and into a large, wide-open room with wood floors and full-length mirrors covering one wall. There were yoga mats rolled and piled in one corner and some dumbbells and exercise balls in another. There were other things, but I had no idea what they were or what they were used for, blocks and balls that had been cut in half and placed on discs. Zane grabbed a yoga mat, unrolled it and laid it flat on the floor. “Have a seat,” he said.

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes. “We can't leave the house, but I need some exercise. You can watch or you can do it with me.”

I sat and crossed my legs. I'd never been to a yoga class and I'd never had any desire to try it. I was still weak, but it was yoga, how hard could it be?

Zane flicked on some music and rolled out a second mat. “I'm just going to run upstairs and change,” he said. “You relax.”

The music was some sort of slow, mellow elevator stuff I'd usually only hear in a hipster coffee shop. It's the sort of music that was supposed to be relaxing, but for whatever reason it just made me want to punch something.

I got to my feet and went over to see that Zane's music was coming from an old-school boom box with an actual CD inside. I scanned the table for something else, but I could find nothing but easy listening crap.

“You aren't thinking about touching my music, are you?”

“No, grandpa, don't worry. I'm not sure I even know how to use one of these ancient pieces of—” I spun and forgot what the heck I was about to say, because Zane was standing before me in a pair of tight-fitting shorts and nothing else. I had been naked with the man, but my back had been to him and I'd been half asleep. Nothing had prepared me for the perfection that was Zane, standing before me. Seeing him sleeping half-naked hadn't prepared me, he just looked so…

“Get on your mat and we'll get started,” he said.

I snapped back to the real world where Zane was the reason I was about to do yoga. “Seriously, can we do something about the music? It makes me want to kick things.”

“Just give it a chance,” he said. “If you still hate it after twenty minutes, we can work in silence.”

“Silence? How about something upbeat or—”

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