Hot Blooded

into your wolf
to taste what you'd done."
    "Well, that shouldn't cause any comment!" She laughed but not happily. "
'Could you turn your back for a moment, Heather? My wolf has to see if this
batter needs more salt.' "
    "I didn't say it was a perfect solution—"
    She stopped him by touching his arm. "No," she said softly. "It's a great
deal more than I had when I was vomiting ice cream into that sink. Thank you for
letting me know."
    Her sincerity embarrassed him. His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "We'll
probably have to go to Canada to find your familiar. There isn't much open wolf
territory in the States."
    "That's all right." She ventured an awkward smile. "I hear Canada is nice.
And, hey, you already speak French."
    "Mariann." He wasn't sure what he meant to say, but found he couldn't go
beyond her name. This stilted conversation, while nowhere near as bad as it
might have been, was hardly what he'd had in mind.
    She must have sensed his frustration. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean
to sound flip. You saved my life. I should be grateful."
    "No." He dropped from his crouch onto his knees, wanting with all his heart
to touch her again. "I'm the one who's sorry. Not that I saved you, but that I
can't give you back what you lost."
    "I'm stuck," she said with the sheepish air of someone making a confession.
    "Stuck?"
    "In the past." She spread her hands to indicate her surroundings, from the
dated cabinets to the noisy old Frigidaire. "This is my safety blanket, this
house and the bakery. All I ever wanted was to be like my Gramps. Daniel
O'Faolain was a great guy, Bastien. The greatest. Give you the shirt off his
back and the last brownie on the plate. Listen to you talk till his ears fell
off. My parents were good people, but from the time that I could toddle, Gramps
was my best friend. Grams used to say we must have been siblings in another
life. Every year, I'd cross off the days until I'd come back here. If I lost the
bakery…"
    Fighting tears, she pressed her fist to her teeth. "If I lost the bakery,
it'd be like losing him again. Everything I do, he's with me. Everything I know,
he taught."
    In spite of her best efforts, her tears spilled over and her voice wobbled.
Without an instant's hesitation, Bastien pulled her against his chest.
    "Crap," she said, "I'm sorry for being so weepy."
    "Don't worry about that.
Upyr
shoulders dry very fast."
    "So I noticed." Her laugh was muffled in his shirt. "Kind of handy."
    He felt such complete devotion as he kissed her hair, he could have wept
himself. "You'll find new things to love. I know it doesn't seem that way right
now, but you will. And in the meantime, I'll do everything in my power to make
sure you keep as much of your old life as you can."
    She pushed gently back from him, her eyes glistening like rain-kissed
aquamarines. "You're being really good to me," she said as if afraid of making
it a question.
    "It isn't hard," he assured her, coaxing her back.
    He was, after all, only following his heart.

----
Chapter 6
    Â« ^ »
    MARIANN let herself rest against him, not crying anymore, but enjoying the
way his shoulder seemed specifically formed to cradle her cheek.
    Though her nose was sharper than before, he smelled better: not just like a
forest, but like a man—a slightly salty, slightly musky scent. Just as nice was
the strong but easy circle of his arms. With a soft, satisfied sigh, he tilted
his head against her hair. If she'd ever felt this comforted by her ex, she
couldn't recall it now.
    Though the contentment she felt might be an illusion, she was reluctant to
let him go.
    "This place is a mess," she said with no particular compunction to clean it
up. "If someone came in now, they'd think I'd been attacked by hungry thieves."
    "I'll help you straighten it," he said.
    She smiled to herself when he didn't move either. Then her gaze fell on the
oven clock.
    "Shoot," she said, sitting back. "It's four a.m. I should be at the bakery.
Heather will think I slipped a gear."
    "I can call her like I did last night. Tell her you haven't fully recovered
from your accident."
    "I can't do that. Heather's never done all the baking by—Oh, no." She hit the
center of her forehead. "Last night. I slept through my shift."
    "I'm sure she managed," Bastien said, but she was already stuffing trash into
a Hefty bag. "At least let me go with you. You'll need my help to look human."
    "Damn it," she said,