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“I hate waiting,” hemuttered.
Delilah’s chuckle wasgenuinely amused. How could she be laughing right now? But when shespoke, she wasn’t laughing. “When she gets home, she’ll need twothings, and two things only.”
“Which are?”
“A shower and help gettingto sleep. Sirens like Elodie—the rare few who feel guilt—don’tsleep well after kills, even though the act drains themphysically.” Delilah paused. “Good luck,” she said before hangingup.
After a beat, Chanceslipped his phone into his pocket, turned off the water, then stoodthere, debating his next move. Listen to Delilah and wait, or tryto find his siren somewhere in Manhattan?
Not exactly a choice.
* * *
Elodie didn’t know what sheexpected when she returned home. The cynical part of hersemi-expected Chance to be in the living room nursing a beer,oblivious to her disappearance. She’d managed to hunt and feed inunder an hour after all. But she knew that wasn’t the case when shefound the shower turned off and the bathroom door busted open. He’dbroken it off its hinges.
Not a good sign.
Taking a deep breath, shetried to will herself to meet the confrontation she knew wascoming. A kill always left her strangely depleted, exhausted, andat the same time so wired she never could settle. But she owedChance an apology.
She leaned around the door to peek into herroom. “Chance?”
Her bedside light flickedon and Chance rose from where he’d been sitting on the edge of thebed. He stared at her unblinking for a long moment, and she foundherself wishing that she could see his damn aura. Was he angry?Disappointed? Disgusted?
“That didn’t take long,” hefinally said.
She hesitated.
“Delilah told me where youwent. I called her.”
Elodie winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t thinkyou’d let me go alone otherwise.”
“You’re right.” The growlin his voice and the way his hands were clenched at his sides…hewas definitely angry. “I would have insisted on going withyou.”
Exactly what she’d beenafraid of. She never wanted him to see her like that. Not ever. Itwould change the way he looked at her from then on.
Chance ran a hand throughhis hair, standing it up on end. “We’ll talk about trusting me moretomorrow.”
Elodie frowned. Was herexhausted mind hearing wrong? “And tonight?”
He searched her gaze. “Delilah said you’dwant a shower and maybe some help getting to sleep. I can help withthat much, at least.”
Unexpected tears burned atthe back of Elodie’s eyes. “You want to help me sleep after I justkilled a man?”
“Did he deserveit?”
An older man who apparentlyhad a thing for teenaged girls. The younger the better. He’d seducethem, then discard them when he’d had his fill, often leaving thempregnant or their confidence so in tatters their relationshipswould never be whole after that. How many lives had he ruinedbefore she stopped him? She didn’t want to think about it. Theimportant part was he was stopped.
“Yes.”
“That’s what I thought.”Chance crossed the room and stepped over the door to crowd rightinto her space, taking her face in his hands. “The shower is toclean off his scent?”
Chance Eroson might just beher undoing. How could he have guessed that? “Hiseverything.”
He nodded. “How about wereplace it with something better?”
Him. He didn’t need to sayit. She heard it just fine in his voice.
“I was thinking we mightshower together.” He grinned suddenly, every inch the irresistiblecharmer she’d first met. “I hear an orgasm is great to help a bodyunwind and find sleep. But only if it will help.”
