“But not were,” Miguel said.
I shook my head. “No. Definitely not were.”
“Then what?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Miguel.” Hell, we’d managed to bond, but we weren’t exactly buds.
Miguel motioned at me with his chin. “What about your other aroma?”
“My boyfriend is a werewolf. We live together.” My admission made me blush. While Aric and I hadn’t officially discussed it, or announced it, we did live together. Hunting evil expeditions aside, Aric and I were always together and hadn’t slept apart since the first night we made love.
Miguel frowned. “Is he a lone wolf?”
“No.”
“Are you mates?”
His question upset me, mostly because I wanted it to be true. “No. We’re not mates.”
Miguel and Sandra exchanged confused glances. Miguel leaned my way. “Then why do his Elders allow him with you?”
Allow? It was a strong word, and not one I completely comprehended. I answered as best I could. “I think Aric’s Leader status allows him more freedom.”
Sandra, who had saturated her gown with sweat, gawked at me like I’d asked for dibs on the placenta. “A Leader? The male who shares your bed is of pure blood?”
Many females believed the pains of childbirth granted the laboring woman the freedom to say whatever she wanted. Sandra, it appeared, was one of these gals.
Miguel’s suspicious frown returned. “Aric? You’re romantically involved with Aric Connor?”
Sandra was one centimeter shy of spitting out a human being. Yet I was the one growing increasingly uncomfortable. “Ah. Yes.”
Miguel took a deep breath, trying to sniff out what he pretty much perceived as a blatant lie. His aggressive demeanor turned to shock the moment my scent reached his nose. “You speak the truth.”
Sandra reached for Miguel’s hand, tears streaking her cheeks in tiny zigzags. “Miguel, the love of Aric Connor will deliver our baby.”
My voice cracked. “Um. I don’t think Aric would necessarily refer to me as his ‘love.’”
My statement had little effect on dissolving their obvious idolization of Aric. For the first time since we met, Miguel smiled.
Sandra, thank the Lord, started to grunt. “I think I have to push.”
I paged the doctor to the room. Twenty minutes later Sandra gave birth to her and Miguel’s first daughter.
I said a quick good-bye following the recovery and headed for the locker room. Sandra’s delivery had been the messiest of my career. So much pea-soup-colored amniotic fluid had spewed, I half expected Linda Blair to come crawling out of Sandra’s vagina. Our third-year resident physician had gagged, but at least when the baby came out, and Sandra hemorrhaged, he managed to keep it together. It didn’t matter that he threw up in the hall afterward; the important thing was mommy and baby were now fine.
Good grief. I examined my overly soiled scrubs. Sandra’s body fluids had seeped through the fabric. Rather than attempting to pull the top over my head, I tore them off and called it a day.
I grabbed the emergency shampoo and body wash Shayna and I kept in our locker and headed for the shower. As I scrubbed Sandra’s DNA off my body, my mind wandered back to Miguel’s comment. He had asked how Aric was “allowed” to live with me. Although I had said Aric could do whatever he wanted, I couldn’t be positive that was completely true.
When I finished washing, I reached for my towel to dry my face. But it was gone.
“You don’t call on me anymore, kitten.”
I slammed backward against the tiled wall. “Misha! What the hell are you doing here?”
He tilted his head; an amused smile lifted the edges of his mouth. I ripped the towel from his hand and wrapped it around me before he could answer.
Misha’s smile turned from amused to downright wicked. “I came to see you. Is this any way to greet an old friend?”
“Are you out of your blood-sucking mind?” I stumbled out and scanned the locker room. “Anyone could walk in here!”
“Do not fear, my love. Edith Anne and Agnes Concepción are guarding both entrances.”
The Catholic schoolgirls were here, too. Awesome. “Oh. Okay, Misha. Now I feel better.” I stomped behind the row of gray lockers and slammed my door open. My hands yanked on my clothes as if Mother Teresa’s soul depended on it. The moment all the important girl parts were covered, I stormed around to the other side and jabbed my finger into his chest. “Do not let those two munch on my coworkers. And I’m not your love!”
“No, not currently.” Much to my annoyance, he continued to smile and took a seat on the wooden bench. His long legs bent at an angle as he leaned forward to rest his forearms against his knees. Misha’s light blue silk shirt gave his gray eyes an added glint, or maybe his amusement. Whatever it was, it bugged the hell out of me. “I see by those marks between your breasts the mutt continues to show you affection. Now, had you been in my company, the only evidence of our time together would be a smile that would never fade from your face.”