Spirit Bound - Christine Feehan [151]
He wasn’t satisfied until all of them nodded in agreement—even Blythe.
18
“YOU drugged me, you cretin,” Judith accused the moment they were inside her house, whirling around to glare at Stefan, hands on hips. “In the chocolate—your old Russian recipe. You drugged me. And don’t you dare tell me you didn’t.”
Stefan nodded his head. “I can see that was probably a mistake.”
“Probably? It was probably a mistake?”
Judith looked around for something to throw at his head. All that she could find was a kaleidoscope sitting on the end table. She launched it at him, instantly regretting it, not because it might dent his thick skull but because she loved that kaleidoscope. It was one she’d created for all of her sisters, a mandala for each of them, and one for herself. Each of them had one in their homes.
The ornate cylinder stopped in midair, inches from him. Stefan reached out and carefully wrapped his fingers around the kaleidoscope and set it gently back on the end table, wincing a little as his bloodied arm protested.
“Definitely a mistake. I clearly should have said definitely,” he stated. “Do you have a first-aid kit? I think I need a couple of stitches.” As a bid for sympathy, he thought a little reminder that he was wounded might be just the right touch.
Judith’s scowl deepened. “Do you have to play hero all the time? You made me crazy with the way you were just inviting him to shoot you. You have a gun. Lots of guns. I didn’t see you shooting back at him.”
“I shot him,” he defended, allowing his gaze to drift over her body.
Judith was drenched. Completely, utterly drenched and dripping water on the carpet. Her long hair hung in thick black tails and droplets of water beaded on her skin reminding him of dew on rose petals. Her clothes were nearly transparent and she was shivering continually, her teeth actually chattering, although she was so upset she didn’t appear to notice. She was shivering and it wasn’t all due to the cold. She believed herself responsible for a man’s death and that sort of thing could take its toll on a civilian. She was bordering on shock.
Stefan frowned and took a step toward her. She stepped back and swift impatience crossed his hard features.
“Judith, you’re soaked. We can do this after you’ve gotten in a warm bath.”
When he saw her head shake, he turned his back on her and walked down the hall to her bedroom, stripping as he went. He wasn’t about to argue with her. If she didn’t follow him, he was going to do more than act a cretin, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and dump her shivering little ass in the bath.
His shoulder stung like hell and he had to limp with the heel of his boot missing. God, he was tired and worried about his brother. The last he’d seen of Levi, he’d been taken away in an ambulance. Stefan would never believe Ivanov was dead, not until he saw the body.
He piled his wet clothes in the sink, started Judith a bath and wrapped a towel around himself, more for warmth than modesty. He was every bit as soaked as she was. He waited there in the bathroom, studying his arm. It was the second time he’d gotten nailed and he had a fresh chunk of muscle missing. His shoulders were just too broad for cat-and-mouse games with killers.
He heard her padding down the hall on her bare feet. The moment she stepped through the door he reached for the buttons on her jeans, yanking the waistband open and jerking the denim down to her thighs. “Off,” he commanded. “Just take the damn things off and get in the bath.” Even as he let go of her jeans, he caught her tank top and dragged the soaked material over her head, tossing it on top of his wet clothes before she could protest.
Judith steadied herself by placing a hand on his chest as she kicked off the wet jeans. “I’ll look at your shoulder first.”
“You’ll get into the bath. You’re shaking like a leaf. This is nothing I haven’t had happen before. Hurts like hell, but won’t kill