“Unless you’re just itching to take Curran on,” he said. “I suppose we could fight him. We’d lose, but it would be fun while it lasted.”

Silly bouda. I hugged him, sliding under him, the weight of his muscular body a reassuring pressure on me. His eyes were so blue. I kissed him, letting his taste wash over my tongue. Every muscle in me shivered in anticipation. “A smelly, stupid bouda once told me that if you make your mate choose between you and his family, you’re not worthy of his loyalty. I wouldn’t do it to you, Raphael. I love you.”

He licked me, nipping on my lower lip. He caressed me. His hand slipped down, stroking, pushing my thighs open. His scent washed over me, and for once, instead of making me hurt in regret, it sang through me. “Mate…”

I wrapped my legs around him and whispered, “Make love to me.”

When I awoke, three hours later, Raphael was gone. The mud from my ankles proved remarkably difficult to remove. It took multiple soapings and scrubbings with a washcloth and even a pumice stone, until finally it was all gone and the skin on my legs was bright red. The Lyc-V would fix it in no time at all, but it aggravated me to no end.

I stalked out into the hallway and smelled English muffins. Crisp, just-out-of-the-toaster, generously buttered English muffins. The aroma grabbed my nose and dragged me down the hall, to a side room, where Kate sat at a long table, drinking coffee. Plates covered the table: heaps of scrambled eggs; hot, crispy hash browns; soft crepes, folded into quarters and drenched with melted butter; bacon, sausage, ham, English muffins.

“Food!”

“Yes!” Kate thrust a plate in my direction.

I loaded my plate, and bit into the ham. Yum, yum, yum. Meat. Meat good. Andrea hungry. Andrea had spent too many calories in the past forty-eight hours. I could do without sleep or food, but not both.

“Have you seen my mate?” I asked.

“He’s with his mother.”

I rolled my eyes.

“He was in here about half an hour ago, eating up a storm. Aunt B has graced us with her presence and she wanted him to explain things to her.”

I ate the English muffin and got another. I could almost feel the energy flooding my body. As a shapeshifter, I could technically go without sleep completely, if I had to, but food was a requirement. I was going to stuff myself until I resembled one of those pigs they served at banquets in old movies.

“Your favorite volhv showed up half an hour ago, complaining about his lack of sleep and stupid gods. He says he brought his Batman belt.”

I stopped chewing for a second and caught my reflection in the shiny kettle. I looked like a chipmunk with my cheeks full of food. “So can he bind this draugr?”

“He says so.”