The room cleared out quickly, leaving just Rachel, Beth, and Scotty. Rachel immediately retrieved five bags of blood from the refrigerator they’d moved into the room. She offered one to Beth with a small smile. “There’s nothing I need do for you. More blood and some rest and you’ll be good to go.”

“Thank you,” Beth murmured, accepting the blood.

Rachel nodded, then turned to set three of the remaining bags on the bed next to Scotty and handed him the fourth as she said, “Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do for you except offer you blood. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to work through the pain of healing somehow.”

Scotty grunted as he accepted the offered bag and then muttered, “It will no’ be the first time,” before slapping it to his fangs.

Rachel glanced back to Beth and said, “I’ll check on you later. Rest now.”

Nodding, she slapped her own bag of blood to her fangs as she watched the woman leave, pulling the door closed behind her.

Beth remained sitting upright until the bag was empty, and then ripped it away and took Scotty’s as he removed his own. She tossed them both into the small garbage bin next to the bedside table, and then scooted forward in the bed so that she could lie down. When she did, Beth automatically turned on her side toward Scotty. It was the side she always slept on and she did it without thinking, but then paused and stared at him.

Beth almost turned the other way rather than lie facing him, but decided it might seem rude for her to turn her back to him, so she remained where she was and watched silently as he popped another bag of blood to his fangs. She examined his face as he fed. Scotty had his eyes closed, but she noticed lines were beginning to form around them, and his jaw was tightening with each passing moment. The blood he was taking in was speeding up the healing, rushing it along and increasing his pain, she realized, and frowned.

By the time Scotty switched the second empty bag for the third bag of blood, his hand was shaking, and Beth couldn’t take it anymore. She hated knowing he was in such agony and there was nothing she could do about it. She was actually relieved when he tugged the third bag from his fangs and turned to peer at her rather than slap the last one on.

After a hesitation, Beth murmured, “Thank you for trying to save me.”

Scowling, he muttered, “It was stupid. I’d have done ye more good had I grabbed up the fire extinguisher and sprayed ye like Magnus did afterward to both of us.”

Beth grinned. “Are you suggesting you made a mistake and aren’t perfect?” she asked with mock disbelief, and then gasped, “No! Say it ain’t so!”

Scotty’s mouth twitched, fighting to smile, or maybe fighting not to, and he turned his head on the pillow to stare at the ceiling, muttering, “Only you would dare taunt me.”

Beth just watched him for a minute and then asked solemnly, “Is it very bad?”

“What?” he asked, glancing at her with confusion.

“The pain,” she said dryly. “What else would I be talking about?”

“Oh.” Scotty scowled at her. “Well, it is now that ye’ve got me thinkin’ o’ it.”

“Hmm.” Beth picked up the last bag of blood and offered it to him.

His mouth tightened, but Scotty took the bag and popped it to his fangs. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, however, when she immediately smiled.

“The tranquilizers don’t work on you,” she pointed out.

He grunted around the bag in his mouth.

“But I have an idea how to knock you out so you sleep through the healing.”

Rather than look interested in this idea, Scotty’s eyes narrowed even further.

That was gratitude for you. It was like he didn’t trust her or something, Beth thought with amusement, but merely asked, “What is the extent of your burns?”

That question had him blinking above the nearly full bag at his mouth.

“Is your chest burned?” she asked, and then simply tugged the blanket down to see. Problem was, she’d tucked him into bed fully clothed. Frowning now, she commented, “That can’t be very comfortable for sleeping. You’ll not relax that way. Sit up.”

Scotty shook his head at once, the blood in the bag sloshing one way, then the other as he did.

“Careful,” Beth cautioned. “You’ll tear the bag and get blood everywhere.”

Scotty just narrowed his eyes again. The closest thing to a scowl he could manage at the moment, she supposed.

“Here, I’ll make you more comfortable,” Beth said and shifted to her knees next to him so she could set to work quickly unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it from his pants. Scotty tried to stop her, grabbing at her wrists, and she knew for certain that he was in a bad way when she proved faster than him.

“I know you like to be in control, Scotty,” she said soothingly as she worked. “But this is for your own good. Think of me like a nurse. I’m just making you more comfortable.”

Beth finished undoing and opening his linen shirt, and let out a breath of relief when she saw that his chest seemed undamaged. That was something, anyway. She didn’t know if it was because when he’d leapt on her, his chest against hers, it had staunched those flames and he hadn’t been burned there, or if it had been only mildly burned and so had already healed, but she was grateful for small mercies as she turned her attention to the button and zipper of his jeans.

“You just relax, and let nurse Beth take care of everything,” she instructed him lightly as she snapped the button open, slid down the zipper and then began to work his jeans down over his hips. “I’ll have you sleeping in no time. It’s the least I can do when you got this way trying to save me.”

“Stop,” Scotty said sharply, and she glanced around to see that the final bag was empty and he had ripped it from his mouth. “Nay. I do no’ want ye to do that.”

Beth sat back on her heels and peered at him with frustration. She could make him pass out and sleep through the worst of the pain with a little life mate sex. At least for a while, and she wanted to do it. She didn’t like to know he was in such pain, and . . . well . . . actually, though Beth was loath to admit it, she wanted to do it for herself too. Her body was tingling at the very thought of enjoying the shared pleasure with him again. It was like a drug, and she a drug addict who’d been without a fix for two whole very long weeks.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Beth suddenly relaxed and smiled. He’d said no, so she couldn’t continue to touch him. That would feel too much like rape. However, there was more than one way to skin a cat . . . if it worked, she thought with sudden concern.

“What are ye thinking?” Scotty asked suspiciously. “Ye have a scheming look to ye at the moment.”

Beth blinked her thoughts away and peered at him innocently. “I don’t know what you’re on about, Scotty. I was just thinking that if you don’t want to be comfortable, that’s fine. But I do.”

“What does that mean?” he asked warily.

Beth shrugged and straightened on her knees next to him as she said, “I usually sleep in the nude.”

Scotty’s eyes widened, but he made no protest when she reached back to undo the ties of the hospital gown. He also remained silent when she next settled to sit on her haunches and let the gown shimmy down her arms to pool in her lap, leaving her breasts bare.

“I was badly burned everywhere,” Beth told him quietly, peering down at her own chest rather than meet his gaze. She had been naked in front of a lot of men, but for some reason having him look at her in that moment made her shy. Clearing her throat, she continued, “But I healed nicely.”

Beth followed the words up by slowly sliding her hands up to cup her own breasts as if to display them.

“Don’t you think?” she asked, not surprised to hear her accent thickening. It always did when she was excited or angry or anxious.

“Aye.” It was a husky growl.

Beth bit her lip, struggling with her unusual shyness, but then closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Trying to pretend it was him touching her, she began to squeeze and knead her own breasts and then tweaked the tightening nipples. Much to her relief, Beth heard Scotty’s breathing grow heavier and more labored, and thought it might be working.

Clearing her throat, she whispered, “I remember in the garage, waking up that first time to find you leaning over me. You were suckling my breast and your hand was . . .” She broke off and moved one hand down beneath the hospital gown to touch herself, sliding her fingers gently across the moist folds.

Beth opened her eyes just enough to peek out from under her eyelids and saw Scotty lick his lips as he stared at where her hand had disappeared. She continued to touch herself for a moment, and then shifted her wrist slightly, sending the soft material of the hospital gown down her legs to lie on the bed, letting him see what she was doing.

“Do you remember?” she asked, her own voice gone husky.

“Aye,” he breathed, not taking his eyes away from her hand. “Spread yer legs more.”

Beth smiled with relief at the demand. She had him. At least, she thought she did. She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t feeling any of the shared excitement she’d experienced when they’d made love, just her own milder excitement at having him watch her pleasure herself.

“Spread yer legs more,” Scotty repeated.

Beth smiled and obeyed, easing her knees open so he could better see what she was doing. The action brought her left knee into contact with his hip just above the jeans she’d tugged down, and Beth was suddenly assaulted by a confusing wave of sensation. Excitement and pain roared into her brain as one, but the pain was the overriding, overwhelming sensation and she sucked in a draft of air as it punched her in the head.

Scotty closed his eyes as Beth’s knee brushed his skin and a shaft of pleasure slipped through his body, battling with the pain for attention. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes again that he noticed that Beth had stiffened and stilled, her face twisting with pain.

“Beth?” he said with concern.

She breathed out slowly through her nose, and then opened her eyes, her gaze landing on his lap. When her eyes widened slightly, Scotty glanced down himself to see that the pleasure that had briefly shot through him had managed to make him semi-erect. Just enough for his penis to push its way out of the top of his open jeans.

He really should have put on boxers or something, Scotty thought, and then sucked in a startled breath when Beth leaned forward and exhaled, her breath brushing lightly over the sensitive tip. His cock didn’t suddenly stand up and do the samba, but it did grow a little firmer as another shaft of pleasure slithered through the pain that had been embracing him. It was like a sliver of light in the darkness, and rather than protest this time, Scotty stilled and closed his eyes, focusing all his attention on that one beam of light.

“May I?” Beth asked, and Scotty’s eyes popped open at the question to see that her hand was hovering over him, ready to touch him, and despite his earlier protest, he was actually disappointed she’d asked. Because now he had to say aye or nay, and the truth was he wanted her to touch him. He hadn’t just been fighting her. He was fighting himself. He wanted her to do it. Not that he’d started out in any kind of mood for sex, and truthfully, he wasn’t even quite there yet, though he was certainly interested, but the idea of escaping the pain he was in through the blessed sleep that followed life mate sex was a very attractive one.

However, Scotty could hear Magnus’s voice in his head telling him to leave her alone if he couldn’t claim her. Otherwise he would be using her . . . like all the other men in her life.

Scotty battled with his conscience briefly, but with every moment the pain those brief shots of pleasure had displaced returned, and he growled, “Aye.”

Beth eased his jeans further open, and then took him in hand. Scotty leaned his head back with a sigh of relief as his body responded, the pleasure once again slipping through and chasing away the pain somewhat.

She gave him only two gentle strokes before he heard her moan. The sound made him open his eyes to look down at her. Beth’s body was as rigid as stone, her face twisted in agony as she worked.

For a moment, Scotty was confused, and then it occurred to him that during life mate sex, the mates shared their pleasure. It was what made it so overwhelming. He now suspected whatever channel it was that opened up between the couple to allow that must also allow other sensations they were experiencing to be shared. Pain, for instance. Beth was feeling his pain, and while the pleasure she was giving him was helping to mitigate his pain, it was still pretty strong, and she was being hit with it.

Scotty half rose up then, reaching for her, determined to make her stop. But she caught his hands gently with her own, and determinedly closed her mouth over his semi-erect member. The action made him freeze, his head going back as a much stronger, sharper shaft of pleasure raced through him, replacing a good portion of his pain. It was as if his brain couldn’t handle the conflicting messages being sent to it, and was choosing the pleasure.

Thank God, Scotty thought as her mouth continued to slide firmly up and down, driving away the pain that had been attacking him. When the last of it had gone and he was experiencing only pleasure, Scotty opened his eyes and watched her work. She no longer seemed to be experiencing pain either, he noted, and was touched that she would have borne it for him. Most women would have moved as far away from him as they could to avoid that kind of agony, he was sure. Instead, she’d taken it to ease his burden.

Scotty slid the mangled fingers of one hand across the short hairs of her scalp, surprised to find them as soft as a puppy’s fur. And then he reached for her breast with his other hand and began to fondle her as she worked, gratified to find the pleasure between them increase. But finally, he closed his eyes and just enjoyed what she was doing as they both climbed toward that darkness that would take him away from the pain without stopping his healing.

“You cannot go,” Magnus said firmly. “You are to stay here until we sort out who is trying to kill you.”

“But I need clothes,” Beth protested, glancing between Magnus and Mortimer determinedly.

“There are clothes here in the stockroom,” Mortimer pointed out. “We keep them here for just such an occasion.”

“I want my clothes,” she argued. “And my toothbrush, and my—”

“You cannot always get what you want,” Magnus said unsympathetically.

“Rolling Stones fan, huh?” Beth asked dryly, and realized he hadn’t been purposely misquoting the song only when he peered at her blankly. Sighing, she said, “Never mind. Look, I’m going a little stir-crazy here, guys. I need to get out of the house. But I also really do want to wear my own clothes. I’m not comfortable taking from the stockroom here. Not when I have my own clothes just a short drive away.” Beth hesitated briefly, but then added, “And I wouldn’t mind some takeout either. No offense to Sam, but I’m a meat eater. I’m not keen on kale salad and vegetable soup.”

“I hear you on that one,” Mortimer said dryly.

Sam was on a health food kick at the moment, and forcing the rest of them along with her on the journey.

“I swear I’m going to ban magazines from the house if she keeps trying every new trend that comes out,” he added grimly, then glanced to Magnus and said, “Take her to her apartment and let her get some clothes, and then pick up some takeout on the way back . . . for all of us,” he said heavily and then added, “Well, all of us meat eaters.”

“Do I need a jacket?” Beth asked Mortimer.

“Not today. It’s nice out,” he answered.

Nodding, Beth turned to lead the way out of the office.

“Scotty is not going to like this,” Magnus said in warning as he followed.

“Scotty won’t know. He is sleeping,” Beth assured him. “The first pain-free sleep he’s had in days now that the worst of the healing is done.”

Beth had “put Scotty to sleep” several times since the day they’d woken up after the fire. And while at first the start of each time had been terribly painful, she’d kept at it because it had worked, and had ended with the sought-for results . . . the unconsciousness that followed release. Well, not that she hadn’t felt the pleasure too and passed out. Beth might not have enjoyed the start of the first few sessions, but she had the end . . . too much. The last two days had been spent completely in bed with him. Scotty had slept for hours after that first time she’d tried to ease his pain and lull him into the unconsciousness that followed life mate sex. He’d done the same after the second, and had healed a good deal during those first two rests. By her third effort, she had noticed that his pain wasn’t nearly as bad, and the whole exercise was much more pleasurable for both from the beginning.

By the fourth time, his face had cleared up enough that he could kiss her, and Scotty had been the one to initiate the life mate sex. He’d also initiated the fifth and sixth time, stirring her awake with passionate kisses and caressing hands. Beth had woken first the seventh time, though, and noting that his expression in sleep was relaxed and pain-free, but that he was terribly pale, she’d realized they’d been neglecting food and blood. Scotty needed both to finish healing, so she’d snuck below and fetched cheese and crackers—the only things non-vegetable in the house.

Beth had taken her booty back to the room to wake Scotty with an offering of that and the blood she fetched from the refrigerator in their room. They’d spent the day eating, chatting, laughing, and making love.

Beth had woken up first again this last time, and she’d rolled over and just stared at Scotty for the longest time . . . until she’d realized she had a goofy smile on her face and was thinking a bunch of ridiculous things about what they should do today, tomorrow, next week. She was falling for the bastard, Beth had realized with alarm. She was falling for him and planning a future with the man when she didn’t even know if there was a future for her with him. Certainly he hadn’t said anything to suggest there was.

Stunned at how stupid she was turning out to be in the romance department, Beth had slid from bed. After quickly throwing on the clothes Sam had left on the chair for her, she’d come below to find Magnus and Mortimer in the office and demanded she be allowed to leave the house for a bit. And—thank God—they were going to allow it. Or, Mortimer was going to allow it and Magnus was reluctantly going along with it, Beth thought as she followed him out the back door.

They walked to the garage in silence, and then Beth led the way in when Magnus opened the door for her. She nearly crashed into Odilia and Rickart.

“Sorry,” she said, jerking back to avoid the collision, and stomped on Magnus’s foot and bumped into his chest instead.

There was a moment when they all laughed, and then Rickart said, “It is good to see you up, Beth. How is Scotty doing?”

“Much better. He’ll probably be up and about in another hour or so himself,” she assured him, and then turned to offer a tentative smile to Odilia and said, “Thank you for the flowers. That was very kind of you.”

Looking embarrassed, Odilia shrugged. “I thought it might brighten up the room a bit and give you something to look at other than four walls.”

Beth smiled. “Well, thank you. They are beautiful.”

“So?” Rickart glanced from her to Magnus. “What are you two doing?”

“Beth wants clothes from her apartment and takeout,” Magnus said dryly. “So I am driving her.”

“Is that—I mean, should she—Would it not be better—”

“Mortimer okayed it,” Magnus said, ending Rickart’s struggle. “In fact, he suggested I bring some takeout for everyone. Any requests?”

“Not for me,” Odilia said at once, slipping past them. “I am just off shift and ready for a nice soak and some sleep. But thank you,” she added, stepping outside and heading for the cars parked in front of the garage.

“Rickart?” Magnus asked.

Beth glanced to the other Enforcer with surprise. She’d thought him older, like Magnus and Scotty, but if he ate, he couldn’t be, she thought as he hesitated.

“I will accompany you and think on the way,” he said finally. “In fact, we can take my car.”

“Good man,” Magnus murmured and followed him outside, ushering Beth with a hand at her back.

“Nice car. Not sure about the color, but I like the shape,” Beth said as he led them to a mustard-yellow Mustang.

“I was going to rent one in lightning blue, but didn’t want Odilia to think I was copying her,” Rickart said, speaking with exaggerated volume. Presumably so Odilia could hear.

“Ha ha! Just get it over with and admit you are color-blind,” Odilia taunted him through the open window of the next car over.

Beth smiled as she looked over the metallic-blue Mercedes sedan the woman was starting, and said, “I think I like hers better.”

“Oh, Dear God, you are breaking my heart,” Rickart exclaimed, opening the front passenger door for her. “This is a Mustang. There is no better car than this.”

“If you say so,” she said, settling into the passenger seat. Rickart closed the door for her, and Beth waved out the window when Odilia honked and pulled away. But they were soon following her down the driveway.

Beth sat silent and patient as they headed out of the gates and turned onto the road. She even managed to keep her mouth shut for the first ten minutes of the drive, but finally she couldn’t stand it anymore and said, “I notice you seem to know where I live.”

Rickart jerked his head toward her and then glanced to Magnus in the back seat before facing forward again and muttering something unintelligible.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that,” Beth said lightly. “Was that, ‘Why yes, Beth, we all know, thanks to Magnus following you around like a dog for the last century, spying on you?’”

Rickart turned to her sharply, his jaw hanging open until Magnus said mildly, “Watch the road, Rickart.”

There was silence for a moment after Rickart turned his attention back to traffic, and then Magnus cleared his throat and asked, “Scotty told you?”

“No. Matias read it from his mind,” Beth said grimly, crossing her arms over her chest and peering out at the passing cars.

“He asked me to do that only to keep you safe,” Magnus said quietly.

“I don’t know why. He doesn’t seem to want me for his life mate,” she snapped, and then couldn’t resist asking, “Does he?”

Even Beth winced at the pitifully hopeful tone to her voice. Cripes, she was turning into one of those pathetic women who chased after men they knew ultimately didn’t want them.

“He is struggling,” Magnus said solemnly after a moment. Which meant no, he didn’t want her, Beth translated.

“Why? With what?” she asked urgently, finally turning in her seat to look at him.

Magnus hesitated and then shook his head apologetically. “I cannot tell you that. You will have to find out for yourself. But I would advise you to get him to talk about his mother.”

“His mother,” Beth muttered, and flopped back around in her seat. “It always comes down to the mother, doesn’t it?”

“Except when it comes down to the father,” he said with amusement, and Beth grimaced. She’d had her own daddy issues. No doubt Magnus was reminding her of that. But she’d sorted through those. It’d taken a hundred years, but she’d done it. It seemed, however, if she was understanding Magnus right, that after eight hundred years, Scotty still had mommy issues. Great!

“Here we are,” Rickart announced moments later as he pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. “Do you want me to stay with the car? Or come up with you guys?”

Magnus didn’t hesitate. “Accompany us in case there is trouble.”

Beth didn’t comment. She didn’t really think Rickart was needed, but there was no reason to make him wait in the car like some chauffeur either.

There was something about having two six-foot-plus men on either side of you that made an elevator slightly claustrophobic, Beth decided as she watched the floor numbers light up on the panel over the door. This time there was no bratty kid pushing all the buttons, or even anyone else on the elevator needing to get off to slow them down. They reached her floor relatively quickly and Beth led them to her door. But when she went to put her key in, Magnus covered her hand.

“Allow me,” he said and took over opening the door.

Beth rolled her eyes with irritation at being treated like a damsel in distress, but stepped back and left him to it.

The apartment didn’t blow up when the door opened, but Magnus made her wait in the hall with Rickart while he checked the interior. Presumably for intruders or traps. She didn’t ask. Beth was too busy resenting the fact that she was being treated like some mortal civilian. She could’ve checked for traps and intruders too, or at least helped him do it. She was a Rogue Hunter too.

“All clear,” Magnus announced when he finally returned to the door.

“Thank you,” Beth said dryly, and entered her temporary home.

“Nice place,” Rickart commented as he followed.

“It’s a sublet,” she told him, heading into the kitchen to grab a bag of blood. She should have had one when she’d woken up but had been too eager to get out of the bedroom before Scotty woke to bother. “I took it until the start of fall. Hopefully by then Dree and the others will be back, and I’ll have a better idea where I’ll be stationed.”

“You do not think you will continue to work here?” Magnus asked with curiosity.

“I don’t know,” Beth admitted. “Dree and Harper have a place here in Toronto, but they spend a lot of time in some little town further south, Port something or other.” She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Taking the bag with her, she moved out of the kitchen and started across the living room toward the bedroom, saying, “There’s juice and blood in the fridge. The TV remote’s on the table. Make yourselves at home. I shouldn’t be long.”

Once in the bedroom, Beth popped the blood to her fangs and then walked to the closet to survey her choices. That was when she realized she might take a little longer than she’d expected. She really had no idea what to pack. How long was she going to be stuck at the Enforcer house? What was she likely to need while there? Was there a possibility she’d go out for dinner or something—say, on a date? And what would look most attractive to Scotty?

Yeah, that last question told her just how deep she’d got into things. Beth had never worried about what a date would want to see her in before. She’d always dressed for herself. She was definitely starting to care a little too much for Laird Cullen “Scotty” MacDonald. And likely to get her heart broken unless she could figure out what his issue was with his mother and how that might stop him from claiming her.

Beth had originally thought his issue must have something to do with her profession as a mortal. A lot of people would have trouble with taking on a life mate who used to be a prostitute. But she couldn’t imagine that Lady MacDonald had been a prostitute.

Sighing, Beth pulled the empty bag from her fangs and tossed it on the dresser for now. She then dragged out her overnight bags, only to turn around and put them back and retrieve a suitcase instead. Who knew how long it was going to take to sort out this business of someone trying to kill her? She might need clothes for a good long stay. Aside from that, she planned to pack for any eventuality.

“What?” Scotty stared at Mortimer blankly.

“I said Magnus took her to her apartment to collect some clothes,” Mortimer repeated patiently.

Scotty shook his head, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. He’d woken up just moments ago, rolled over to reach for Beth, found the bed empty for the first time in two days and had a small panic attack. Honestly, Scotty had freaked out and pretty much dressed on the way downstairs to search for her, pulling his jeans on as he hopped to the bedroom door, and then donning his shirt as he hurried to the stairs. He’d managed to get it only half-buttoned by the time he’d hit the main floor, and had finished the job as he’d walked through the house, looking in each room. Not only had he not found Beth, but he hadn’t seen anyone in the house at all until he found Mortimer and Donny in Mortimer’s office.

“But she’s no’ supposed to leave the house,” Scotty said finally.

“Beth was suffering a bit of cabin fever, and she wanted her clothes. She has Magnus with her,” Mortimer said reassuringly.

“And Rickart,” Donny added, and when Mortimer glanced at him in question, the younger man explained, “I saw them getting into Rickart’s car with him as I pulled into the garage.”

“There, you see?” Mortimer said, turning back to Scotty. “She will be fine.”

“How long ago did they leave?” he asked at once.

“I am not sure,” the head of the Enforcers admitted, glancing at his watch and then looking at Donny in question as he guessed, “An hour ago?”

“Closer to two,” the younger immortal corrected him.

“Hmm, time flies when you are chasing after a bunch of cowboy Enforcers hunting rogues,” he said dryly. Mortimer then glanced to Scotty and said, “They have probably already been to whatever fast food restaurant they chose in the end, so it’s probably too late to put in an order, but I can call them and see, if you like?”

“Call them,” Scotty said grimly. He was less concerned about placing an order for takeout than assuring himself that Beth was safe and on her way back to him. He couldn’t wait to have her in his arms again, but not just in his arms. He wanted, needed, her in his life. Being with Beth was like nothing he’d ever experienced. The sex was mind-blowing, of course, but it wasn’t just that. They’d also talked and laughed and just enjoyed each other’s company these last few days, and he’d found they had a lot in common. They had many of the same likes, the same opinions on various subjects and even the same morals, which had been shocking to Scotty. He’d been painting her a scarlet woman all these years because of one part of her life, but Beth was so much more than the one-dimensional woman he’d been viewing her as. These last few days had added many colors to his vision of her. Hell, the time he’d spent with her since arriving in Canada had done that. Beth was a rainbow, a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, and endlessly fascinating. Scotty felt a lightness of spirit when with her that he hadn’t experienced since being turned. He’d felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. He’d felt like he was no longer alone. Beth completed him.

Her past be damned, he thought grimly. There was no way to alter that. It was already written. He was the one who had to change if he wanted to hold on to the happiness he experienced with her. And he wanted that more than anything in this world. Scotty had come to that realization as he’d watched her sleep this morning, and before drifting off himself, he’d determined to tell her so when they woke up. He’d planned to tell her he was sorry for being such an ass, that she was a goddess among women and that without her he was nothing. He’d planned to beg her to forgive his stupidity, and to promise that if she’d only agree to be his life mate, he’d spend a lifetime making it up to her. Many lifetimes. Eternity, if they were allowed that.

But Scotty had never got the chance to tell Beth all of that and beg her forgiveness. He’d woken up to find the bed next to him empty, and had immediately had a terrible feeling he’d lost his chance, that something was wrong and he would never be able to claim the woman who possessed his heart.

The sound of ringing filled the room, and Scotty’s attention shifted to Mortimer. The man had put the call on speakerphone, he realized as the sound stopped mid-ring and a deep voice announced, “This is Magnus. Is there a problem, Mortimer?”

“No, no,” the head of the Enforcers said quickly, and then added, “Scotty’s up.”

“Ah,” Magnus said in his wise voice.

“Yeah,” Mortimer said dryly. “So, I think he wanted to be included in the takeout order, but you are probably almost home. Right?”

“Actually, we are still at Beth’s place,” Magnus said almost apologetically. “It took her longer to pack than expected. But we are just walking out to the car now. A quick stop for takeout and we will return.”

Moving to the desk, Scotty leaned toward the phone and barked, “Do no’ stop for takeout. Come straight back. Donny can go get takeout after ye return.”

“We are only going to stop at the drive-through on our way back, Scotty,” Magnus said in his patient voice. “It will be perfectly safe. I—”

“Come straight back,” Scotty repeated sharply.

“Just a minute,” Magnus said and must have placed the phone against his chest or covered it with his hand, because all they heard was a muffled, unintelligible conversation and some rustling.

Then Beth’s voice, clear but distant, snapped, “Give me the phone. Just give me the phone.”

Eyebrows rising, Scotty straightened and waited. He didn’t have long to wait.

“Hey!” Her voice came sharp over the speaker. “Listen here, Cullen MacDonald! You aren’t my boss, and you haven’t claimed me as your life mate, so you have no right to order me about. I can go for damned takeout if I want.”

Scotty’s eyebrows rose at her agitation. Beth had mostly been calm and even-tempered since he’d arrived in Canada. Well, other than the fight they’d had in Vancouver. But now she sounded more like the old Beth, angry and hurting. Something had obviously stirred her up, and he feared it probably had to do with him. He really should have woken her up and told her everything this morning, rather than wait until they’d both slept. Since he hadn’t said anything, Beth had no doubt concluded that nothing had changed and he was still a stupid ass unable to get over his hang-ups and claim her as he should.

“In fact,” Beth continued sharply, “I can stay here if I want, and maybe I just will since you’re being such a bossy bast—”

A loud explosion cut off her words, and then the line went dead.

Horror clutching at him, Scotty whirled toward the door. “Donny—!”

“I’m getting the SUV,” the younger man assured him as he rushed out of the room.

Scotty followed quickly.