towel, and I was fine . . . below the neck anyway. There were no mirrors, and my distorted reflection in the stainless steel table wasn’t very helpful.
“Here,” Marsten said. “I’ll get your face if you can clean mine.”
He wet a fresh paper towel in the lab sink, and walked over to me. I lifted my face. He raised the cloth to my cheek, then paused to brush cobwebs from my hair. When he finished, he smiled, took a stray strand, and wrapped it around his finger. As he did, I could see, out of the corner of my eye, that it was more than a “stray strand.” It was a huge hunk of hair, which thirty minutes ago had been battened down in an upswept twist.
I groaned. “How bad is it?”
“It’s a bit . . . tousled. Very sexy.”
I lifted my hand to my hair and swore. At least half of it had come free. Beyond repair without a brush and a mirror . . . and a half-hour of styling time. I yanked out a handful of bobby pins, and gave my hair a shake, letting it fall down my back.
“Mmmm . . . very sexy.”
“Down, boy. We’re fleeing for our lives here, remember.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Any better?”
A wolfish grin. “Much. You look like you just crawled out of bed.”
“Damn it— not the look I’m aiming for.”
He caught my hands as I tried to smooth out the damage. “It’s fine. Tousled, yes, but it looks intentional.”
He put his hand under my chin and lifted the wet cloth again. Then he paused again.
“What now?” I said.
A low chuckle. “I was just thinking I’ve never seen a woman who looked so beautiful in dirt and cobwebs. Trouble suits you.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
“No, I’m sure I don’t, but I certainly hope I get the chance to find out.” He brushed his finger over my cheek.
“Fleeing for our lives, remember? Let’s save the flattery and soulful gazing until after we escape.”
“Is that a date?”
“Date!” I jumped so fast I knocked the paper towel from his hand. “Sorry. My date. Douglas. He’ll be looking for me. I need to tell him—”
“Tell him what? Don’t worry, I was held captive by a werewolf but I’m okay now . . . except for the deranged Cabal sorcerer on my tail?”
I glared up at him. “I’m serious. He’ll be worried—”
“Let him worry. From what I saw, it’s only . . . what, a first, maybe second date, and you didn’t seem very enamored—”
“He’s a nice guy. Kind of. He’s not evil.”
Marsten’s brow shot up. “That’s your dating criterion?”
“You know what I mean. He was worried, and I can’t just walk out on him. Plus, if my mother finds out I abandoned the guy she set me up with—”
“Your mother sets you up blind dates? With guys like that?” The corners of his mouth twitched. “She doesn’t like you very much, does she?”
“My mother—” I bit back at the rest, and started again. “My mother is just fine, which is why I won’t embarrass her like this. I do that enough as it is.”
His face softened. “All right. But, while I do understand, you’re forgetting—”
“The whole ‘fleeing for our lives’ part?” I took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll have to—I’ll work something out later. Apologize to my mother. Make it up to Douglas . . .”
“I don’t think you owe Douglas anything.” He paused. “If we need to go past the party, you can tell him. Make an excuse to leave, and call it even.”
I nodded and we finished getting ready.
I was picking cobwebs out of Marsten’s hair when I remembered something else.
“The gun,” I said. “I should’ve grabbed the gun.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. In my experience, guns are only good for threatening. In combat? I’m as likely to shoot my own foot. Best to avoid them altogether.”
“Easy to say when you have super strength, super senses, fangs, claws . . . ”
He glanced up at me as I plucked out another cobweb. “You are a . . . What’s the word
“Here,” Marsten said. “I’ll get your face if you can clean mine.”
He wet a fresh paper towel in the lab sink, and walked over to me. I lifted my face. He raised the cloth to my cheek, then paused to brush cobwebs from my hair. When he finished, he smiled, took a stray strand, and wrapped it around his finger. As he did, I could see, out of the corner of my eye, that it was more than a “stray strand.” It was a huge hunk of hair, which thirty minutes ago had been battened down in an upswept twist.
I groaned. “How bad is it?”
“It’s a bit . . . tousled. Very sexy.”
I lifted my hand to my hair and swore. At least half of it had come free. Beyond repair without a brush and a mirror . . . and a half-hour of styling time. I yanked out a handful of bobby pins, and gave my hair a shake, letting it fall down my back.
“Mmmm . . . very sexy.”
“Down, boy. We’re fleeing for our lives here, remember.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Any better?”
A wolfish grin. “Much. You look like you just crawled out of bed.”
“Damn it— not the look I’m aiming for.”
He caught my hands as I tried to smooth out the damage. “It’s fine. Tousled, yes, but it looks intentional.”
He put his hand under my chin and lifted the wet cloth again. Then he paused again.
“What now?” I said.
A low chuckle. “I was just thinking I’ve never seen a woman who looked so beautiful in dirt and cobwebs. Trouble suits you.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
“No, I’m sure I don’t, but I certainly hope I get the chance to find out.” He brushed his finger over my cheek.
“Fleeing for our lives, remember? Let’s save the flattery and soulful gazing until after we escape.”
“Is that a date?”
“Date!” I jumped so fast I knocked the paper towel from his hand. “Sorry. My date. Douglas. He’ll be looking for me. I need to tell him—”
“Tell him what? Don’t worry, I was held captive by a werewolf but I’m okay now . . . except for the deranged Cabal sorcerer on my tail?”
I glared up at him. “I’m serious. He’ll be worried—”
“Let him worry. From what I saw, it’s only . . . what, a first, maybe second date, and you didn’t seem very enamored—”
“He’s a nice guy. Kind of. He’s not evil.”
Marsten’s brow shot up. “That’s your dating criterion?”
“You know what I mean. He was worried, and I can’t just walk out on him. Plus, if my mother finds out I abandoned the guy she set me up with—”
“Your mother sets you up blind dates? With guys like that?” The corners of his mouth twitched. “She doesn’t like you very much, does she?”
“My mother—” I bit back at the rest, and started again. “My mother is just fine, which is why I won’t embarrass her like this. I do that enough as it is.”
His face softened. “All right. But, while I do understand, you’re forgetting—”
“The whole ‘fleeing for our lives’ part?” I took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll have to—I’ll work something out later. Apologize to my mother. Make it up to Douglas . . .”
“I don’t think you owe Douglas anything.” He paused. “If we need to go past the party, you can tell him. Make an excuse to leave, and call it even.”
I nodded and we finished getting ready.
I was picking cobwebs out of Marsten’s hair when I remembered something else.
“The gun,” I said. “I should’ve grabbed the gun.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. In my experience, guns are only good for threatening. In combat? I’m as likely to shoot my own foot. Best to avoid them altogether.”
“Easy to say when you have super strength, super senses, fangs, claws . . . ”
He glanced up at me as I plucked out another cobweb. “You are a . . . What’s the word
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