Before Boone could finish laughing, he felt the presence of someone behind him. He turned and saw Delilah. Her face showed sadness. Maybe a little bit of fear. He looked at her perplexed. He could not figure out what was really wrong. Why was she here? Delilah held out her hand; the hand which had been pierced by the vampire. The hand still showed the mark from the vampire's long pointy black talon. It had been two days, but the wound still had not healed. Boone knew there would be a scar. Not just the scar on her hand but the scar in her heart and soul. He knew she would always be afraid of what happened. He moved towards her with his hand proffered. He took her hand into his. Lifting her palm slowly and gently to his mouth, and without a word spoken, he licked the wound. Together they looked down and watched the scab and the scar disappear.
Boone looked into Delilah's eyes and then he glanced around. He looked at his surroundings and his home. It paled in comparison to the mansion Delilah lived in.
“I know it is not much,” Boone choked out. And then he slowly walked towards his bedroom, her hand still in his.
“It is perfect,” Delilah whispered. Words could barely express what she was feeling. Stopping next to the bed, Boone slowly lifted Delilah’s blouse over her head. Delilah, of course, was wearing her patented lacy red bra. Boone stared for a moment. She was perfect. Everything about Delilah was perfect.
“Stay with me,” Boone whispered. “I promise to keep you safe. I promised you before, and I almost failed. But I am not going to let it happen again.” A lone tear rolled down Delilah's face. Boone moved slowly, lifting his thumb to the single droplet. He gently wiped it away. “Don’t cry, Angel,” he whispered.
Boone stepped away slowly and reached for a t-shirt. “Lay down for a while. You are safe here. I have to leave for just a bit. I need to hunt, and then I will be back.”
Delilah had forgotten about the full moon. Boone did need to hunt. He did need to eat and keep himself healthy. “There is plenty of game nearby. I will grab a snack and be back in no time at all.”
Delilah could tell from Boone’s voice he regretted leaving her alone. But he and his wolf were hungry. And his wolf needed to eat. “I am sorry, Angel,” Boone sighed. The conflict between Boone and his wolf was tearing his heart in two. He closed his eyes to keep from seeing the pain of abandonment in Delilah’s eyes. He turned, his eyes still closed and walked away before he lost what little bit of resolve he had.
It was late in the day when they arrived back in Red Mountain. It was nearing midnight when Boone returned from his hunt. He quietly entered his home. The house was dark except for the soft flickering light from a wood burning fireplace. He wasn’t sure if Delilah was still in bed. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light. He found Delilah on the couch, curled up and asleep. She was covered with what appeared to be a fur blanket. Boone was confused. He did not own anything fur except his own wolf.
Boone tiptoed over and gazed at Delilah. She did look like an angel. He smiled in awe and reverence. Even after spending over a week sharing a hotel room, he had never actually watched her while she slept. He was amazed by her beauty. He had feelings for her, but he could not determine exactly what they were. Sure they were friends and partners, but he found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He knew she was so much more than the nickname he had bestowed on her. He was aware that there were so many more secrets she was withholding. But more than wanting to know the secrets, he wanted to know her. He wanted her. He could not imagine a day without her next to him.
Delilah awoke and saw Boone watching her. She smiled innocently. She stared up at the amazing man standing over her. Most women found him hot and sexy. But Delilah saw more; more than just a handsome face and an alluring body. She saw his trust. Delilah saw his heart and his soul; sweet, innocent and pure. She saw comfort. She saw her best friend.
“Fur blanket?” Boone asked breaking the silence.
“A gift,” she cooed. “A gag gift, I am sure.”
“A bit like the cereal I found when I came home.”
“My brother does like a good practical joke,” Delilah giggled.
“Your brother?” Boone inquired.
“First, you meet the sisters and then the brother,” Delilah shrugged.