He blinked. She had to be joking.

“Fine. Keys.” She held out her hand and he gave them to her, sighing gratefully when she climbed out of the passenger side. He managed to pull himself out of the driver’s seat and took her spot, but his knees were wobbly.

Damn. He was a lot more tired than he’d originally thought.

“Jeez, you look like shit. Let’s get you home, okay?”

He closed his eyes and nodded, leaving everything in her more than capable hands. Within seconds she was gently shaking his shoulder. “We’re here.” Julian opened his eyes. He must have nodded off. She’d taken him back to his place, thank the ancestors. He wasn’t up to dealing with Glory’s perkiness right now. Cyn got out of the car and held up her hand when he tried to follow. She opened his door and helped him get out. “In case you were wondering, we’re going to order in pizza and watch chick flicks.” She held up a bag and shook it, the videos she wanted to watch rattling around inside.

He couldn’t help but smile. “If you have a real chick flick in there I’ll let you tattoo anything you want on my ass.”

“Define real.” She opened her front door and tugged him in, plopping him on the sofa before turning on the lights and shutting the door.

“My idea of real, not yours. The Devil Wears Prada does not count.”

“Damn. There goes my vision of My Little Ponies dancing down your rainbow colored butt.”

He kicked off his shoes and lay down, his head beginning to pound. “Could you bring me some aspirin?” Back home he would have requested another Kermode help him, but he wasn’t home, and while he could call Alex or Ryan for help, he was strangely loathe to do so. He’d rather take aspirin and spend the evening alone with his mate than have his well-meaning friends come “help” him.

God forbid they called and told their family he wasn’t feeling well. He shuddered at the thought of his house filled to the rafters with yappy Foxes and growling Grizzlies. He’d dealt with that while recovering from saving Chloe, and the noise levels alone had his landlord threatening him with eviction. Any night where he’d had time to prepare for the onslaught would be fine, but he just wasn’t up to it right now. “So what is your idea of a chick flick?” This he had to see. He doubted it would be either sappy or sentimental. Maybe First Wives’ Club? His mother loved that film. Hell, even his father chuckled at the window washer scene.

She brought him his medicine and smirked. “You’ll see.” She picked up the phone and called for two pizzas, one Hawaiian, one pepperoni and mushroom.

He must have dozed off again because the smell of tomato sauce woke him. He hadn’t even heard the doorbell ring. His stomach growled. “Damn, that smells good.”

Cyn put the pizzas on the coffee table and brought them some sodas. “Ready for the horror?”

He grinned. He was beginning to feel better. “Sure.”

Two slices later he was staring at the screen, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. “Your idea of a chick flick is She-Devil?”

“That pink palace princess deserves everything she gets.”

Cyn’s grin was chock full of childish, evil glee. She munched her third slice of pizza, her gaze glued to the screen as Roseanne Barr blew up her own house with a happy sigh.

He smiled and settled back down, pleasantly full of good pizza. He watched his mate enjoy her movie and hid his grin.

His mother was going to adore Cyn.

Chapter Six

Julian nodded off again long before the movie ended. Cyn stared at him, worried at the thin strands of white still silvering his hair. She hadn’t seen the silver sparks in his eyes when he’d first picked her up. It had been too dark outside the shop and in the car. Now that they were in Julian’s home those sparks were obvious, and worrying. They weren’t fading the way they were supposed to, and he was almost as weak as he’d been after saving Chloe.

What the fuck had he done to himself?

She covered him with a blanket and left him, determined to let him rest. She left the film on loop so the lack of noise didn’t disturb him. She just turned it down before heading into the kitchen with the pizza boxes. She put the leftover pizza in the fridge and pondered what to do next. Should she leave him on the couch? Call Alex and Tabby and the rest of that insane gang of shifters? They might have a better clue what was wrong with him.

She didn’t like not knowing how to help him. Not one little stinking bit.

Hell. She was beginning to mutter in Spanish under her breath. Maybe it was time to call for some back-up. Cyn picked up the phone. If Julian was sick or needed help, then she needed Alex.

“Hello? Cyn? What’s wrong?”

Cyn grimaced at the breathless tone of Tabby’s voice. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“Oops. Sorry. Julian’s hair is white and he’s passed out on his sofa.”

Tabby sighed. “Why don’t you sound sorry?”

“Because I’m not. Put Alex on the phone for me. Good girl. Good girl.”

“Damn it, I’m not a dog, y’all. And stop leaving that bag of kibble in front of my door!”

Cyn heard deep, muffled laughter, and then Alex was on the phone. “What’s wrong with him?”

Damn, Bears had good hearing. She’d have to remember that. “Not sure. He picked me up at my shop, but halfway to his place he pulled over and asked me to drive. Honestly, once we were inside I was shocked. His hair is half white and his eyes are washed out.”

“Shit. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” The phone clicked shut. Cyn headed back into Julian’s living room to wait for Alex and Tabby, because where one went the other was rarely far behind.

She sat on the edge of the sofa and studied the man who claimed he was her mate. The white streaks didn’t bother her at all; in fact, they gave him an otherworldly look that was stunning. His Native American heritage was obvious in his dusky skin color, deep brown eyes and high cheekbones. His full lips invited kisses; his strong jaw showcased his stubborn side. The thin laugh lines at the corners of his eyes made her smile. His waist length hair was loose, lying around him in an inviting pool she wanted to sink her fingers into. He had the lean build she’d always preferred in her men, but with enough muscle underneath those scrubs to make her feel like she’d won the lottery. He had to be one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen, bar none, and he said he was all hers.