Della tensed, ready to tell him that Steve got that black eye standing up for her. Something she suddenly realized that Lee had never done. Not even with his parents.

"Actually," Steve spoke up again, "we were just wrestling around in bed and Della got me in the eye with her elbow."

Lee's shoulders tightened and all Della could think was, Go Steve.

Mei looked up at Lee and seemed to see his reaction. A tightness pulled at the girl's brow as she glanced back at Della. Della recognized that tightness as plain ol' jealousy. She'd felt it tug at her own brow every time she thought of Lee with someone else. Oddly, now Della felt ... What did she feel? Angry. Hurt. Sad. But she didn't feel jealous. That meant something, Della knew that, but now wasn't the time to contemplate it.

"We should..." Her words got hung up when she met Lee's eyes again. The sad feeling swelled in her chest and she realized a better name for that emotion. Grief. She had loved Lee. Loved him with everything she had. And she'd given him her all-her heart, her body, her mind. Now she'd lost him. And now she grieved for what used to be.

"Go. We should go," Steve finished for her. "I already took care of the bill." Steve let go of her waist and held out his hand to Lee. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Lee didn't take it. Which was super-awkward and not like Lee. He normally wasn't rude. Or was he? Had she missed that about him, too? Della nodded at the couple and when Steve's arm found its way back around her she let him guide her away.

They left the restaurant and it took a few seconds of the cold fall air hitting her face to realize she was still holding onto Steve. Holding onto him as if the ship of her life had been capsized. As if he was the only thing floating in the stormy waters to cling to.

The sense of weakness, feelings she could easily drown in, washed over her and sparked another flicker of anger. A big one this time.

She pulled away. Confusion bounced around her gut. The grief clung to her heart as tightly as she'd clung to Steve just a few minutes ago, but then the anger she'd experienced earlier returned. She opened herself up to that emotion. Anger she could handle, anger she could run with. So she let it roll around her, washing away the other emotions that made her feel weak and vulnerable.

She looked at Steve, who appeared happy, just the opposite of how she felt. "You followed me," she accused him.

The slight smile in his eyes dimmed. "I was obeying orders," he said. "We were told to stay together at all times."

"Damn it! I don't give a shit about orders. I don't like to be followed." A heaviness filled her chest and she recognized it as guilt. Guilt for ...

"Then don't run away again," he said matter-of-factly and started walking to the back of the restaurant.

Damn it. Guilt for acting like an idiot with the person who'd just saved her.

She caught up with him. "I'm not finished talking!" she seethed.

He came to a quick halt and swung around. "But I'm finished listening. You can get mad all you want. I was trying to help." He took off again.

"I said I wasn't finished!" She flashed forward and shot in front of him, putting a hand out to stop him. When her hand met his warm chest, it reminded her just how cold she was and she pulled it away. She glanced up at him, he looked about ready to give her hell, but she spoke first.

"Thank you!" she growled.

His mouth opened as if to say something, but nothing came out. No doubt he was shocked at her declaration. And damn it, but she knew how he felt. She hadn't meant to say that-not that he didn't deserve to hear it, he did, but ...

"Wow." He finally spoke. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone express gratitude in such a pissed off, angry tone."

"That's because I am angry. I'm furious. You followed me. Then you ... you kissed me, with tongue, in front of everyone."

His brown eyes lit up with a smile again. He leaned in a little closer. His warm breath stirred against her forehead. "And it was really good, wasn't it?"

She glared at him and took a step back.

"Okay, if it's not for the kiss, what are you thanking me for?" he asked, sounding puzzled and yet interested.

Once again she shared his feeling, the puzzled one, that is. "I don't know," she seethed. But then instantly the answer dawned on her. He'd saved her from looking pathetic, from looking like a heartbroken ex-girlfriend.

"You are a real piece of work, Della Tsang." He reached out as if to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.

She didn't know if that was a compliment or an insult, but she slapped his hand just in case.

He laughed. "It really wasn't bad for a first kiss, you know. Usually they're kind of awkward. But that ... that wasn't awkward. It was hot."

She thought about the kiss, the warmth of his mouth, the feel of his tongue. How he had tasted. "I'm glad you liked it, because it was your last," she snapped.

She turned to fly off. Her feet weren't all the way off the ground when she heard his reply.

"We'll have to see about that."

She gritted her teeth, continued toward the cabin, and fought the fear that if she wasn't really careful, he might be right.

And that would be wrong.

Wouldn't it?

* * *

Three thirty couldn't have come any slower. The new sheet, pillowcase, blanket, and Lysol helped, but she kept waking up every few minutes. With the cabin out in the woods, the only noises were a few animals. It should have been a fine place to get a good night's sleep. However, being a vampire and basically nocturnal, she never slept well at night.