“No.” He threw his hands up in the air, then let them drop- as quick as that, seeming to relax. Raven found himself wary. Paxton Booth smiled and moved to finish making the tea he had started. “That settles it, then” he said. “Settles what?” Raven asked, watching suspiciously as he threw the two teabags in the tea pot and poured hot water over them.

Paxton shrugged mildly and set the kettle back. “I had intended on trying to talk to you, then checking into a hotel later tonight. However, now that you’ve hurt your-self and refuse to go to the hospital…” He turned away from the steeping tea to raise one eyebrow. “You won’t reconsider?”

“No.”

He nodded and turned back to plop the lid again on the teapot. The clink it made had an oddly satisfied sound to it as he explained, “I can’t leave you alone after such an injury. Head wounds are tricky. I Suppose I shall have to stay here.”

Raven was opening his mouth to let him know that he most certainly was not staying there, when he moved toward the refrigerator and asked, “Do you take milk?” Recalling the bag of blooded animal meat ripped open in the fridge, he raced past him and threw himself wildly in the front of him. “No!”

He stared at him, mouth agape, until he realized he stood before the refrigerator door with his arms widespread in a panicked pose. He immediately shifted to lean against it, arms and ankles crossed in a position he hoped appeared more natural. Then he glared at him for good measure.

It had the effect of making him close his mouth; then he aid uncertainly, “Oh, well, I do. If you have any.”

“No.”

Paxton nodded slowly, but concern filled his face an he actually lifted a hand to place it soft and warm against his forehead as if checking for fever. Raven inhaled the scent of his and felt his stance relax some what.

“Are you sure you won’t go to the hospital?” Paxton asked. “You’re acting a tad strange, and head wounds really aren’t something to mess with.”

“No.”

Raven was alarmed when he heard how low his voice had gone. He was even more concerned when Paxton Booth smiled and asked teasingly, “Now, why aren’t I surprised by that answer?”

Much to his dismay, he almost smiled back at him. Catching himself, he scowled harder instead and berated himself for his momentary weakness. Paxton Booth, editor, might be being nice to him right now, but that was only because he wanted something from him. And he would do well to remember that.

“Well, come along, then.”

Raven stopped his woolgathering to note that his editor had collected the tea tray and was moving toward the kitchen door. “We should move to the living room, where you can sit down for a bit. You took quite a blow,” he added as he pushed through the swinging door with one hip.

Raven took a step after him, then paused to glance back at the refrigerator, his thoughts on the other full bag of bloody animal meat inside. It was his last until the fresh delivery tomorrow night. He was terribly hungry, almost faint with it. Which was no doubt the reason behind his weakness in the face of Paxton booth steamroller approach. Perhaps just a nibble would strengthen him for the conversation ahead. He reached for the door.

“Raven?” He stiffened at the call. When had he stopped addressing him as Mr. Remington? And why did his name on his lips sound so sexy? He really needed to feed . He pulled the refrigerator door open and reached for the bag.

“Raven?” There was concern in his voice this time, and he sounded closer. He must be coming back. No doubt he feared he had passed out from his injury. He released a mutter of frustration and closed the refrigerator door. The last thing he needed was another debacle like spilling animal blood all over himself. That had already caused him unending problems, like the fact that the man now planned to stay with him. He’d meant to nix the idea at once, but had been to distracted by Mr. Booth approaching the refrigerator. Damn!

Well, he would straighten him out on that issue first thing. He’d be dammed if he was letting him stay here and harangue him about all this publicity nonsense. That was that. He would be firm. Cruel, if necessary. He wasn’t staying here.