His Imperfect Mate 26 Read Online Free PDF Page B

closet, grabbing some towels and then snooping around until he found the bathroom. D set his towels down on the closed toilet seat, assessing himself in the mirror.
    Fuck, he looked like total shit. He ran his hands through his limp hair, turning his head one way and then the other, finally seeing what everyone else saw—a vampire who looked like he should be dead from the coloring of his skin.
    He shuddered as he looked away from the glass and turned the water on. Stripping down naked, D stepped under the spray, the heat soaking into his tired bones. The water felt good on his skin as he started to scrub his thin body.
    D had been so out of it the past few months that he hadn’t even noticed or cared what he had looked like. Now that he was taking a closer look at the sickly way his skin hung from him, he knew he had to put some weight back on and get his pale glow back.
    After he was finished showering, D scrubbed his hair dry and then wrapped a towel around his waist as he headed back toward the bedroom. He didn’t have any clothes to change into yet, so he sat back on the bed. The damn thing was so high off of the ground that D nearly had to jump to get onto the mattress.
    He strummed his fingers on his legs, feeling stupid sitting there naked save for a cotton towel around his lean waist. His head snapped around when he heard a sharp intake of breath. Sloane was standing there with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes glued to D’s naked torso.
    D had a strong urge to cover his exposed body. He hadn’t been eating or sleeping properly in months. His figure must be a frightful sight to his mate. D knew he looked like shit, but he didn’t need Sloane’s sharp and assessing eyes telling him the truth.
    Sloane sat D’s duffel bag on the bed, unzipping it, and fished through it until he pulled out a bag of blood. “Am I supposed to heat this first?” he asked as he bounced his hand up and down with the weight of the bag.
    D drooled at the sight of his food. “You can,” he whispered as he grabbed the duffel, digging through it for a shirt to put on. D didn’t like his mate looking at him as if he disgusted the guy. Once he yanked the T-shirt over his head and let it fall down to his waist, D was able to look up at Sloane, knowing his mate wasn’t staring at his figure.
    “How long?” Sloane asked as his fingers gripped the bag.
    “Just until it’s warm. You know, body temperature.” He scraped his teeth over his lower lip, wishing Sloane would leave so he could finish dressing. Stretching across the bed, D shuffled through the bag until he found a pair of jeans and some socks. There was even an extra pair of sneakers in there. Whoever packed the bag had been thoughtful. His toothbrush was in there as well.
    Sloane gave a silent nod as he left D to get dressed. As soon as his mate was gone, D jumped from the bed and yanked his jeans and socks on, feeling less exposed now that his skinny ass was covered.
    He snagged his toothbrush from the bed and walked back to the bathroom. Just as he rinsed his mouth he heard Sloane downstairs cursing up a storm. He was using words D hadn’t even heard before.
    Panic seized him as he ran from the bathroom and raced downstairs, fearing his father had found them.
    He skidded to a halt in the kitchen, his head snapping around looking for the cause of his mate’s outburst. His mouth dropped open as he watched Sloane standing there yelling at the microwave as blood dripped from the counter, hitting the floor and making a nasty mess. D threw his hand over his mouth, stifling the snicker.
    Chance had done that same thing once before when he had heated the bag of blood. It was obvious that Sloane had left it in there too long and the bag cooked open. D hurried over to the paper towels and began ripping them off the roll.
    As funny as the situation was to him, he didn’t want to test Sloane’s patience. He was being given another chance, and D didn’t want to be