"God it's like you've never heard of the concept of heating your house. FYI it makes it warm," Kenzi groaned through clenched teeth and pulled the blankets tighter around her body, burying herself deeper into his bed. Dyson gently placed his hand to her forehead, it was as warm as an open fire.
His night had been peaceful up until an hour ago, when Trick had called him saying Kenzi was passed out at the bar and Bo hadn't been answering her phone. Though he had wrote it off as Kenzi just drinking too much and wanted someone to collect the tiny girl, Dyson had dropped what he was doing and broke every speed limit law there was in the process of bringing Kenzi back to his loft.
"Dude. Paws off." Kenzi said, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Reluctantly, Dyson pulled his hand away from her face. After a moment or two, she opened one eye and peered up at him lazily. "Seriously, I'm fine. Give me a cup of coffee and a power nap and I'll be downright chipper."
"You're burning up, white as a sheet, and covered in every blanket I own." Dyson bit back the urge to growl, Trick shouldn't have let her drink in the first place. She was obviously sick, her skin was a ghostly pale color, her voice was raspy and her eyes were foggy. And judging by the way she slowly adjusted herself in the sheets, her limbs were achy and tired. He was going to give Trick the lecture of a lifetime for this. Regardless, Kenzi still opened her mouth to argue, but he could see the way she was straining to hold even a halfhearted glare. "So Kenzi, no, you're not fine." Dyson said, matching her glare with one of his own. She held his gaze for a second, before letting her eyes drift shut.
"Wait this is it? Jesus wolfie you should really invest in some more," Kenzi mumbled into his pillow. Dyson turned away from her while shaking his head and started towards his bathroom. He spent the next half an hour rifling through his medicine cabinet and pretty much every drawer in his apartment, only to come up with a rusty thermometer, a half used bottle of Tylenol and expired allergy medicine. Dyson cursed himself, of all the times Kenzi could've gotten sick, it had to be when he was drastically understocked in drugs and when she alone in his care. Well, the last bit didn't really matter. His wolf whined at the idea of Kenzi being left at the hands of anyone else in a weakened state and he knew for sure there was no way in hell that was ever happened. And to be honest, Dyson wasn't sure anyone else could really handle taking care of her. She was impossible, insufferable, in need of constant supervision, but totally, utterly irreplaceable. Dyson didn't want anyone to come within a fraction of a millimeter of the girl.
A loud thud from the next room sent Dyson rushing into it, his meager pharmaceutical stock in hand, only to find Kenzi sprawled out, face down on the floor, three feet away from the bed. Dyson rolled his eyes and scooped up the tiny girl. Normally the way she nudged herself further into his arms and pressed her head against his chest would've been the one thing on Dyson's mind, but the only thing he could register was how uncharacteristically hot her skin felt, and how she shivered nonstop. Dyson tucked Kenzi back into the bed, wrapping the covers tightly around her frame. He made his way to the door of his loft, keeping his eyes trained on Kenzi. The last thing he saw was a blur of tangled black hair nose its way so far under the covers that only the very tip of her head was poking out. Smiling, Dyson shut the door to his loft, fully intent on buying out the nearest pharmacy.