by Cynthia Eden
“Why not?” Elise seemed genuinely curious. “I like you. You’re strong. You’re warm. And you carried me when my feet didn’t work.”
Her feet. Her bare feet. Maybe that was why she’d fallen—because she wasn’t wearing shoes and the pavement could be uneven?
Once more, he scooped her up. They were near his motorcycle, so he hurried forward and sat her on the seat.
She gave him a sunny smile.
He blinked. Harrison had zero clue what to do with her.
So…he knelt in front of her. He reached for her left foot.
“Oh, is this some sort of foreplay? I bet it is.” Her foot did a little jiggle. “I like it.”
His fingers slid over her foot. First around her ankle. Then up the sole of her foot.
She shivered.
“Are you drunk?” He didn’t smell alcohol on her. But… “High?”
“No.” Elise bit her lower lip. “Is it supposed to turn me on this much when you caress my foot? Because it does.”
His nostrils flared. Not a lie. “Who are you?”
“Elise. I told you that.” Her head cocked to the right. “Are you going to rub my other foot? I’d like that.”
“I’m not rubbing your feet.” He rubbed her foot. Dammit. She had cute feet. Dirty feet, but cute. “I’m looking for injuries.” He reached for her other foot. Stroked.
Saw her sigh. No, felt her sigh. A blissful, pleasure-filled sigh.
The woman liked having her feet rubbed.
Stay focused. “No cuts. Your feet don’t seem to have any broken bones.” He let go of her and rose. What in the hell should I do with her? “If I let you go, are you going to wind up facing off with another paranormal tonight?”
“Probably.” A nod. “I told you, the paranormals are drawn to me—”
“You stabbed Gustave.”
“He grabbed me.” Her words tumbled out as she added, “He was a werewolf! His eyes were glowing, and he was baring his fangs. I panicked!”
“Why are the paranormals drawn to you?”
She looked around the street. Cars whizzed past. A couple made out near the bar on the right. “Could we go somewhere else and talk about this? Somewhere, that is say, not in the open?”
“I can drop you off at your hotel.” Harrison made the offer grudgingly. Very, very grudgingly.
Her gaze swung back to him. “Couldn’t we just go back to your place?”
His heart stopped. Then raced. Then he decided to be blunt. “I take women back to my place only if we’re planning to fuck.”
Harrison saw her swallow before she asked, “Is that on tonight’s agenda?”
Was that on…
He backed up a step. “You’re offering to sleep with me…if—what? I protect you?”
“No, I’m offering to sleep with you because you’re really sexy and I like you. And…why are you staring at me like I have two heads?” She lifted up a hand and touched her one head. “Surely you’ve heard of one-night stands before? People hook up all the time. It’s a thing humans do.”
There was something about the way she’d just worded that statement…“It’s a thing humans do.” Now he was curious. And on high alert. “You never answered my question before.”
“You’ve had so many questions for me.” She fiddled with one of the handlebars. “Can you be more specific?”
“What are you?”
Her hand dropped away from the handlebar. “I can see why you don’t have a lot of one-night stand experience. You’re not very charming. Women like charming men.”
“I didn’t say I don’t have experience.”
She perked up. “Great. This should be fun then. For a minute, you had me worried that the sex would be bad.”
Bad? What in the—
“The werewolves are walking up behind you,” Elise whispered. “Does that mean you have to kill them now?”
He spun around. He’d been so distracted by her and her hot level of crazy that he hadn’t even realized the werewolves were there.
But when they saw him, the three wolves—the underlings, no sign of Gustave—lowered their heads in submission. They turned and headed the other way.
“So…you don’t just kill paranormals at will?” Her voice was curious and a bit too loud now. “That’s good to know. Because the word I’d heard was that you pretty much went after any paranormal that breathed.”
He had to get her out of there. He turned toward her once more. “Scoot back.”
Her lips curved down. A sexy pout. “Why can’t I drive?”
Seriously? “Because you seem to be having trouble walking, much less driving, so I don’t know that I trust you with my baby.”
She patted the handlebar again. “This is your baby?”
“Yes.” And she was a bad bitch that he adored.
“Fine. I guess you should drive since I’ve never actually ridden on a motorcycle before.”
She’d never ridden on one? And hell, yes, he should be driving. “Scoot. Back.”
She scooted back. He slid in front of her. “You should hold—”
Her arms locked around him. Squeezed tightly. Her body pressed to his so that he could feel oh, so much of her.
“That good?” Elise wanted to know.
Better than good. “Fabulous,” Harrison growled. Just fucking fabulous. The motorcycle snarled to life, and he shot them away from the curb.
***
“This is where you live?”
The lady didn’t sound overly impressed. Not surprising considering the fact that, from the outside, it looked like his house was a breath away from collapse. “Home sweet home,” Harrison muttered as he kicked down the stand for the bike and killed the engine.
She hopped off the motorcycle and glanced around the garage. “I’m sure that the place is great on the inside. You know, once you get to the actual house part.”
He climbed off the bike and lowered the garage door. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”
Her gaze swung back to him. “No?”
“Definitely, no.” The place wasn’t home, despite his sarcastic comment. It was just where he was currently crashing while he did his job and eliminated the supernatural killers out there. Without glancing to see if she followed him—because, come on, the woman hadn’t exactly been trying to run from him so Harrison knew she’d follow—he headed for the door. He unlocked it, stepped into the small laundry room, and reset his alarm system.
“Are there spirits here?” Her voice was low and all whispery. It also came from directly behind him.
Harrison laughed. “No, they’re all gone.” Sure, the place did look like a haunted house, though. An old Victorian that had been built back in the early 1900s, the house was huge and sprawling and in total disrepair. The porch in the front was sagging and littered with holes in the floor. The columns near the entrance were broken. Windows had been covered with plywood. The yard was totally overgrown, and the vegetation was doing its best to retake the house.
The interior was no better. As he headed for the kitchen, he realized why she’d asked about the ghosts. Cobwebs covered one hell of a lot. Sheets were over what furniture remained in the house. He just hadn’t gotten around to uncovering those things. He’d used the kitchen and the bed upstairs and that was pretty much it.
“Where is your staff?” She gave a quick spin as her horrified gaze took in everything. “Your servants?”
He laughed again. “You are freaking hilarious.”
She rounded on him. “I am dead serious.”
She looked it, too. Another laugh. He couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard. When he managed to control himself, Harrison told her, “I gave them the night off.”
“Call them back. Cancel the night off. You need them.”
She hadn’t gotten his joke, and he wasn’t sure he got her. Harrison headed for the fridge and yanked open the door. Sure, the rest of the house might look like shit, but his fridge was well stocked. He grabbed a
beer and popped the top. Harrison saluted her with the bottle. “There is no staff. There’s no one else here. There’s just me and there’s you.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Why do you live this way?”
“Because I’m a hunter. Because I drift into town when I’m tracking down monsters. Hunters have a chain of safe houses that we all use. In and out, staying only as long as necessary. There is no home for us. There’s just the job. So you don’t exactly get comfortable and hang up family pictures. You sleep. You eat. You kill. Then you move the hell on.” He drained the beer and slapped it down on the counter.
“That is so sad.” She took a few quick steps toward him. “I had no idea. Is that the way you’ve always lived?”
Shit. Now the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen was staring at him with pity in her eyes. Great. His night was rock star stellar. “Hunters are born to the life.” He didn’t need or want pity. “It is what it is.”
Her eyelids flickered. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, pretty damn sure. My dad was a hunter. His dad before him. I come from a long line of supernatural ass kickers.”
Her gaze slid away. “Where is your father now?” She was peering around as if she expected him to pop up from behind one of the sheet-covered pieces of furniture.
“Last I heard, he’s doing a job in Dallas. We don’t work together. I prefer to work alone.”
Her shoulders sagged a little. Huh. Was that relief? Sure looked like it to him. He didn’t mention the fact that after the Dallas job was complete, Jason Key was supposed to be heading to Savannah. Not that Harrison cared. He didn’t exactly get the warm and fuzzies where his old man was concerned.
Jason had raised him to be hard, to be brutal, and to form as few connections as possible in this world.
“So…” She rocked forward onto the balls of her bare feet. Her hands lifted and gestured toward him. “Are we going to do this?”
“This?” Now what was she talking about?
A quick, eager nod. “Yes. This. You said the only reason you brought a woman back to your place was to fuck.”
True, he had said that.
Her hands spread wide. “I’m here.”
His lips twitched. “You are.”
Another rock forward. “So are we going to do it here? Or is there possibly a cleaner room that we could move to?”
She still wanted to have sex with him. The woman was walking perfection—well, except for when she kept tripping. She could bat those long lashes of hers and probably have any human male she wanted groveling at her feet. Instead, she’d picked him. She’d ridden home on his loud-ass bike, she’d come into the house that even he referred to as the “pit of hell” and she was still up for bedroom games?
Oh, yes, he wanted to take her up on the offer, but he wasn’t a dumbass. He smiled, though. “Sure, let’s go upstairs.”
Her eyes flared. She gave a happy little jump. He could have even sworn that she hummed. Hummed, for God’s sake.
Then she was rushing ahead of him and climbing the spiral staircase. He was sure that staircase had been a thing to behold back in the day, but now, it mostly resembled a death trap. And with her tripping rate…hell, he hurried up to—literally—catch her as she stumbled mid-way up.
His arms slid under her when her feet did a weird little shuffle. She fell right back against him.
“Got you,” he rasped, his lips brushing her ear.
A shiver slid over her. Her head turned. “Thank you. I-I seem to just be having a little trouble—”
“Because you’re used to a different method of transportation.” Like that wasn’t a giant red flag. Who did she think she was kidding? He scooped her into his arms, though, so she wouldn’t break her neck on the way up those stairs. A neck that still sported dried blood. The sight of the wound on her throat made a hard anger stir in him.
Vamps were sadistic bastards. They’d rip their prey apart and laugh while their victims screamed.
So he’d killed them and laughed, too. He’d killed so many vamps over the years that he’d lost count.
“I’m not normally clumsy.” Her hands wrapped around his neck. She snuggled closer, like he was some kind of friggin’ teddy bear and not a bloodthirsty hunter. “But it’s been a really long night. A long day. A long week. And I’m not myself.”
Everything she said had the feel of truth. He almost hesitated and changed his plans for her.
Almost.
But he was a hunter first and foremost, and he wasn’t about to be fooled by a pretty face and a hot body.
He took her into the bedroom. Lowered her next to the bed.
Correction…he wasn’t going to be fooled by a very hot body.
Harrison stepped back. “I’m going to get something for your throat.”
“That’s nice of you.” She smiled at him.
Another correction…Elise wasn’t just pretty. She was drop-dead gorgeous. So pretty that it was almost unnatural. Probably because her beauty is unnatural. It’s a trick.
She nodded approvingly. “This room is much better than the area downstairs. I can actually see your furniture.”
Yes, it was rather hard to miss the massive, brass bed and the tousled covers in the middle of the room. Light spilled onto the bed, coming from the lamp on his nightstand. A leather chair sat to the right of the bed. A heavy, cherry dresser was to the left. A fireplace waited in the far-left corner of the room. An old, wood-burning fireplace. He’d put some wood in there earlier, and for a moment, he had a quick flash of that fire burning, crackling, and Elise naked in his bed.
His dick jerked eagerly as if to say…Yes, wonderful plan. Let’s go with that.
But he ignored his dick, or tried to. “Make yourself comfortable.” He cleared his throat because it sounded like he was growling and not talking. “I’ll be right back.”
Her little hum followed him, and Harrison glanced back. She was twisting around and looking at everything in the room. He almost smiled.
Instead, he stalked into the bathroom. Got her a wet cloth for her neck. Swiped a few other supplies from the pack he kept in there. Then he returned to her. He took two fast steps into the bedroom—
“Holy shit.”
She smiled at him.
He took in the stellar view before him. “You took off your dress.”
Elise blinked. “You told me to get comfortable.”
That wasn’t the same as saying get naked. And, luckily, she wasn’t completely naked. She’d ditched the dress and now stood beside the bed wearing a black bra and matching panties. No lace for her—looked like satin or silk or one of those soft and delicate things. Her bra pushed up her breasts, doing that Victoria’s Secret kind of magic and making every bit of moisture draw up in his mouth. As for her panties, they were…hell, what was the term? He’d seen a damn commercial on TV about them. Boy shorts. Hip huggers? Who the fuck knew? He couldn’t remember, not right then. All he could do was stare at her. He hadn’t thought those panties were sexy in the commercial. On her, though, hell, yes, they were sexy. Sexy as—
She walked toward him. “We did come here to make love, didn’t we?”
“You are so blunt.”
“Is that bad? Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” Again, he was growling. His right hand lifted the cloth and pressed it carefully—damn, almost tenderly—to her throat. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”
“You’re taking care of me.” She seemed shocked. Her smile was sunny and quick. “Thank you.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. I just don’t like staring at blood.”
“But you’re a hunter. Blood is your thing.”
He tossed the cloth aside. “Blood is a vampire’s thing. Not mine.” His head cocked as he studied her. “And while we’re talking about hunters, just how much do you know about me?”
“Not enough.”
But he was wagering she knew a whole lot more about him than he knew about her. Which
brought him to his next move… “Really sorry about this…”
“About what?”
His right hand flew up and he splashed water onto her chest and the front of her bra.
She blinked. Looked down. “Is this more foreplay? Some sort of really weird, hunter foreplay?”
“No, it’s holy water.”
She wiped away the droplets. “You thought I was possessed? Or like…what? A demon?” Elise shook her head. “If that’s what you believed, why not just put the holy water on the cloth you were using to clean my neck? Why splash me?”
Because he’d wanted to distract her with the splash. And she was distracted. She was looking down, wiping away the water, not focusing on him at all and—
He slipped the iron chain around her throat.
She screamed. Yeah, he’d rather been expecting that reaction. What he hadn’t expected? The fast and furious kick to his groin. Sonofabitch. She had one hell of a kick.
Chapter Three
“I am not into this!” Elise yelled as she yanked the chain off her neck. Harrison had doubled over in front of her after she’d delivered the kick to his groin. “No. Hard no. Hard. So hard!” She stormed for the door. “You don’t put a chain around a woman’s neck. You don’t do that shit. You don’t just—”
“It’s iron,” he huffed out from behind her. “And I had to test you.”
Elise froze. Her back was to him, so Harrison couldn’t see her face. She’d already known the small, intricate chain was made of iron. She’d known it was a test when he put the iron against her skin. But she had to play the scene the right way. “Test?” Her voice quivered a bit. The quiver was real because she’d been afraid she wouldn’t pass the test.
She had, though. Because, for the moment, anyway, she was wretchedly, weakly human.
That’s why I need him. Even if he’d just seriously pissed her off. She could hold a grudge forever, so the man had better watch himself.
“Iron burns most supernaturals.”
Elise shot a fast glance over her shoulder. He’d picked up the chain from the floor and was shoving it into a nightstand drawer. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Holy water, iron…what’s next? Want to feed me some garlic so you can see that I’m not a vampire? Or maybe you want to stab me with a silver knife to be sure I’m not a werewolf? What else is on tonight’s agenda?”