Lucifer didn’t pause a beat. The yowling went on and on.
“Ugh! Lucifer! I will let you out of the car so you can go live in the wild where you really will have to hunt your own food and there are wolves! I saw a wolf already. He’d gobble you up in one bite.” Reaching down, she rubbed her legs. They just had to work for a few more miles. “Okay, so Vanessa’s directions say there’s a turnoff up ahead. But if this is her way of offing her relatives, she’ll get no Christmas gifts from me.” She pulled back onto the road.
Oh, there was a turnoff. This still didn’t seem the right way back, but maybe Vanessa wasn’t pure evil, and there wouldn’t be a turnoff if nothing was there, right? She could throw herself on the mercy of some nice strangers.
She pulled out onto a pockmarked, seemingly abandoned dirt road and rethought her brilliant strategy. This was a horror story setting. All they needed was lightning illuminating a tall black house with shutters falling off.
Okay, she had to stop psyching herself out.
This wasn’t a horror movie.
She wasn’t going to run up the stairs to get away from the guy with the ax. You never ran up the stairs. If she didn’t run up the stairs—not that she could at this point anyway—she’d be fine. In theory. This was the longest, freakiest road she’d ever driven on. Anything this led to could only end badly.
When she saw a house lit up ahead, she almost turned back. She stepped on the brake, but her leg went limp, so she leaned forward and pressed her hands down on her thigh. The car shuddered to a stop. Yeah, she was real safe to be out on the roads. Reaction time like a ninja.
“I swear this is what her directions say!” She gestured at the house. “I mean, not go to the creepy house at the end of the street, but that turnoff was in the directions.” She grabbed the paper. “And then there’s a happy face.” Shaking her head, Christa threw the directions on the floor. “It’s because I ate the last three marshmallows. How the hell was I to know that marshmallows are sacred? There should have been a sign. ‘Keep out, Christa, if you value your life.’”
Lucifer went silent, and a thump sounded on the back of the carrier as he shoved himself away from the bars. Scary. Nothing freaked Lucifer out.
She swallowed what seemed like a boulder in her throat. Crap. Her window fogged up again. Her car’s defrost couldn’t keep up with tonight. Probably because she was two seconds from hyperventilating.
Rolling down her window to clear it off, she took a deep breath of the rain-soaked air. “Maybe we should…” And it hit her—that weird smell, the smell of forever…or maybe it wasn’t a smell. Maybe it was a feeling. Whatever it was, she suddenly didn’t feel crazy for heading toward this house. They probably could help her. No, they absolutely could. Wow, this positive thinking was sooo not her, but it was better than telling herself ghost stories.
Rolling up the window, she kept going.
The rambler that appeared was brown, without a gargoyle or black spire in sight, and all the shutters hung neatly. It was big. It probably belonged to a big family. People with big families rarely murdered stranded motorists and fed their entrails to the sharks. They might not even have sharks. Maybe they had kids—kids willing to look after a cat.
Christa pushed out of the car unsteadily before reaching in and grabbing her purse and the carrier. If they weren’t friendly, maybe she’d ask if she could spend the night in their driveway. Her legs felt a little too weak for her to get up to speed or brake quickly, and with the roads being slick, she shouldn’t be driving.
“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to Lucifer.
It took her far too long to get up the three front steps, but it took her even longer to build up the courage to ring the doorbell. It was only eight, but people with kids put their kids to bed early—if the kids ever went to sleep. Nathanial seemed to be fine without it—he seemed to be going for some sort of record.
Reaching forward, she pushed in the doorbell and held it for a second as she had a dizzy spell. Whoa! Swallowing, she leaned back, ending the longest chime in the history of doorbells. Whoever lived in this house probably thought she was a freak. At least Lucifer was being quiet. If not for the weight in her hand, she’d have thought he wasn’t in the carrier—he was that silent.
The tap of steps on a wooden floor made her sigh in relief. Cool. She wouldn’t be sleeping on the porch in a puddle.
The door opened and a blast of warm, cozy air breathed across her, and she closed her eyes. She felt home—really. She’d never felt anything like it. It conjured up visions of resting on a couch in front of a warm fireplace with Lucifer curled up on the floor.
And she looked up…and kept looking up…and kept going. “It’s you,” she said, smiling. The guy from the hospital room. The guy she was absolutely—under no circumstances—to see ever again. Ever. And so of course she’d always intended to hunt him down when she was feeling better. Instead, a set of lousy directions had taken her right here. How awesomely serendipitous. Anything that saved her from wandering around searching for someone was good in her book.
“It’s you,” he said, shaking his head back and forth slowly. He was so huge and gorgeous. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, which matched his black, black hair and warm tan skin. Definitely some Native American blood a few generations back. His eyes were scanning her face as if he couldn’t believe them—as if they had to be lying. Then those dark eyes of his dropped to the carrier she held, and they narrowed. “Oh, it’s that cat.”
“You know Lucifer?” She nearly wept in relief. Someone who knew her cat. She heard an angelic chorus in the distance. She might be able to beg this guy to take Lucifer until she could find more permanent arrangements.
“Is that its name?” He raised his eyebrows.
Oh, well, that sounded less than enthusiastic.
“He came with that name—it’s not very appropriate in my opinion.” She leaned heavily against the doorframe. “I know this sounds really presumptuous…but can I come in?”
“You shouldn’t. If your brother knew…”
“I’m about to pass out flat on your porch. I’m pretty sure he’d rather I do that inside. So unless you’re planning on killing me—which is doubtful because we have the same taste in stupid hospital balloons—I’d be better off on your floor than on the porch.”
His eyes widened, and he took the carrier from her as he put a hand at her elbow to help her inside. “I’m sorry.” He closed the door behind her. “Do you need to sit down?”
She took a deep breath. Well, that was better. “No, I’m doing okay. I guess it was the humidity getting to me or something.” Something about this place and this man made her feel healthier and more alive, even if he did immediately take his hand off her elbow and step away from her.
She glanced around the house to get her bearings. It was weird coming here—seeing him here. He had the home court advantage. It was a little like cornering a wolf in its den. She’d expected to be on more equal footing when they met again—when she solved the mystery of the man she was absolutely not to know.
The house was nice. Elegant. It was simply but expensively furnished. The entryway was huge—it would hold the tallest Christmas tree a person could find. There were long windows up above her, but with the clouds and darkness, they were black reflections of the light inside. They’d look amazing in the light of day.
When her eyes finally went back to the man—the guy Vanessa and Dane had called Jordan—he was eyeing her warily as if he was afraid she’d bite.
She brushed her shoulder-length brown hair back and tried to pat it down. It was probably sticking up everywhere—she tended to mess with it when she was stressed. “I probably look awful. I’ve been on the road for a while.”
“No, you look fine.”
She swallowed. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but she had shown up on his front porch unannounced. He might not even really know who she was. “I’m Christa. We sort of met in Vanessa’s hospital room—only y
ou acted really weird and ran out.”
“You’re Dane’s sister.”
“Yep.
“You’re Dane’s sister.”
She squinted. “You said that twice.”
“It’s worth repeating. You really shouldn’t be here.” He held up the carrier. “And this…shouldn’t be here either.”
She dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Well, I guess that means I can’t throw myself on your mercy and ask you to keep Lucifer for a few days.”
“I wouldn’t take this animal if you paid me,” he said as he looked into the carrier with a glare.
She chewed on her bottom lip. That sounded really adamant. “Oh.” So much for thinking she’d solved any part of her problem. Instead she’d landed in a stranger’s place, a nomad, with a cat no one wanted except her, and she couldn’t have Lucifer with her. And as if it wasn’t all bad enough, her knees suddenly gave out, and she dropped with a thump onto the wood floor. Wood floors always made for painful landings.
“Are you okay?” Jordan was crouching beside her in an instant.
His concern wasn’t helping—well, it was, but she could feel the hot prick of tears that she blinked away. “I’m fine. I guess you just make me weak in the knees.” Her laugh sounded forced, but better laughing than crying. Of all the times for her to fall on her ass…
He shook his head. “I should’ve known. You’re as stubborn as he is. You don’t ask for help unless it’s the only option—and probably not even then most of the time.” He swept her up in his arms as if she weighed less than Lucifer—and he was still carrying Lucifer’s kennel in his hand, too. As he walked through the house, he kept muttering. “I must have done something truly horrendous in another life. I thought when I first heard the car I was hallucinating—I’m functioning on that little sleep, but…no, you’re here. Of course you’re here, and you’re Dane’s sister—of course you’re Dane’s sister.”
They entered a library, which was obviously a bastion of masculinity if the dark oak and leather furniture were anything to go by. A gigantic desk sat in front of a window that stretched from floor to ceiling. Jordan seemed to surround himself with huge everything. If she hadn’t seen him, she’d guess he was compensating for something, but, well, he wasn’t. Probably.
Best of all, there was a fireplace—with a fire. She felt soaked from the chilly humidity in the air and her slow amble to the front door from her car.
He set her carefully on a leather couch before holding up the carrier to his narrowed eyes. Sending a glare back at its occupant, Jordan said slowly, “You will listen to me. This is my place. My domain. If you so much as drop a hair on my carpet, there will be repercussions.”
Christa pushed herself back against the couch as Jordan lowered the carrier to the floor and opened it. Who threatened a cat like that? She wanted to scream, “Run, Lucifer, run for your life!”
To her surprise, Lucifer slowly emerged with his head ducked—as if he was sadder and wiser. The chubby black cat ambled over to the fireplace and curled up in front of it. Well, that was weird. Normally, Lucifer would explore an entire place before he settled down. And, okay, maybe he’d break a few things that didn’t agree with him or pee on things to test your patience, but he wasn’t a bad cat.
Jordan nodded before turning back to her. “Now…why is that cat here?”
She grimaced. “I don’t like the way you keep referring to Lucifer as ‘that cat.’ I don’t call you ‘that man.’ I call you by your name, Jordan.”
He jerked as if she’d startled him.
“Jordan,” she said again.
He narrowed his eyes.
She smiled. Maybe it was in her female chromosomes passed down from Eve, but she knew he wasn’t immune to her—in fact, something about her scared the crap out of him. She sat up.
Jordan—this giant of a man—actually took a step back. “You should go.”
“I have nowhere to go.” She felt strong enough to stand up…if she leaned on the arm of the couch.
He took another step back. “Why?”
“The place I was boarding Lucifer refused to keep him, and I can’t take him to my brother’s house because Vanessa is practically allergic to oxygen.” Not to mention Vanessa seemed to have sent her here…but she wasn’t going to bring that up. Dane was really opposed to her meeting Jordan. Actually, Jordan was opposed to her meeting Jordan, but he was out of luck.
“I’ll take care of your cat.” He crossed his arms. “It’s fine. We have an understanding.”
She crossed her arms, still leaning against the arm of the couch. “But I’m covered in cat hair. I can’t go back to their house like this.” What was she doing? She’d fallen at this guy’s feet. And she barely knew him. But for some reason, it seemed imperative that she stay here—that she surrender no ground.
Mmm. Jordan probably weighed twice as much as her. And he was dark as sin—the good kind of sin. She should be running from him, not wanting to curl up just like her cat.
“You can take a shower.” It was empowering to hear him so desperate, even if she didn’t know why he was. Jordan wasn’t a weak man, but he certainly had some sort of weakness for her.
“No clothes.” She gestured down. “I didn’t expect the roads to be this bad or to be bringing Lucifer back with me.”
“I can get you some clothes.”
That stopped her dead. She swallowed. If he had women’s clothes here, either he’d been in a relationship recently or he might even be in one right now. He might be married. Maybe that was why her brother had told her to stay away from him. She looked down. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That made a lot more sense than any of the wilder explanations she’d contrived, and she’d thought of some really weird explanations—especially since her brother had mentioned a wolf.
Jordan was married, and he probably took up with all the women who visited town…meanwhile, he kept his wife locked in the cellar. He probably threw moldy bread down to her while he cavorted with strange women above her.
“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Does this place have a cellar?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, drawing it out. “Why?”
Because his wife was in it. It was occupied.
“Nothing. I should go. I’ll go find somewhere to stay and then buy new clothes in the morning.” Why had she thought he was interested in her? She was scrawny. Weak. And she had a furry dependent that apparently no one wanted. There was nothing about her that’d appeal to this guy, who could be on a billboard modeling those jeans he was wearing.
“I told you I could get you some clothes.” His voice sounded determined. It was probably the same voice he used on his wife when she asked for an extra crust of bread.
“I don’t want any women’s clothes you have around here—that’s…weird.” Creepy. Disgusting. And it made this intense feeling of attraction she had for Jordan dirty. She was attracted to someone unavailable. Oh, hell, she was that woman—that woman she’d always shaken her head at and said, “Get your own man.” Also, this wife she’d conjured up in the cellar might need those clothes if she ever escaped and ran for the police.
“I don’t have women’s clothing here. Do I look like a cross-dresser?”
The appalled horror in his voice made her smile and look up at him through her lashes. “A little.” It also helped smother her worries pretty effectively. If he didn’t have women’s clothing here, he probably wasn’t in a serious relationship…or he kept his cellar wife in very poor circumstances.
Maybe she should have kept some of her suspension of disbelief. She really couldn’t imagine a man less likely to be a cross-dresser, though.
Clearly he agreed because his mouth dropped open, and he shook his head. “No, I’m not…but I can find you something that would work until you get home. Though if Dane sees you wearing my clothes, he’ll be here with his shotgun in a heartbeat.”
“What does he have against you?”
He grimaced. “Nothin
g. But it’s justified.”
Nothing, but it’s justified? What did that even mean? She took a step toward him, forgetting she wasn’t in any shape to be strolling about the room, and he grabbed her around the waist on her way down for the second time as she reached for his arms.
“You might be even more stubborn than your brother. Hell, woman, stay put.”
She stood in front of him, his hands at her waist and her hands on his arms. They were a breath apart. “You were just telling me to leave.” Her voice was soft, but watching him swallow as his gaze devoured her bolstered her self-esteem.
A long pause as he stared at her, and his hands tightened at her waist for a heartbeat before he blinked and shook his head. “Well, now I’m telling you to stay.”
She edged closer to him. This must be how Lucifer felt—why he was obeying Jordan. It was like an innate desire to do what Jordan said just to stay in his favor. She’d never felt anything like this. Her parents swore she was more obstinate than Dane had ever dreamed of being. “I can stay.”
He swallowed, but then nodded. “For tonight.”
She shrugged.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll keep your cat as long as you need, but I’m only keeping you for tonight.”
Her heart sped up, and she grinned. “You’re keeping me?”
“Aw, hell.”
…
She weighed nothing—he’d carried bags of packing peanuts that weighed more than Christa. She was a little taller than he’d given her credit for, but her thin frame deceptively made her seem fairy-sized.
“You should eat more,” he said as he carried her to his guest room. She’d managed to get a cell signal long enough to text a message to Vanessa that she was staying with someone because she was too tired to drive. So hopefully, Dane wouldn’t show up with a shotgun before morning.
Hopefully.
At least Vanessa was still too occupied with her son to do patrols, because Christa’s car was in front of his house, and any Lycan within a mile would know there was a female in his house—in the monk Alpha’s lair.
This Weakness For You (Entangled Select Otherworld) (Taming the Pack) Page 4