He might quit his job after all.
Chapter Sixteen
After about fifteen minutes of driving across town, the shiny Range Rover turned off the highway toward a small shopping center with neon signs and twinkling lights. Charity came out of the stupor induced by Devon’s cushy leather seats in time to see him pull into a deserted fast food drive-thru.
“What do ya want?” he asked, eyeing the options.
The bright glow of the menu chased the darkness away. She traced the edge of her fingernail as she remembered the balance of her checking account. It was under twelve dollars, which would need to last her the whole week.
“I’m okay. I brought food.” Her stomach growled, punctuating her words.
Devon hung his head. Lines of fatigue had worked around his speckled eyes, making his thick black lashes droop. He leaned back against the seat. “Look,” he said. He ran his hand across his face. “I know you’re starving. Neither of us want to go home and make something. I also know you’re holding out because you don’t have the money. It’s five dollars, Charity. I’m good for it. You need to learn to pick your battles.”
“Number three, please. With a Coke.”
“Thank you.”
When they got their food, Charity reached for a fry.
“No, not yet.” Devon scrunched the top of the bag so the heat would stay in.
“What do you mean?” she asked as he turned off the street and onto a dirt road.
“Can’t eat until you get there. It’ll let all the heat out.”
Her mouth dropped open as she watched him expertly handle the vehicle around a sharp turn and a jutting tree. The soft green lights from the dash carved out the structure of his face. His deep-set eyes and high cheekbones almost made him look regal, but that strong jaw and slight cleft in his chin bent him toward core-tighteningly masculine. She could understand why Samantha wanted him over Donnie. He wasn’t just a guy with a handsome face or a nice body; he had a certain raw quality about him. He was bare and ruthless and unkempt. He might’ve styled himself just so, but that was a façade. Underneath, he was wild. Uncontrollable and untamable. Savage, even.
Charity took a deep breath. He’d be miserable to house-train. Thankfully, all she had to do was somewhat get along with him until she could figure out the next steps.
“Me hungry,” she said. “I just want one fry.”
“No. The rule is, you have to wait until you get home.”
She stared at him. “Didn’t you just say we had to pick our battles?”
“Yes. And this is my chosen battle. You can’t open it until you get there.”
“It’s not a present!”
“It will be when you get there. Fries are delicious.” A childlike grin lit up his face.
Charity snorted as they pulled into a driveway lined on one side with a beautiful lawn and flower garden. Yawning trees surrounded the property, offering beauty and privacy. A light clicked on as they neared the garage, bathing the driveway. The residence sprawled out, beckoning them in like wayward travelers.
“Are you the only one that lives here?” Charity asked, fries forgotten.
“Yes. I bought it a couple years ago.”
Devon balanced the computer, the food, and her duffel bag, leaving her to bring in her bag of pillaged food and the drinks. As she climbed out of the SUV, her gaze slid to the murky darkness that pooled between the bases of the trees pressing in on the house, turning into an oily black deeper into the foliage. Anything could be hiding in there, ready to surge out at them. But that wasn’t why her heart was suddenly rampaging through her chest. She was terrified that the creature who stepped out of the darkness would wear Sam’s or Donnie’s face.
“You coming?” Devon asked, heading toward the front door.
Hustling toward the house, she was still looking at the tree line when she bumped into Devon. Normally she would apologize and step back, but the solidity of his body, and the feeling of safety it imparted, shocked into her. She pushed into him, her stuff held out to the sides so her whole front was plastered against his back. She buried her face in the groove between his back muscles like an ostrich at the beach.
“This place is warded. Unless we’re sieged, no one is getting through,” Devon said tiredly.
“What do you mean, warded? Like with magic?” she mumbled into his shirt.
“Yes. I hired one of the best mages I could find to place protective spells around the property. You’ll be safe here. As safe as anywhere, at least.”
He waited for a second after opening the door. She waited with him, tempted to fall asleep against his warm, manly-smelling T-shirt. It had been a long day.
“Charity?”
“Devon?”
“What… Can… Seriously?”
She tilted back on her heels, eyes half-open. A quick gaze to the tree line, and…
They were still standing there. Why were they still standing there?
“Go.” Charity nudged him with her chin.
He stepped to the side and scowled down at her. “Ladies first! Hurry up. I’m starving.”
“Only you are still a jerk when you’re being a gentleman.” She grinned before trudging into the house.
“At least I am being a gentleman. I bet your precious Donnie didn’t hold doors for you.”
She was about to grudgingly accede when reality slapped her. Donnie was no longer the boy she’d known. He was almost certainly a vampire.
“Sorry,” Devon murmured, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Struggling for a cleansing breath, trying not to let fear erode her courage, she glanced around. They’d entered a living room of sorts, with a huge media center off to the side. The furnishings and decorative art were classy but not showy. Everything had been bought for use rather than grandstanding. Down the hallway and to the left was another living area, but without the electronics. Two couches faced each other in front of a fireplace—a sitting room?
The next stop was the kitchen, decked out with high-dollar appliances that looked new and shiny. Also unused.
“How long have you lived here?” Charity asked, putting her stuff to the side and setting the drinks on the small, circular table in the corner, removed somewhat from the island. A formal dining room peeked out through a doorway off the kitchen.
“A little over two years. I got a bonus when I made alpha. I’m the youngest alpha since Roger.” Pride rang in his voice as he tore into the bag of greasy delight, somehow not immediately shoving a fry into his face. His control was unreal.
“Everything here looks really new,” Charity said, watching in fascination as Devon took out each component of his meal and set it in front of him, just so. He opened his hamburger, but didn’t immediately chomp down. Instead, he spread the paper, put his fries—still untested—in the corner diagonally, and his Coke directly in front of him. Only then he did he start to eat.
He also noticed her staring.
“What?” he asked through a full mouth.
“Precise, aren’t we?”
He took another bite.
She reached into the bag and extracted three fries from her carton. A body needed a little treat before she unwrapped the burger. As soon as she first saw bun, she went for it.
“Jesus. Savage.” He stared at her over his burger.
“You do things your way, and I do them my way. Just because you happen to think this is English tea time…”
He snorted, taking another bite. “I never got fast food as a kid. Or dinners out. My mom always cooked. Not very well, either. My dad was actually a reasonable cook, but he maintained that it was a woman’s job. My mom accepted that.”
“Only the unpaid cooking seems to be a woman’s job to some guys. They don’t want to do it themselves, so they push it on their wife and say it’s women’s work,” Charity said, rolling her eyes. “Given that the top chefs of the world are largely men, they are mistaken. But then, if you can get a good wage for somet
hing, men generally assume control.” She paused. “No offense to your dad.”
“None taken. He was a good example of what not to grow up to be.”
“I had one of those, too. And I didn’t get fast food, either. We didn’t have the money to spend on a meal that runs right through you.”
Devon grimaced, the expression melting into a smile. “Gross.”
Charity laughed. “I cooked, mostly. Walt didn’t eat much, and my mom worked a lot. If you wanna eat, you gotta cook.”
“I should’ve learned, but now I just…hate it. I suck at it.”
Charity took a bite. “Marry a pretty girl that loves to wait on her man and you’re all set.”
Devon snorted but didn’t comment.
Lost to their own thoughts, they finished the rest of their meal in silence. After they finished, Devon led Charity down a long hall.
“Yours is here.” He motioned to the last door on the left. He dropped her duffel outside the door, already defining the space as hers, with the privacy to go along with it. It was reassuring. “I’m right across the hall in case…whatever. Boogeymen, I don’t know. I’ll show you the laundry room and whatnot tomorrow.”
“Great.” She picked up her duffel and walked into the room.
He watched her check it out. “Sheets are fresh. Well, they haven’t been slept in, anyway. Bathroom is clean.”
A sliding glass door led out to a patio draped in the black night. She peered into the enormous closet, which would probably fit a desk, and then noticed the door at the back of the room. “No way.” She pushed through it, and found herself in a bathroom bigger than her room back in Sam’s house. “I have my own bathroom?”
Devon grinned, sharing her delight. “I assume that’s okay?”
Beaming like a fool, she bobbed her head. “Sorry, but this is a first. Not having to get dressed to pee in the middle of the night will be a rare treat.”
His gaze drifted over her body. A spark of male hunger flashed in his eyes and was gone again so fast that she almost thought she’d imagined it. The next second, he wore his familiar scowl. “All right, get some sleep. Tomorrow night we’ll meet with the pack and hash out a plan.” He hesitated in the doorway, as if belatedly remembering that she wasn’t in his pack. “Are you going to work tomorrow? At the college?”
She bit her lip. “I haven’t decided. I don’t know that I want to get involved in all the stuff you have going on.”
His gaze bored into her. “Roger seems to think we need you. For that reason, I hope you’ll think about it. If you’re on the fence, I’m sure he’ll approve a trial period.”
“You don’t think you need me?”
“So far you’ve done nothing but cause havoc and get in the way. Call me jaded, but I doubt that’ll change.”
“Oh yay. Devon the Dick is back. And here I thought I was seeing a whole new you…”
He smirked, something he seemed to immediately regret based on how quickly he wrestled it off his lips. “Get some sleep. See you tomorrow. If you need me, I’m right across the hall.”
He closed her door with a soft click. His rotating moods were worse than PMS.
Charity chucked off her borrowed flip-flops and stared at the bed. She wanted to dive in, headfirst, and then sink into oblivion. But those groceries weren’t going to put themselves away, and she didn’t have the money to replace the perishable items.
Devon’s door was already closed. Absolute silence greeted her in the hallway. Stagnant silence, like when it was so quiet that a person’s ears made their own white noise.
Stepping lightly, trying not to disturb the deadened sound, she tiptoed down the hall. The darkness pressed on her. Dim moonlight filtered in through the windows, speckling the ground through the leaves outside. Shadows clawed toward her feet. Pools of night lurked in the corners and under furniture. Make-believe eyes watched as she passed.
Knowing this was all her imagination but unable to chase away the flashes of memory from the nightmare house, she hurried into the vast kitchen. She grabbed her paper bag of food, wincing at what seemed like a veritable shotgun blast of noise.
Ward or not, Charity couldn’t help but wonder—did the vampires know where she was? If Roger was right, she’d destroyed their plans. Were they out to get her?
She glanced up at the kitchen window, at the dark, gnarled branches dancing in the wind, laughing at her. The shades had all been left wide open. They, whoever they were, could watch her through the bare windows. Breath coming fast, she shoved the stuff that needed to be kept cool into a mostly empty fridge, tossed everything else on the counter, and hurried back down the hall.
She stepped into her room and closed the door. After lowering the shades on those windows, she stared at the large sliding glass door.
Who didn’t put curtains on a sliding glass door?
If they came in through that door, Devon would never reach her in time. Sure, she had her own defenses, but her strange magic might fail—she didn’t even know how to use it.
Trying to catch her breath and think rationally, she saw movement. A streak across the window. Claws scrabbling on the wood porch.
Sucking in a gasp, she practically dove out of her room and into the hall. That same watchful silence greeted her, the dappled shadows down the hall threatening to suck her in. Bare windows watching her progress.
Memories from the night before flashed through her mind like a strobe light.
Panic rising, she reached for Devon’s door like a child going to her parents’ room in a thunderstorm. The handle turned, thankfully not locked. She stepped in and shut the door behind her. Then locked it.
Magical creatures could open locks.
She fast-stepped toward the mound of man on one side of the king-sized bed. He was already sleeping soundly.
How can he sleep after what happened last night?
She hesitated. Now what?
But she knew what. As awkward as it was, she needed reassurance. She needed some sort of human comfort. Maybe a few words from him would do the trick. Hopefully, because she didn’t know what else to do.
When she lowered her hand onto his bare shoulder, he burst up. A blade came out of nowhere, glinting in the moonlight before it kissed her neck. Both of her wrists were pushed above her head and secured with one of his large hands. He pressed against her, pinning her to the wall. His eyes, nothing but pools of shadow, stared into her.
“What are you doing in here, Charity?” he asked in a low growl.
She stood paralyzed, captured by his much larger body. Trapped by his strength and power. She started to quiver.
“I w-was af-fraid,” she stammered, her wrists aching in his grip.
He leaned in close, so close they were breathing the same air. The heat from his body shocked into her, along with the manly perfume of his skin. A moment later, he stepped away, pulling back the blade. It was only then that she realized he wore not a stitch.
“Nightmare?” he asked nonchalantly. It was almost as if he a) wasn’t standing nude in front of her, and b) hadn’t just trapped her with a knife to her throat.
She didn’t have long to think about it. Flashes of sickly green skin, fangs, and claws flickered through her mind. She glanced at his door. In her mind, it all waited out there. In here, she had him. He knew what he was doing and could protect her.
“I… Sorry, I know this is weird, but…” She didn’t know how to phrase what she needed to say without sounding completely lame.
Can I sleep at the foot of your bed like a dog because I’m afraid of being alone for the first time in my entire life?
His soft sigh rustled her lashes. As if reading her mind, he bent and scooped her up into his arms. The next moment she was flying, landing on the other side of his bed in a tangle of limbs and hair.
He slipped between the sheets with his back to her and cuddled into his pillow. “Go to sleep. You’re safe here. I sleep soundly, so snore all you want, but don’t elbow me if I do. I hate t
hat.”
Another flashback of a monster reaching for her, claws outstretched, had her shimmying out of her borrowed sweats and hoodie and climbing into the bed beside him. She was only in a T-shirt and panties, but there was no way she was going back into her room without an armed escort. Not tonight, anyway.
Suddenly she wasn’t so confident in what she’d told Roger. Maybe she couldn’t move on from this so easily. Her life had changed in every possible way, and she was only now catching up.
Chapter Seventeen
“Hey!”
Charity felt a hard nudge, shaking the bed.
“Hey. Charity.”
She cracked a groggy eye open.
Devon stood at the side of the bed—his bed—with his rumpled hair and the scruff on his face accentuating his rugged good looks. It was the exact style he’d worn out the other night, except this one lacked all the polish and product. A bright halo surrounded him from the sunlight streaming in the large windows behind him.
The tightness in her chest from the night before loosened, releasing the tension in her shoulders.
Sunlight. Glorious sunlight.
She sighed. In the safety of the day, she should probably feel a little awkward about how she broke down last night and practically begged to sleep in Devon’s bed, like a child. As a rule, she didn’t open herself up to people, not even to John. When people knew your weaknesses, they could exploit you. Could wring you out and torment you. She’d seen it firsthand with how Walt had treated her mom. Charity had enough going on in her life without falling into that particular vat of slime.
But at the moment, she was too tired to care.
“What?” she mumbled, fatigue dragging her eyelids back down.
“It’s ten o’clock. Are you going to work?”
“Hmmmmmrrrrrrr.”
“I’m the wolf, not you. You sound stupid when you growl.”
“I don’t feel good.”
“Then call in sick. Are you always this helpless?”
She sat up in a grumpy rush, her hair swirling around her head like she’d been caught in a windstorm. “I barely slept last night.”
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