Fearing he would leave, she ran back to him and shook her head. He dragged her to his chest and kissed her thoroughly, and then he vanished. He just disappeared in the middle of the hall.
“Get dressed,” I said. “You’re going to work.”
Katie refused to speak or even look at me during the cab ride back to the shop, so I started the conversation. She needed to know what he’d done to her, and I needed to know how in spite of my attempts to keep Constantine away from her for this very reason, he’d managed to circumvent those efforts.
“How did this happen, Katie?”
She kept her eyes on the window as she spoke. “I told you he stopped by the shop last week. He was looking for you.” Her face softened as she continued. “He has this hold on me. I can’t explain it, Alex. He does things to me.”
“I bet he does,” I muttered. “Do you even know what he is?”
She was looking at me now, staring at me as if I’d asked the most preposterous question she’d ever heard. “He’s a god, Alex.”
“He’s a lecherous, conniving, egotistical satyr. That’s what he is.”
“And I’m a weak, senseless dragon.”
“Katie, there’s something you need to know.” She needed to understand why she’d never get him out of her head.
Just a kiss. That’s all it takes, Greer and Leda had both warned.
Judging by the looks of her, and the fact that they’d been sequestered in that apartment for the better part of a week, I was pretty sure they’d done a lot more than kiss. God, if a kiss had that much power, fucking could make spaghetti out of her brains.
“I do know. He warned me.”
She told me everything about the night Constantine showed up at her apartment. “He was just standing there in front of my door. We went inside and stared at each for an hour without saying a word.”
Relaying the details seemed to surprise even her. “He caged me against the wall and said, ‘No going back, Katie. I’ll never let you go, and you’ll never want me to.’”
“And you didn’t think that was a red flag?”
She just shook her head. “Lock, stock, and barrel. He owns me, and I love it.”
I was distracted from the whole Constantine-Katie clusterfuck by thoughts of my alibi. I was also perplexed by the fact that Constantine had apparently been in two places at the same time. He was with me in the park at the same time he was supposedly shacked up with Katie. How the hell did he pull that one off?
“Has he been with you the entire time—since Wednesday?”
“Yes.”
He must have slipped away from her to meet me. Although I’d apparently been in the park for an entire day, I’d only seen Constantine for a total of thirty or forty minutes. That explained his rush to get out of there. It also explained his disheveled hair. And his smell. I knew there was something familiar about it—he had Katie splashed all over him.
I coached her on my story, and we agreed to back each other up. We’d corroborate each other’s lie and feel like shit about it. Apollo deserved better, but the truth wasn’t an option.
“Katie? Can I ask you a strange question?”
“Is there any other kind?” she snorted.
I was still missing an entire day. “Did you see me at all on Wednesday?”
TWENTY
Apollo took one look at Katie and told her she should have stayed home for one more day. She was sick, all right—lovesick. Constantine hadn’t just slept with her, he’d mind fucked her good and hard, and I planned to find out if he intended to rip her heart out, too.
We spent the remainder of the morning counting books. By noon, we’d finished the grueling weeklong task of recording every title in the stop. The only thing missing was a bottle of champagne to celebrate.
I vowed to never take inventory of anything ever again.
Constantine walked through the front door as I was about to head out and grab some lunch. I held my breath as he surveyed the room. He spotted me and nodded, but it wasn’t me he was looking for. His eyes continued around the room, stopping on Katie as she emerged from one of the aisles.
Her gasp was audible from across the room as she looked up and saw him standing near the door. In his hand was a shiny metal box with a bright pink handle. He made a beeline across the room and met her halfway. “You need to eat. Or you’ll die,” he said in his usual pert voice, handing her the box.
She took the lunch box with the Batgirl decals and gazed at it as if he’d just handed her a beautiful Birkin bag. She turned it sideways and balanced it on the palm of her left hand, opening the top with her right. Inside was a parchment-wrapped sandwich secured with a silver ribbon and a frilled cellophane toothpick speared through the center. Next to the sandwich was a shiny red apple, a package of raisins, and a single-serve box of Cheerios.
“Oh, Constantine.” Her eyes raised back to his as a demure smile crept across her face. “I’ll eat every bite. I promise.”
They gazed at each other without a word for some time, and then he glanced at his Cartier. “I must leave. I’m late for an appointment.”
Katie’s smile vanished. Then she put her thumb and pinkie to the side of her head and mouthed the words call me.
As he was leaving, Leda walked through the door. Her tan riding pants and perfectly tailored cream shirt conjured images of what Rita Hayworth might look like if she walked through that door, fresh off a country ride with Gene Kelly.
“Con,” she blurted, startled to see the man who once proclaimed his love for her, and swore that she was his one and only true mate. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Leda.” Constantine looked just as startled. I could see a slight expansion of his chest, similar to the reaction he’d elicited from Katie a few minutes earlier. His cheeks deflated as his nostrils flared slightly. And as he stiffened, he grew a couple of inches taller, betraying the impact that only Leda had on him.
“God, here we go,” I muttered. Leda was that old habit Constantine never could quite shake, and I cringed at the thought of him parading that weakness in front of the entire shop. If he embarrassed Katie, I’d rip his privates off.
“It’s good to see you, Leda.” He took her hand as if it were a delicate bird and raised it to his lips. He kissed her pale skin and winked discreetly at Katie, reassuring her that the kiss was merely cordial. “I would love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I’m late for an appointment.”
A second later, he was gone. I was shocked by his care and consideration. Constantine had once again surprised me.
Katie was smiling to herself when I looked back at her. She stared at the shiny black lunch box with its pink trim, and I knew that something much deeper had transpired between the two of them over the course of those days holed up in her tiny apartment.
“Well—” Leda had utter confusion stamped across her face. “Alex?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. Is everything okay? Is Greer okay?”
“Greer’s fine. I just thought I’d stop by and see where you worked and take you to lunch.”
Leda didn’t do lunch. She was a good friend, but my guess was that Greer sent her.
“I’d love to have lunch, but you’re going to have to tell me the real reason you’re here.”
It was a beautiful afternoon, and what I really wanted to do was grab a slice of pizza and sit outside. Leda, on the other hand, had different plans.
We turned down a side street that looked more residential than commercial and entered a small restaurant with no signage. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d pass right by without thinking twice about the green door leading into the small room with white linen tablecloths and vintage chandeliers.
As soon as we entered, the smell of fine food hit my nose, and the noise of Manhattan was replaced by the steady hum of civilized conversation and forks meeting china. There was no takeout here. The rushed diners trying to get back to their jobs seemed to have gone to a different restaurant. Here, you took your time and
enjoyed the experience, not just the food.
“Ms. Westbrook.” An older gentleman dressed in a starched white shirt and black pants greeted us as we entered the room.
Leda extended her hand. “William.” Her face lit up as he took it and kissed the back of her fingers. “I thought you retired.”
“Ah, there’s that R word again. I’m trying. Maybe at the end of the year.”
“Well, I’ll have to stop in over the holidays to say goodbye.” She glanced around the crowded room. “I’m afraid we don’t have a reservation.”
He smiled conservatively. “I think we can manage.”
Leda pointed to a table in the back corner of the room, positioned in a small nook behind a half wall. The kitchen door swung in and out about six feet to the left of it.
William’s brow furrowed as the smile left his face. “Back there? Are you sure?”
“It’ll be fine, really. We’d like the privacy.”
“As you wish,” he complied, reluctant to put a woman like Leda in a back corner next to the kitchen.
We followed William to the most undesirable table in the room and allowed him to seat us properly.
“Can I bring you and your guest something to drink?”
“A glass of red wine?” She looked to me for confirmation.
“Water with lemon for me, please.” Wine would make going back to work for the rest of the afternoon unbearable.
“I’ll send your waiter right over. It’s so good to see you again, Ms. Westbrook.”
In all the months I’d known Leda, I never bothered to ask her last name. Westbrook fit her. Had a proper ring to it. Smith or Jones would disappear against her vibrant personality, but Westbrook…that was a name that held its own.
“This is quite a place. I hope you’re paying,” I joked playfully. I was used to places with days of the week for names, or neon signs in the window—anything that didn’t require two types of forks to consume a meal.
“Stop that, Alex. You fit in just fine here.” She was doing that annoying mind reading thing that I hated.
I got right to it. “Look, I know Greer is going through one of his Alex-needs-a-babysitter phases, but—”
Her index finger went up to hush me. “First of all, Greer didn’t ask me to come.” She opened her napkin and spread it over her lap. “My God, Alex. What are you doing to that man? And what was Con doing at Shakespeare’s Den…or Shop…or whatever?”
“Well, apparently Constantine is sleeping with Katie.”
“Really?” she replied as she rearranged her fork and knife. “I didn’t think he cared for reptiles.”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Just feeling the sting of no longer being worshipped. I guess it had to happen eventually. At least it wasn’t for a waitress or some mundane debutante.” She flexed a forced smile. “A dragon. Now that’s competition.”
“Oh, come on, Leda. You never wanted him anyway.”
“True, but it’s nice to know you’re on someone’s mind.” She leaned into the table on folded arms. “Now, what’s going on with Greer?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you be a little less cryptic?”
Our waiter approached the table and handed us a pair of menus. “Good afternoon, ladies. My name is Peter and I’ll be serving you today.”
Peter was a tall brunette with blue eyes and a beautiful set of pouty lips. I imagined he wasn’t a career waiter but a fledgling actor or model supplementing his income while he waited for his big break.
He looked at me first, and then turned his chiseled jaw toward Leda who was looking at him like he was on the menu. His eyes heated as the moment turned into a long stretch of innuendo. It took the sound of my chair shifting to break up our awkward threesome.
Leda pulled her eyes from the young man and plucked the menu from my hand. She handed them both back to the distracted waiter and ordered two grilled salmon salads, exactly what I would have chosen.
“I think you just ruined him for the rest of the day,” I pointed out.
“Actually, I think I just made his day,” she countered. “We shall see.”
“A little young for you, isn’t he?”
Her head cocked slightly as she fired back. “That’s a bit of a double standard, don’t you think? What, he’s around your age? And I’m around Greer’s age?”
“Yes, but Greer and I aren’t doing…that.”
“Don’t you dare judge me, Alex. And don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
I threw my hands up in surrender. “You’re right. I apologize.”
“Speaking of Greer,” she steered the conversation back, “that man has been walking around all week like he’s been medicated. The man can’t remember his own name half the time. I’ve never seen him so distracted and subdued.”
Subdued was not a word I’d ever use to describe Greer, and he was the most focused person I’d ever met. But the look on her face confirmed her concern. Leda was the type who never worried. You could tell her she had two weeks to live, and I doubt you’d get more than a sly smile and some comment about living it up for the next fourteen days.
“He was fine when I left him last night.” Rhom had escorted me home the night before, showing up seconds after Daemon disappeared. When we got to the house, Greer was in the library and barely acknowledged us over the documents he was reviewing at his desk. He was already gone when I came down for breakfast.
“And nothing unusual happened this week between you two?”
That was a silly question. Unusual was the norm. She should have asked if anything normal happened this week. Now that would throw up some red flags.
She muttered something under her breath before reaching for her compact to apply more lipstick to her already perfectly painted lips. “There’s something you need to know,” she said as she examined her reflection in the small mirror.
Those words usually preceded something I didn’t want to know. Why is it that people always put the fear of God in you before delivering bad news, like the preamble will somehow make the news a little less bitter?
“God, now what?”
She snapped the compact shut and looked back at me. “There’s something you need to know about us. Well, about our men.”
By us, I assumed she meant her people—Greer’s people.
“What? That they’re alphas with control issues? I’m well aware of that, Leda.”
“This is serious, Alex.” She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “Now, I’d like you to keep an open mind and hear me out before going all panicky on me. Sometimes the boys get a little attached to their women.”
“And this is news?”
Anyone with eyes knew that Greer had a bad habit of smothering me like I was some breakable vase. Had I been a weaker person I wouldn’t have a job, or friends, or the freedom to come and go as I pleased. So yes, I was well aware of his attachment issues.
“Maybe attached isn’t the right word.” She thought about it for a minute and came up with a more fitting description. “They imprint,” she stated matter-of-factly. “For…ever. Well, in most cases.”
“Leda, why are we having this conversation?”
Peter returned with a basket of warm bread. He placed it in the middle of the table and gave Leda another one of those looks before retreating back through the kitchen door. I stuffed a piece into my dry mouth. Maybe if I chewed hard enough I could appease the sick feeling welling up from my gut.
“Because I know that look, Alex. I’ve seen it a thousand times, and it’s been walking around the club for the past few days.”
My chest hurt from the sharp pain stabbing me behind my ribcage, and I could hear what sounded like tiny feet crunching through snow as the blood raced back and forth in my ears. I reached for another piece of bread with a shaky hand, but I knew it would never make it into my mouth because I couldn’t even swallow the piece that was already in there.
“Alex? Are you
okay?”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Leda.”
“I’m saying that I think Greer has imprinted on you.”
Any normal woman would feel like she’d just won the lottery. Except for his controlling, stubborn demeanor, he was perfect. Gorgeous, rich, smart: what else could a girl possibly ask for? That’s the problem—I’m not a normal girl.
A few months ago I would have entertained the thought. But the closer I got to Greer, the more I realize I wasn’t his girl. We were in different leagues, and I preferred to stay where I wouldn’t have my heart ripped out.
“Did you hear what I said, Alex?”
I envisioned a duckling following a human who’d raised it from a hatchling. “People don’t imprint, Leda.”
“You’re right, Alex. People don’t.”
It was a stark reminder that I’d been straddling two worlds. Somehow I always thought I’d wake up one day and it would be over. I’d be in my own bed, back in my shitty mundane world, with an equally shitty job and nothing to look forward to. Never once did I think this fantasy was permanent, and I’d end up with my own happy ending.
“It’s different for us. We imprint sexually.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I squealed, bringing all eyes in the room to our table.
“Calm down, Alex. Take a breath and relax.” She took a breath of her own and continued to explain the preposterous. “Think of it as…mating.”
Oh, well, that made it much better. We’d gone from imprinting sexually to mating, all in the span of five minutes.
“There’s only one way for that to happen, Alex. Imprinting is triggered by copulation.” She looked at me with a modest smile as the clinical description left her mouth. “You know how much I hate sticking my nose in other people’s business, but in this case I have to ask. There’s just too much at stake, and I need to know where Greer’s head is at.”
I swallowed the lump of bread in my mouth and waited for the punchline.
“Don’t be shy, Alex. Every one of those boys will end up going through it at some point. If it isn’t reciprocated, they may even go through it more than once. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s as natural as breathing.”
The Blood Thief (The Fitheach Trilogy Book 2) Page 19