by Diana Seere
“It doesn’t matter.” Edward joined her on the bed, turning her toward him. “And it sure as bloody well hell won’t happen again,” he said with a growl, nibbling her earlobe.
She felt branded, possessed, loved. “I wish it had never happened at all.”
Edward’s grip tightened. “Did he force himself on—”
“No! No. It was just a quick fling. I didn’t realize what he was.”
“A mountain lion?”
“A dick.”
Edward laughed. “I’ve never understood Asher’s friendship with him. Unlike Asher, he’s never cared about anyone but himself. Brilliant, perhaps, but a cruel and selfish creature.”
She turned and rested her palm on his cheek. “So then why do you accept his judgment of you?” she asked softly.
Surprised eyes locked on hers. After a moment, he smiled wryly and dropped his gaze. “Because I blame myself more.”
“If he’d forgiven you, as any normal person would, you would’ve been able to forgive yourself sooner and not suffer alone for years and years, thinking her own flesh and blood hated you.”
“He does hate me.”
“But not for Vivien, I bet. He already hated you before she died. Am I right?”
He looked shocked. “How did you know that?”
“Lucky guess. He’s not the type of person to carry a grudge for somebody else’s sake. Only his own.”
“He is old friends with Asher, but he has always despised the rest of the Stanton family.” He hesitated. “Our natural lives are longer than human lives, Molly. Usually twice or three times as long. That leaves plenty of time for resentments to fester, for grudges to form and crystallize.”
Her mind reeled at the thought of living so many years. There was so much to absorb.
Edward went on. “Unlike the Nagys, we’ve grown wealthy over the centuries, whereas his family has sunk into debt and relative poverty. Two centuries ago, the Nagy’s collection of jewels and art were famous. Now they have nothing.” Edward pulled her down with him on the bed.
“I remember him working at LupiNex.”
“That was no doubt a lucrative position for him and had the advantage of appearing generous after Vivien’s death,” he said. “When Gavin sacked him, his hatred had another reason to fester.”
“I don’t think he needed a reason to be hateful,” she said. “It comes naturally to him.”
“Indeed.”
“Does anyone else in the Nagy family blame you for Vivien’s death?”
“They say they do not.”
“Do you believe them?”
He paused, holding his hand over his mouth to cover a yawn, then answered, “Yes.”
She let that sink in for a moment. It had been ten years. He’d punished himself long enough, and his relationship with her showed he’d moved on more than he was perhaps ready to admit, even to himself. It would take time and her friendship, patience, and love, but she knew he would continue to heal. This wouldn’t stop them from enjoying their lives together. She wouldn’t let it.
Her palm stung with sudden pain. She pulled it away from Edward’s shoulder and looked at it.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, beginning to tremble.
“What is it?” Edward clasped her wrist, frowning at her palm. “Did you hurt yourself?”
The scar that had previously left her palm unnaturally smooth was now creased like a normal hand, a line arcing around her thumb where it had never been before. “My scar is different.” She knew how ridiculous that sounded, but what else could she say?
He held her hand in his, frowning, but said nothing.
“It used to be smooth,” she said. He probably thought she was crazy.
“You have mysteries we’re only beginning to discover, my dear,” he said.
“I wonder if this has something to do with my blood.”
“Perhaps you can ask Dr. Sam.”
“I will,” she said. “Good idea.” Her jaw stretched open as she yawned, exhaustion hitting her.
“But not now. Now you’re going to sleep. And tonight we’ll go out and enjoy this city together because you enjoy it and I want to feel it through you, with you. We’ll hear music and dance and eat city food and then, my darling, I’m going to have you back in this bed and begin to make up for lost time.”
“Ten years.” She shook her head. It was insane. Talk about pressure. She hoped she’d lived up to his expectations.
“Imagine how much pent-up energy I have,” he said, eyelids heavy, smolder emanating through his look regardless.
She shivered in delight. “I can’t wait to find out how much.”
Startled, he jolted, the half-finished dream turning his covered skin into a chilled sheet of sweat and hair as Edward sat bolt upright in bed and panicked.
Dark. The room was dark. A silky nest of hair snored lightly next to him, warm and breathy.
Heart racing, he took in the dim room and cycled through memory with rapid thoughts.
Not his bedroom.
Not his cabin.
Not his scent.
Not his vibration.
He was in Boston. Molly was naked in bed with him. This was Gavin and Lilah’s guest suite.
Grounding himself, he took deep breaths, willing away the vestiges of that nightmare.
He could not help himself, plucking at the sheets, looking at his torso and arms.
All a dream. Shaking his head like an animal regrouping, he willed the images of Vivien’s cold, beautiful body out of his head.
A very live woman slept blissfully, deeply, next to him, the outer edge of his thigh pressed into her forearm. Squinting, he looked at the electronic clock across the room.
It was 10:11 p.m.
That could not be correct. Impossible. He and Molly had not slept the entire day away, had they?
“Mmmm,” she murmured, her face buried in a soft down pillow. Stomach sleeper, she was, her breasts smashed into the mattress, one leg pulled up, giving her a crooked look, like an acrobat in midair suddenly forced to rest in a two-dimensional space.
He reached for her bare back, fingertips halting half an inch above her skin. Her even breath made her body rise and fall, the grace of watching her do something so ordinary as breathe a joy in and of itself.
So normal. So casual. So intimate.
So boring.
Edward liked boring. His boring life in Montana suited him perfectly, fighting fires on call, roaming the land in animal form, living a life of the mind when he wished, of the body when he needed to express himself more viscerally.
A strand of Molly’s hair floated in front of her lips, red and a bit raw from so much kissing. As she exhaled, the piece of hair flew up, then back.
His eyes roamed over her body, noting the delicious swell of her breast, the folds of the soft sheets, one beautiful, curved ass cheek bare to the world, the other covered. Her skin was creamy, with freckles here and there on her arms. In sleep, her face was sweet and young. He wished he’d met her ten years ago, before Vivien, before life had scarred him, wounding him so deeply he’d come out of it half alive.
She awakened the rest of him.
Ignoring his phone, he walked into Gavin’s kitchen, throwing on a robe at the last minute, just in case. Derry had told him about walking in on Gavin and Lilah in the middle of kitchen sex. Edward had no desire to find someone else in the throes of lovemaking.
Even worse? Being walked in on with Molly.
Stretching, he reached up on tiptoes, his torso pulling his back like bone taffy, the city lights spread out in an impressive panoramic display. He hadn’t been to Gavin’s penthouse for ten years, and he’d redecorated in the decade since. Of course he had. Ten years was a long time.
Yet it felt like nothing.
As he awoke fully, the reality of his and Molly’s situation seeped back in. The Gathering. The stolen serum. Molly’s special blood. Add her confessions from earlier in the day—she was part shifter? And Lilah and Je
ss were her sisters?—and Edward was grateful for these few minutes of alone time to process.
The danger level for Molly was no less now. Manny and other security guards stationed discreetly about Gavin’s building provided a shield, but it was not enough. Edward could not let her out of his sight.
By choosing her as his priority, he was out of the loop with shifter-world decisions. Asher and Gavin were likely fighting tooth and nail—hopefully not literally—over the best approach, while a power battle raged on, fed by the ever-angry Tomas.
He needed to go to the Novo Club.
His role was more important than ever before.
Reluctantly he let himself remember that the entire shifter gathering now convened in the bowels of his brother’s building, the Novo Club teeming with shifters, the issue of the stolen shifter drug still in need of action and a resolution.
But who could dwell on that when a naked Molly was so close?
“Edward?” Molly’s sleepy voice cut through the night, his breath pushing out of him like it was tired of his constant memories. When could he let go? Holding on to Vivien’s memory and beating himself up for not being there had been a constant in his life.
Letting it go—letting her go—felt like a betrayal.
And yet, as Molly’s gorgeous, nude body approached him from behind, her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows making him smile, he wondered:
Was he betraying himself by not releasing his guilt over Vivien? How much of himself must he sacrifice before declaring the suffering enough?
“Hey,” Molly whispered, her arms around his waist, palm flat against his navel. Her stomach gurgled.
“That is quite an impressive hello,” he deadpanned.
She squeezed hard, her hand inching lower through his thickening thatch of hair. “You’ve got something pretty impressive here, too.”
His stomach growled in response.
“We need to go to dinner,” she declared with a yawn.
“I think it’s too late,” he replied, whirling around and swooping in for a kiss.
“What time is it?” She squinted at the stove clock, her eyes flying wide open. “We slept that long? Oh, my God. Eva’s going to kill me. Where’s my phone?”
“What does Eva have to do with anything?”
Her breath was hot against his chest as she played with the light smattering of hair there. His cock hardened, ready for her.
“Eva’s my boss,” Molly answered.
His mind emptied as she rubbed against him.
“And…?”
“I have a job. You know. To pay my rent so I have a place to live.”
He frowned, then opened his mouth, a small breath of recognition hitting him.
“You mean money.”
“I mean survival.” She gave him a patronizing laugh. “Some of us have to work to pay bills, you know. I’ve been supporting myself since I lied about my age when I was fourteen and got a crappy fast-food job.”
A different kind of protectiveness filled his veins, this sense less about danger and more about wanting to erase all her bad experiences, fill in the gaps that created insecurity, and give her peace.
“You do not have to worry about money any longer,” he declared, kissing the top of her head as their naked bodies pressed together. “Or anything else. I’ll take care of it.”
Her lips sputtered against his breastbone. “You’ll what?”
“Molly.” He lowered his voice. “Please. I’ve been raised never to boast or brag about it, but my trust fund is substantial. And I have a few investments of my own. When you move into my home with me in Montana, you’ll be taken care of.”
She stiffened.
“Taken care of,” she said slowly.
Ah. Good. Finally she was beginning to understand.
“Yes. I’m not sure how this works, but I can make certain that the Stanton trust financial manager adds a line item for you from my share. You’ll have whatever you need.” He shrugged, smiling into her hair. “And more.”
“What exactly are you saying, Edward?”
The air crackled with a strange combination of excitement and wariness. Excitement from him, wariness from her. Why would she be on guard? He sought to reassure her.
“I am saying that I love you, Molly. I’ve never been so drawn to someone. And you never have to struggle again. Ever. Not alone, not together. I will always take care of you.”
Her shoulders dropped, tension draining away as she tipped her chin up and looked at him.
“Oh God,” she gasped. “You’re serious!”
“Indeed.”
“You think I’m going to quit my job and move to Montana?” Her voice went high and breathy.
“Yes. Well, I assume you have friends here. We can visit them—you can visit them.” Pondering for a moment, he stroked his beard as she pulled away from him and began opening and closing kitchen drawers, ignoring him.
Her efforts became more forceful, the slam of drawers making him jolt.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for takeout menus. Everyone has a stack of them somewhere,” she muttered. “I can’t have this conversation on an empty stomach.”
He reached for his phone and texted.
Three texts later he asked her, “What kind of food do you want?” He had no idea what her favorites were, but it would only take being told once. Memorizing everything that gave her pleasure was his new life’s work.
“You have a restaurant you’re texting with?”
“Not quite, but close. Manny can deliver whatever you wish.”
Molly stared dumbly at his phone, lips parted with surprise. “Really? It’s that easy?”
“Easy?” He hadn’t thought of it that way. “It’s just… it just is.”
Laughter poured out of her as she blinked over and over, staring at his phone. “The rich really do live differently.”
“Why do people always say that? I’ve heard it before.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Would you prefer we do this the non-rich way? I do know how.” Years of volunteer firefighting out in rural Montana and Idaho had exposed him to people who lived normal lives, calling a phone number on a paper take-out menu and retrieving their own food.
“No way. Manny’s like having your own pizza guy on the payroll.”
“You like pizza? What kind?” He began texting.
“I didn’t say I want pizza.”
She confused him. His mouth watered and stomach growled.
“But apparently you do,” she said with a laugh. “So how about a large pizza, half with whatever you like, and my half will be pepperoni, feta cheese, pineapple—”
He grimaced at her. Surely she was joking.
“—and mayo.”
He gave her a gimlet look as she descended into giggles.
“Just the pepperoni, feta, and pineapple,” she conceded.
“You’re serious? That is quite a combination.” His stomach wasn’t sure what it thought.
“It’s delicious. Try it.”
Why not? He tapped out the order, and Manny’s simple but effective, single-letter response confirmed it.
k
“While we wait,” he said, pulling her close, “whatever shall we do?”
“Mmmm, play Scrabble?”
“How about strip poker?” he joked.
She looked down at their naked flesh. “I think we both already lost.”
“We definitely both won,” he whispered as his mouth took hers, hands flat against her spine, one palm sliding down to take a generous handful of her ass. She ground her hips into him, her body burning with heat, his cock at attention and in desperate need of more of her.
Now.
Breathless, she broke the kiss. “I really do need to go to work in the morning, you know.”
So close to arguing, he pulled back at the last second, realizing that he needed to respect her wishes. Later he would make sure she understood that this
was forever. Later he would make sure she knew how deeply wealthy he was. Later he would give her insight into a world they could create together.
Later.
Now, though, he needed to embed himself in her.
Lust rose up within, so close to the impulse to shift yet just different enough that the feeling channeled itself into a hot-blooded desire only she could quench. Sliding his forearms under her thighs as he bent low, hamstrings taut, he lifted her up onto the butcher’s block in the center of the kitchen.
She squealed.
Then he buried his face between her legs.
She made a decidedly different sound.
He was hungry, so hungry for her, and thirty minutes later, when Manny arrived with the pizza, he realized that hunger has many forms, not all of them soothed by calories.
Molly was his feast.
And pepperoni, feta cheese, and pineapple pizza turned out to be a pretty good dessert after all.
Chapter 24
Molly floated off the elevator onto the floor of the Platinum Club, her mind fully, pitifully preoccupied with Edward—his body, his scent, his voice, his love. She barely felt the polished hardwood floors beneath her hot-pink heels as she meandered down the hall to the offices she shared with Eva. She’d had to drop by her old boutique and borrow an outfit and shoes, decent makeup, scarf, earrings, hair gel. The pink shoes—cheerful, sexy, feminine—reflected her mood and brightened up the black pantsuit she wore above it.
The fact that Edward wouldn’t allow her to go to her own apartment for safety reasons was shoved firmly aside in her mind.
As she stepped into the office, reality shook her out of her dreamy thoughts of Edward. He and the rest of the Stantons had grudgingly agreed she would be safe in the Plat with Eva and the family security team nearby, and so here she was. But had she been stupid to insist on keeping her job? There had been much more paperwork and emails and phone calls and meetings than she liked, but it paid well and carried prestige her previous position as stylist-to-cocktail-waitresses did not.
But the truth was she wasn’t as happy here as she’d been working in her boutique. With Edward’s offer to support her in the back of her mind, how long would she be able to put her heart into her work?