“He just handed that thing right over,” Kendra said.
“Yeah, he kinda did. He trusts me with everything.”
Including that ridiculously vulnerable heart of his.
Chapter Fifteen
“She left with Kendra,” Steph said.
So, she hadn’t gone running back to Lothar after all. Nick smiled. “Thanks.”
“Yup.” Steph walked off, ponytail swinging behind her.
He sat at the counter next to Greg. Greg was wearing sneakers, jeans, and a black t-shirt with a pirate’s skull and crossbones on it.
“Not working today?” Nick said.
“I have the day off.”
Nick had lost track of what day it was. “Right.” He tugged on the collar of his turtleneck. It wasn’t his first choice, but until the vampire bite scarred into something he could easily excuse, he was stuck with it. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself without Danielle. He could mope around the diner and annoy Steph.
Or he could think up ways to kill vampires.
Danielle had refused to help him in that regard, but Lothar might. It would be convenient for Lothar if Nick got himself killed, so what did the yuppie have to lose? Nick debated. He didn’t really want to be around the man, but with Danielle out, it might be better. They might not clash antlers.
Too badly.
Greg shifted toward him. “Hey, about the Mustang?”
Poor Greg. He’d forgotten all about the car. “We can work on it today.”
“Awesome.”
“Just let me take care of something, then I’ll be back.” He headed for the door. “Promise.”
* * *
“You need to leave,” Lothar said. He must have been working on the cabin; he’d given up his usual attire and was in a nondescript gray t-shirt. The bite mark from Danielle on his neck was healing but still bruised. Damn, she’d done a number on him. Nick doubted werewolves ever went to doctors, so she must have stitched it for him too.
Nick ignored Lothar’s glare and stepped into the cabin. Broken windows had been replaced and the floor refinished. The cupboards had doors now. It looked a hundred times better than when Ethan Judson had owned it.
“Nice work,” Nick said.
Lothar stood there silently unimpressed with the compliment. “What is this you want?” he asked from between his teeth.
Right to the point. That was fine with him. “Tell me how to kill them.”
Dark brows lifted. “Why?”
“Because my family lives in that town, and I won’t sit back and do nothing.”
“You cannot shift, and are too weak as human.”
“Danielle said they won’t drink my blood because of her venom. If I had the right weapons, I could hunt them.”
Lothar said nothing. Nick figured he was trying hard not to kill him. Finally, he gestured to the table. “Sit,” he said.
Nick pulled out a chair. He picked up on a hint of Danielle’s scent and glanced toward a little room off the kitchen.
“Her room. Can you smell her?”
“Yes.”
“You might prove useful. Some Carriers are good only for genetic contribution.”
“Um, thanks.”
“It is venom that kills. Werewolves produce poison. When it penetrates vampire’s skin, becomes lethal.”
“Lethal to them.”
“To anything.”
“It didn’t kill me.”
“Because you already had antibodies from mother. Your body had only to remember how to make.”
“If I had some of this venom, I could kill one?”
“You would have to break skin. Is incredibly hard.”
Bullets coated in venom? Arrows?
“Armor piercing ammunition,” Nick said. “The things slice through Kevlar like butter. Would that penetrate their skin?”
“They might. If you aim for vulnerable area. Throat, for example.”
“And the venom?”
He peeled back his lips. “Leave that to me.”
Nick couldn’t not be grossed out by the thought of dipping bullets in Lothar’s drool, but whatever.
“I can get what I need,” Nick said. “It will take a few days. For now I’ll take my chances with a compound bow.” He nodded. “I’m in.”
“You will slow us down.”
“If you use me as bait, it will speed things up.”
“She will not be happy.”
“But you knew that the moment you sat down with me.”
“Taip,” Lothar growled.
“If I get myself killed, she’s all yours.”
“Always, she is mine.”
What was that supposed to mean? “Glad to know where we stand.”
“If you are to be of use, you must learn to control self. I could kill you now. I want to.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“For Danielle, I control myself.” Lothar sat back. Nick noticed a faded scar on the inside of his forearm. It had a suspiciously familiar shape to it.
Man, it sucked that the only person he could talk to about Danielle was her other boyfriend. But he’d been in stranger situations.
Actually, no, he hadn’t.
“So, teach me this control,” Nick said. “I have the feeling I’m going to need it if yours fails.”
Lothar showed his teeth, fangs now visible.
* * *
“What do you think?” Kendra asked.
“I haven’t decided yet.” Danielle looked at her reflection in a full-length mirror.
They’d gotten their hair done, and Kendra had talked her into highlighting hers with blonde streaks. It was okay, but she doubted she would do it again.
Now she stood in a dress shop before a gilded mirror, wearing a red sheath dress and four inch heels. She turned her foot and her ankle twisted.
“Not for me.” Danielle pulled off the shoes with a wince and set aside the offensive footwear.
“Probably just as well,” Kendra said. “Nick and Lothar would both have heart attacks. I just wanted to see you in them.”
“You try them on.” Danielle went back into the dressing room to change.
“No, I’ve no one to impress.”
Danielle didn’t like the sound of that. “You’re too young to think that way.”
“I can’t even think about anything right now.”
Duh, Danielle. If she could make it through the rest of the day without being an idiot, it would be a miracle. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t, please. The last thing I want is for you to have to worry about everything you say.”
I will anyway, she thought. Danielle managed to unzip the back of the dress by herself. She slipped out of it, then into her jeans and sweater, more comfortable in her own clothes.
“I wouldn’t mind going to a lingerie store,” she said, coming out of the dressing room. Smooth fabrics were her weakness.
“And why would you need to go there?” Kendra lifted her brows.
Danielle’s face warmed. “When I came out of Nick’s room this morning . . .”
“No need.” Kendra held up her hand.
“I’m a very slow mover.”
“I was only teasing. Now let’s go.”
They made their tour through the next shop, Danielle realizing she had no idea what a good price was. Vesper bought her things and shipped them to the states for her.
She took up a white satin cami and eyed the price tag. Shrugging, she hung it over her arm along with a pair of fuzzy pajama bottoms and a pink bra.
“Danielle,” Kendra said, holding up a black and red lace teddy. “You know, just in case.”
“I can’t.” Really couldn’t. Wearing that thing around Lothar would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull and yelling toro at the top of her lungs. She took it out of Kendra’s hand and hung it back up.
“Why not?” Kendra whispered. “No pressure. Just to have, you know, like a girl with black lace underwear and no boyfriend.”
Danielle shook her head. “Do girls do that?”
“Yes.” She paused. “I think they do.” Kendra took up the teddy. “Go try it on. If you hate it, then you hate it. No loss in that.”
What if she did hate it? Worse yet, what if she didn’t. Either way, wasn’t it better to know?
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try it on.”
“I’ll be right outside the door in case you need emotional support.”
Danielle didn’t think that would be necessary, but she nodded out of politeness. Taking it into the changing room, she closed herself in. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing the same jeans and v-neck sweater she’d had on that morning. She ran her fingertips over her neck, following the path that seemed to burn, even if just in her memory. She slipped her sleeve off one shoulder, looking at herself in the mirror. The bite mark was already fading. It hadn’t been that deep, just enough to look bad for Nick.
Naturally.
She ran her fingers over it. Lothar. He was a dark kind of sexy. Even though she was a werewolf, the undeveloped human female in her couldn’t help but to picture herself in an old black and white movie, waiting in her bedchamber wearing a negligee for the beast to come drag her off to his lair.
Oh, my . . .
Danielle pulled off her clothes and slipped into black and red lace. She spread her hair over her shoulders, steeled her nerves, and then looked into the mirror.
She’d never seen herself in anything designed for the purpose of mating. Running her hands over her waist, she turned to see the scoop of her bottom and the long line of her thighs, rounded calves, and finely boned feet.
Lastly, she looked at her hair and face. She didn’t wear makeup, didn’t paint her nails. Her magic kept her skin smooth. Her hair was a brown riot that she’d given up taming long ago. She had a scar on her upper right arm where the bone had been broken clean through in a fight with a wraith.
Danielle moved her hair aside and slipped one shoulder strap down. The same shoulder Lothar had paid homage to that morning. She slid her hand carefully over her skin, hearing her own pulse and noting the way her eyes were darkening to black.
Tears blurred her eyes as she felt the full weight of this mess with Lothar. “You can’t keep him,” she whispered. “He can’t take a mate. He’s not a Carrier. It’s illegal.”
She dropped her hand and looked away.
“Think of something else,” she whispered. “Anything. Paint and screwdrivers. The way Lothar handles a nail gun . . . No. Not that. That won’t help at all.”
She sat down on the little bench, her face in her hands, focusing on her breathing.
“Danielle?” Kendra said. She must have been standing right near the door as promised. “Are you okay? Was it too much? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you.”
Danielle lifted her face from her hands. She stood and checked herself in the mirror. It could have been worse. She looked stressed, but human.
“Just a moment.” She dressed quickly and took up the teddy, then opened the door.
Kendra lifted her brows expectantly.
“I’m fine,” Danielle said.
“You don’t look fine. You can talk to me, you know. I own a diner. Trust me, I hear everything.”
She was ready to flat out deny it all, but the sincerity in Kendra’s voice changed her mind. She would still have to lie. But not too much.
“I really do love him,” she said. “And I can’t do that. It’s just not allowed.”
“Lothar? Why not?”
“His family.”
“Then get the teddy and let his family rage. They have it coming.”
It would be far worse than that, but once again, Danielle had to hide part of the truth. Kendra worked the teddy free from Danielle’s stranglehold and added it to the pile on a chair outside the dressing room door.
“You really do look sick. Maybe we should feed you.”
She shook her head. “I need more than food. I need answers.”
As hard as it was for her perpetually virginal shyness, she would have to sit down and talk it over with Lothar. Because there was no way they could live like this.
* * *
Danielle got back to the cabin just after dark. She pushed the door closed behind her with her hip, then dropped her bags to the floor inside. It was chilly out there, but the cabin as usual was invitingly warm. Lothar must have done some painting because it stunk of chemicals. She heard him working on her bathroom. He emerged a moment later with a jaw of five o’clock shadow and mildly disobedient hair.
He lifted his brows at her bags. “Spend it all, Darling?”
“Very funny.” She handed him his credit card.
“Keep it.”
She shoved it at him until he took it, then put her hands behind her back.
He turned away, pocketing the card. “I like hair. You want coffee?”
“You noticed. And yes, please.”
“It is good you did not cut too short,” he said slowly, either because he hadn’t talked to anyone all day and his mouth was struggling with the English, or because he knew very well what it did to her insides.
Her bet was on the latter.
Danielle felt for a chair and sat before her knees gave way. It was that kind of day. It needed to be taken sitting down.
She watched him grind coffee beans with a hand grinder, his back to her. The scent wafted through the kitchen. She was hyperaware of the line of his shoulders, the muscles in his back, his trim hips.
Danielle rested her elbows on the table, her mouth dry. “I need to know something,” she managed.
“Taip.” He filled the kettle with water.
“What would we do next if, you know, we decided . . .” To mate. She still couldn’t say it out loud. Pathetic, Danielle.
“What is this?”
“Stop that. You know what I mean.”
He set the kettle on the wood stove, hesitated, then turned to face her. His eyes were already darkening to black.
Lothar crossed the room, leaning against the table next to her. “What do you need from me?” he said, managing somehow to calm himself.
“How much would you give me?” she asked. It was rhetorical, and he seemed to know that.
“Not rich enough?” He shook his head at the ceiling. “You will want all I have, Darling.”
“What if I wanted something more valuable than money?”
“More than money?”
Her smile widened at the incredulous look on his face. She sucked back a sob. “Your name, maybe?” she said before thinking it through. She wasn’t even sure where the idea had come from. Darn her Arrested Development.
His face went blank. Either she had caught him completely off guard, or he was thinking so hard he’d forgotten to respond. She tried to stand, to get away from him, but he stopped her, gently sitting her back down. She arched to see his face, studying the line of his jaw, his lips.
“Stupid, huh?” she said. “I guess maybe it’s because I don’t have one. Not anymore.” Howard was her alias, and her adoptive parents had rejected her, so the name she’d grown up with gave her no comfort either.
“Is not stupid. But my name is no better.”
“It’s yours. I don’t care who else shares it with you.” She shrugged. “As if we have a choice anyway.”
“I have given thought.”
Finally. She nodded. “Yes?”
“It is big world. They cannot be everywhere all time.”
“So we run? Hide somewhere? Antarctica or something?”
“Ne. I buy island in Caribbean. Just us.” He paused, smiling. “Yes, I would give you name.” He showed his incisors. “Or you will not respect me in morning.”
She shook her head. “But I can’t ask you to give up your whole life for me.” It was just too selfish.
“Ask me.”
Danielle stood and walked away. There wasn’t far to go in the tiny cabin. She stopped before the win
dow over the sink.
Lothar came up behind her. She watched his reflection in the glass as he brushed her hair off her shoulder. He bent and kissed her neck. Sliding one arm around her waist, he urged her back against his chest. His other hand found hers, enclosing her fingers in his.
She studied their shared reflection, his hand splayed across her stomach, pressing her into him. Heat simmered, building until it pulsed through her.
“Oh,” she sounded. “Is that normal?”
He laughed, working his way down one shoulder. His teeth grazed her but he was more careful this time and didn’t break the skin.
She tried to turn around, to face him, to bend him to her and kiss him until all obstacles between them burned to cinders.
He wouldn’t let her go.
“Lothar.” She pushed at his hands. “Prašau.”
“Wait.”
She turned her senses onto him, heard the blood rushing through his veins, felt the tension in his body; turned inward and felt her own need pulsing crimson. She closed her eyes and watched it burn behind her lids. Slowly, expanding outward, she merged the chemicals flowing through her body with his.
He let go suddenly, backing off.
Danielle opened her eyes. “What . . . What’s wrong?”
“What is this you do?”
“Do what?”
Brow furrowed, he watched her, mute.
“Lothar, do what?”
He reached out, touching her waist. Fingers closed around her and he pulled her against him. She sucked in a breath at the contact, sensed his body immediately responding to hers.
He let go and muttered something in Lithuanian. She couldn’t understand it.
“What? That’s not normal? Lothar . . .”
“Ne,” he snapped, turning from her.
She glared at his back, knowing he would pick up on the change in her scent, and that she was mad at him. He didn’t seem to care.
“I have to think about,” he said.
She growled at the ceiling. “You are still the most annoying man in the universe.”
He took a breath, then turned back to face her, cupping her cheek in his hand. “We hunt prey now. Run it off.”
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