by Susan Bliler
Wanting to utter an apology, it never came out. Instead, like the dick he was, he growled, “And this is why we don’t shoot ourselves.”
Spine snapping straight, Cersi hurled back, “Well if you weren’t chasing me, I wouldn’t have had to shoot myself.”
His hands stilled, and he looked at her. “You’re crazy. You know that, right?” He was nodding, but Cersi was shaking her head.
“I’m a survivalist.” She jerked her chin toward her shoulder, “And it worked, didn’t it? I’m still here, right?”
A long snarl rattled its way up his throat, and he didn’t have the foresight to check it. Instead, he braced both hands on the counter on either side of her hips and growled, “Did it ever occur to you that I wasn’t going to harm you? Did it even flash through that pretty little head of yours for one second that I could be an ally and not an enemy?”
“An ally wouldn’t have wanted to meet on a dark pier.” She leaned forward. “An ally would have given me the information I needed over the phone. An ally would have helped,” she motioned toward her wounded shoulder, “not hurt.”
“N, n, n, n, no,” he was back to shaking his head. “You don’t get to blame this on me. You shot you!” He shoved back off the island and turned to walk away before whirling around and hurling and accusatory, “And me! You shot me too, let’s not forget that little gem.”
Cersi lifted a pad of gauze to her shoulder and pressed it onto her wound, but she was doing it all wrong, so Tyson crossed back to her and took over.
Eyes snapping haughtily, Cersi let him take over as she lifted her chin. “Well, you shouldn’t go around scaring people.”
His lips thinned into a grim line before he countered, “Well, you shouldn’t go around shooting people.”
Cersi’s tone was starting to rise again when she argued, “Well, you shouldn’t go around grabbing people.”
He stopped wrapping her shoulder with medical tape to frown down at her. “You were pointing a gun at me. Right. At me!”
“I thought you were a bad guy.”
He snorted and mumbled, “Maybe I am.”
Cersi was studying him though, and the look on her face said she didn’t buy it. Crazy little human. If she only knew what he was, she’d be running as fast and as hard as she could.
Blinking up at him, all emotion left her tone when she asked, “Where’s my sister?”
And here it was, the big question. Ahhh damn, how do I explain this?
“And why isn’t your wound hurting you?” She looked pointedly at his chest. “You lifted me onto this counter like I weighed less than nothing while it hurts me just to breathe. What the hell is going on?”
Fffffffuck!
Chapter 6
Cersi was having a hard time staying focused around Tyson. It was really pissing her off. She typically acted with laser focus, but for some reason, Tyson had her forgetting herself. Hell, she’d finally come around, showered, and placed an order for dinner before demanding information on Vesa. Shame had her fidgeting on the counter as her eyes narrowed on Tyson’s chest. No, she couldn’t be swayed from her task, but for some reason, she couldn’t silence her mind as it reeled with questions about why Tyson didn’t seem to be injured.
“Show me your wound.”
Instead of complying he stepped back and lifted a hand to settle it on his chest. “I…was wearing a vest. There’s nothing to show.”
He’s lying. She knew he was. She’d been pressed up tight against his body when he’d grabbed her, and it had been solid muscle, there had been no vest.
“Where’s my sister,” she gritted out pissed that she’d let this lying a-hole distract her.
“She’s with my people.”
Brows shooting up, she asked mockingly, “Your people?”
He backed up another step, and she saw it for what it was now. He retreated every time she brought up something he didn’t want to discuss.
Looking down at his feet, she sneered, “Running? You don’t seem like the type.”
Tyson held his ground, hands fisting at his sides as his eyes narrowed on her. “Ain’t running.”
“Yeah,” she sighed and looked around the room. “You are. And you’re lying to me, which means I need to go.”
He moved so fast that he blurred and Cersi only managed a gasp before he had an arm wrapped around her waist, and a hand collaring her throat. She tensed, prepared to fight, but with Tyson’s big body settled between her legs, she realized the hold on her throat was firm but gentle.
“You…,” his eyes searched hers. He licked his lips before he continued. “I can’t let you go.”
“I don’t know you.” She frowned, “And I can’t trust you.”
“I didn’t hurt you.”
Her eyes dipped to his full lips and then back up to his bright green eyes. “No. But you’re lying, and it’s the same thing.”
He shook his head once like he didn’t understand, so she lifted a hand and settled it on his chest.
“There was no vest. Was there?”
She swore she saw a flare of panic light his eyes before his brows speared down. She thought he’d stand by his lie, but instead, he did something that shocked her to her bones. He told the truth.
“No,” he answered. “There was no vest.”
“Why lie?”
“A vest is safer than the truth.”
She swallowed hard almost afraid to ask. “And what’s the truth?”
Tyson didn’t answer.
“Where’s my sister, Tyson?”
“She’s safe. She’s with my brother, Haddix. He’s taking care of her. He wouldn’t ever let anything happen to her.”
“Did you kidnap her?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Not me, not Haddix.”
“And why should I believe you?” she snapped. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you didn’t kidnap her and aren’t looking to do the same to me?”
“To what end?” he asked. “If I wanted you hurt, I’d do it. If I wanted you dead, I’d have left you to bleed out on the pier. If I wanted to rape you…” His eyes hardened, and his Adam’s apple dipped low in his throat as he swallowed, looking almost repulsed at the prospect. “I could have done that anytime. I didn’t. That ain’t me. I’m not your enemy, Cersi. My brother, he and Vesa…”
Her eyes narrowed. “He and Vesa what?”
“They’re…forming something together.”
“They’re together?”
“No, not yet, but that might change. Haddix wants it to change.”
“And what about my sister?” She angled her head suspiciously, “Is she interested in him?”
Tyson shrugged, “Dunno. I can’t even read the woman standing two feet in front of me, I sure as shit ain’t able to read a woman who’s thousands of miles away.”
His answer wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear, but it didn’t disturb her as much as it should either. Probably because Cersi knew that if Haddix looked anything like Tyson then yeah, Vesa would be interested. They had similar taste in men, and big, badass, alpha males were definitely their type.
Quietly studying him, she digested his words a minute before lowering her eyes to his chest and pressing, “Why’d you lie about the vest, Tyson. What are you hiding?”
He still refused to answer that question.
“Tell me,” she begged.
He leaned harder into her, pressing the denim of her jeans against her sex as he looked at her, really looked at her. She’d never felt as exposed as she did under Tyson’s scrutiny. She felt like he wasn’t seeing just her skin, she felt like he was seeing her. He lowered his head, and Cersi lifted her chin. Her pulse was racing, and with Tyson’s fingers still clamped around her throat, she knew he felt it. Head dipping lower, Tyson’s eyes stayed locked on hers even as she parted her lips, waiting.
A sudden knock at the door had Tyson releasing her so fast she fell forward and had to catch herself to keep from falling off the islan
d. In front of her, Tyson’s big body was blocking the view of the door. Shoulders hunched, hands balled into tight fists at his side, he looked ready for battle. She didn’t understand what was going on. Why would someone at the door evoke such a response?
“Room service,” a voice bellowed from the other side of the door.
Cersi relaxed a little, but it took Tyson a little longer. Stalking to the door, he peeked out the peephole. She swore she heard him sniffing at the door. Finally, he jerked the door open and grumbled something to the man on the other side before closing it and turning to face her.
“We’re eating down at the bar. Get your shoes.”
O-kay.
Cradling her arm, she hopped off the counter and wished she hadn’t. The action stole her breath.
Tyson was on her in a blink, his hands on her waist as he snarled, “Jesus, woman, ask for help when you need it.”
But he didn’t know. He had no way of knowing that she never asked for help, ever! Asking for help was admitting weakness. Asking for help let people believe that you owed them something. Asking for help was something she’d never do.
Pulling away from him, she scanned the room.
“Here.” Tyson crossed to the bed, bent, and stood holding her red high heels.
She walked to him, but instead of handing them to her, he set them on the bed and backed away like he was suddenly afraid to get too close, and for some idiotic reason that hurt.
Swallowing her wounded pride, Cersi snatched up her shoes and bent to shove her feet inside. “I need a minute,” she snapped and headed for the bathroom.
***
What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you fucking doing? Tyson wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or to Monster, but someone needed to explain why they’d nearly just kissed Cersi. And, yeah, that’s what almost just happened. Hell, he’d wanted it to happen, and it couldn’t for at least a thousand reasons, the least of which was the fact that she was his Alpha’s sister-in-law.
He was pacing the suite when Cersi came out of the bathroom. He thought she’d gone in there to get all make-upped…or whatever in the hell women called it, but she hadn’t. No, her hair was still natural and fuzzy like it had been, and her face was still void of make-up. Well, mostly. She had on that bright red lipstick that had his eyes focusing on her full lips. Lips he’d almost felt with his own.
“You ready?” He gave her his back and stalked to the door, jerking it open and waiting with eyes averted. He needed to get out of this room. He needed to go someplace public because if he spent any more time with Cersi alone right now bad things were going to happen.
With a deflated little sigh, she crossed the room and passed under his nose exiting the room without ever once looking at him.
Good. He closed the door behind them and tried to convince himself that her indifference was what he sought, but inside, Monster was glaring at him something fierce.
In the hall, Cersi hadn’t waited. She was halfway down the long corridor before she came to an abrupt stop over something shiny that had caught her attention.
In a few long strides, Tyson closed the distance between them. “What?”
Looking down she said, “A heads-up penny.” She lifted her eyes to his. “It’s supposed to be good luck.”
Tyson’s green eyes looked from her to the ground and then back up before he stepped on the penny and continued on down the hall. “I make my own luck, Badass. Come on.”
He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Cersi smirk as she cast the penny one last glance and followed Tyson down the carpeted hall.
They took the elevator down to the lobby and if Tyson thought being holed up in a spacious suite with Cersi was hard then being locked in a tiny ass box with her was absolute hell. The brown sugar and buttercream scent of her filled the small space. It conjured up images of being close to her earlier and the wistful look she wore as she’d tilted her head back and waited for his kiss. Sucking in a deep breath, he held it, but that didn’t help. Hell, it made things worse because Monster started thrashing around his middle, pissed they weren’t taking advantage of the close quarters.
Eyes jerking up to the digital numbers that pinged as the elevator car slowly descended, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was the slowest damn elevator on the planet. Lungs starved, stars started exploding in his vision.
“You alright?”
He didn’t look at Cersi as he nodded a little too enthusiastically.
Come on, come on! He wasn’t above knocking himself out in an attempt to keep Monster at bay.
Inside Monster was giving him a dead-eyed stare like he was some sort of fucking moron. And well…he was.
Mercifully, the doors whooshed open, and Tyson lunged out of the cramped space. Dragging in agonized lungs-full of air, he bent over. Hands planted on his knees, he could only look to the side and up when Cersi stopped next to him and whisper-yelled, “What is wrong with you? People are staring, weirdo.”
He looked up and yeah, a lobby full of people were looking at him like he was a dumb-shit.
Shoving up off his knees, he composed himself and gestured toward the fancy bar with a bright neon sign hanging over the door that read, ‘Vana’s’.
He caught the door for Cersi and followed her in. The place was ritzy, all dark painted walls, plush navy carpet, and gold accents. There was a lit candle on each of the dozen or so tables, but aside from the black tie-wearing guy behind the bar, the place was empty.
Gesturing for Cersi to take her pick of tables, his lips crooked up when she walked straight to the bar and settled on a leather-covered stool.
“Mr. BloodMoon,” the bartender greeted. “The usual?”
Cersi shot him a look. He hid a cringe as he nodded.
“And for your…”
“Wife,” Tyson answered simply. Reaching out, he hooked an arm carefully over Cersi’s shoulders and pulled her close. He felt her look up at him but kept right on staring at the bartender.
Fuck, this was a dangerous game he was playing. He kept pushing Cersi away and then pulling her back in, and it was confusing Monster, and a confused Monster wasn’t a good thing. Even now the animal was slamming around inside of him. Calling her his anything was a dumb idea. It was laying a claim, a claim he’d be hard pressed to get Monster to stand down from.
“Of course,” the bartender nodded. “And you, Mrs. BloodMoon, what can I get you?”
Tyson felt her tense and when he looked down at her, she looked unsettled but answered, “Tanqueray and cranberry juice, please.”
As soon as the bartender stepped away to make their drinks Cersi turned to Tyson and hissed, “You used your real name?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because you said you didn’t kidnap my sister. You said she was safe with your brother, and if that’s true then her kidnappers are still out there, right? And they’re probably highly pissed that their prize has been taken. Right? You and your brother should be laying low.”
“No one fucks with Tyson BloodMoon. I’m not hiding anything from anyone.”
“Then why use your real name then lie and tell the bartender that I’m your wife? If you’re not worried about being honest, then why lie about me?”
Why indeed.
Chapter 7
Cersi wanted to scream at the bored look on Tyson’s face. It was his cockiness though that nearly did her in.
With an indifferent lift of his shoulders, Tyson muttered, “I do what I want. I’m Tyson BloodMoon. No one fucks with me.”
Rolling her eyes, she let out a low hiss when the bartender returned with their drinks. She shot him a placating thank-you grin, and as soon as he stepped away, she sucked down half her drink and then turned her angry eyes back on Tyson.
“That’s fine, Tyson BloodMoon that no one fucks with you.” She did air quotes with her good hand around the word fucks and then felt her cheeks singe at how corny that was. Still, she kept right on. “But I’m not y
ou! And, I’ve been digging pretty damn deep and pushing really hard, and I can’t have you blowing my cover because you’re so damn egotistical that you think you’re safe just because you’re built like a brick shit house.”
Her little rant earned her a genuine smile from Tyson that nearly stole her breath. The guy was smoking hot when he was all dark and broody, but when he smiled…hooo, that was doing stuff to her nethers that she was positive shouldn’t be happening considering he preferred men.
“Brick shit house?” he smirked.
Waving her good hand up and down his frame she scowled, “You know what I mean.” She gave her attention back to her drink and sucked the rest of it down before waving for the bartender. She should probably stop drinking now considering she was already feeling all warm and fuzzy, but being under Tyson’s scrutiny had her needing some liquid courage.
The bartender brought her another drink and when he left Tyson turned serious. “No one’s hunting you, Badass, and even if they were,” he stalled long enough to take a long swig of his beer. “They’d have to go through me first.” Setting his bottle on the bar top he shot her a quick wink. “And that ain’t happening.”
“Because no one fucks with Tyson BloodMoon,” she drawled.
“Now you’re getting it.”
Their argument died when their food arrived. Large platters of delicate lobster meat steaming inside vibrant red shells had Cersi’s eyes rounding. At the mere sight of the food, her stomach growled loudly. She was starving from being out for two whole days so as soon as the waiter settled the plates on the bar top, she ripped the silverware out of the cloth napkin and forked a mound of steaming garlic flavored mashed potatoes into her mouth. Her cheeks billowed then hollowed as she rapidly sucked in and exhaled air to cool the bite in her mouth.
Beside her, Tyson chuckled and offered, “Maybe try the lobster first. It shouldn’t be too hot.”
Swallowing her bite, she took Tyson’s advice and speared a decent hunk of lobster meat before dipping it into the little carafe of butter that sat over a lit tea candle. The second the lobster meat hit her tongue, she closed her lips and eyes and moaned. It might have been because she was famished, but this was, hands down, the best meal she’d ever had in her entire life.