Mixed Feelings (Empathy in the PPNW Book 1)

by Olivia R. Burton

  “It doesn’t make me one, no,” he admitted, starting in on the other counters closer to the sink. “But it helped get me what I needed to become one.”

  “Ladies,” I stated, leaning a hip against the counter. After all the wine, I wasn’t quite answering his questions with, “I love you, man!” but my motor skills had definitely taken a hit. Mel finished cleaning the kitchen, draped the rag over a bar mounted to the inside of the bucket sink so it could dry, and then turned to face me. Planting the heels of his hands on the counter, he leaned back.

  “Lots of ladies,” he said.

  “And how many ladies have you slept with, uh...” I paused, realizing my brain had gone even fuzzier and I had no idea what day of the week it was. Giving up, I waved a hand. “Last week.”

  “Let’s see.” His eyes squinted a bit and I watched the fingers of his left hand twitch, as if he were counting in his head and didn’t realize his digits were helping. It was kind of adorable. Finally, he looked me in the eyes and said, matter-of-factly, “Twelve.”

  “Good god,” I exclaimed. “That’s—that can’t be right.”

  “It was a good week!”

  “So that’s not normal?”

  “No, that’s about normal. It was just a good week.”

  “Holy hell,” I said. “My god!” I couldn’t believe it. I knew he had no reason to lie but I still couldn’t believe it. That meant he slept with scores of women a month, which meant… “Have you not gone through the entire eligible population of Seattle yet?”

  “Well, I don’t just date women in this city, you know.” He seemed offended by the implication.

  “But still! How the hell do you even have time for that?”

  Tipping his head down to look at me through his lashes, he raised a brow and grinned devilishly. “How much time do you think each encounter takes, anyway?”

  Immediately I felt my cheeks go red. I hadn’t meant to imply what I’d practically made it my life’s work to question.

  “It’s not even the sex itself,” I spat, my tone petty as I tried to regain my cynicism about his technique. “How many women can you even seduce in a day?”

  “Like you said, women are shallow and I am…” He paused, but went with my word, putting emphasis on it. “Pretty.”

  “Is it a werewolf pheromone? Do you put off something that makes a woman’s undergarments run for the hills?”

  “Do I?”

  Frowning, I looked him up and down. All I ever felt around him was annoyance and aggravation. I couldn’t imagine just seeing him and going, “All right, let’s make with the humping.” But other women were probably less uptight than me. And also couldn’t feel how skin-crawlingly annoying it was to just be near him.

  Mel let me inspect him. After a moment, I lifted a hand, quirking a finger to beckon him. Giving his shoulders a loose roll as if preparing for a fight, he pushed away from the counter. I only noticed then that he was barefoot, too. I ignored the fact that, for some reason, I found it really sexy to see his feet peek out from under his pants, and I twisted my hand. When he got close, I put the flat of my palm out; he stopped just before his shirt touched my skin and looked down at me.

  “Don’t try anything funny,” I warned.

  I lifted onto my toes, giving his neck a light sniff. Tipping his mouth near my ear, he whispered in a tone that not even the straightest man would fail to find sexy, “If I try something, it won't be laughter that has you out of breath.”

  I grinned, staying put long enough that he wouldn’t see it. After a moment, I dropped flat to my feet again, circling him. He stayed perfectly still as I tried to see if I could detect some sort of sex-causing scent anywhere on his body. His neck, cheek, the backs of his shoulder blades—while all very nice to look at—didn’t seem to smell like anything except… Mel.

  “Hunh,” I grunted in confusion. I stared at the back of his neck for a moment, fought my somewhat drunken urge to run my hands through his hair, and moved back around to face him. He watched me, seeming pleased that he was worth my inspection. I reminded myself that without Merrin’s magic necklace, I wouldn’t have set foot in the house, let alone be considering his well-shaped body and how he used it to get a woman into bed.

  “You just smell like you. And kind of like pizza, but that might be the kitchen.”

  “You smell a little tipsy. And a little like lilac.” Pausing, he wrinkled his nose slightly, then added, “And rose.”

  I stared up at him, very aware that at any moment things could get biblical. While Mel didn’t move or physically indicate what he was feeling, I could see it in his eyes. If, in that moment, I chose to kiss him, or—as Chloe had suggested so many times—tried to climb him like a tree, he wouldn’t have been opposed to it. I stayed flat on my feet, inches away.

  “Well,” I drawled. “Your sense of smell is better than mine. I can’t smell your perfume.”

  Sensing that I’d broken the moment in two and tossed it out the window, Mel grinned. He stepped around me and headed toward the living room. I sighed out the tension that had built and caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall; it was telling me it was way later than I had realized.

  “Wow.”

  “Looking at my ass again?” Mel asked, moving to the music cabinet, jiggling the mouse around on its tray.

  “I didn’t realize how late it is. We should probably go. I hadn’t planned on being out this long.”

  “Stay here,” he said, and the music stopped. My heart started thudding suddenly, apparently desperate to make up for the silence that had once again gone and gotten itself stuffed with tension. I swallowed audibly.

  Mel and I made eye contact, watching each other across the empty room. After my eyeballs had been satisfactorily seared by the blue of his gaze, he continued, his tone dismissive. “It’s not worth it to drive you home this late.”

  I opened my mouth, intent on arguing, but no words came to mind. I wasn’t even sure why I wanted to pick a fight; was I angry that he wouldn’t take me home or that his wanting me to stay was based purely on laziness?

  Mel pressed on as if I wasn’t watching him slack-jawed and confused. “There are plenty of blankets if you’re cold, but the fire will burn for a few more hours. The heater—” he moved to a small panel on the wall near the hallway, “—is controlled here.”

  “That’s… okay.”

  “What?” he asked, catching my eye with another net weaved of invitation and lust. “Were you looking to share my bed?”

  “Not… usually.” What had I just said?

  “There you have it, then. I have to be up in a few hours and, since I’m guarding your body, so do you.”

  “Gotcha,” I said slowly. Mel walked directly toward me, diverted at the last second, and brushed his bare arm by mine as he locked the back door. Once he’d turned the lights off and the only illumination came from a small lamp next to the couch, he paused next to me. His arm was pressed against mine, both of us staring into the living room. I dropped my gaze to the floor, waiting to see what was about to happen.

  “You sure there’s nothing else I can… do for you?” He was giving me an opening, but I wasn’t convinced I should give him one back.

  “No.” I took a deep breath. “The wine will help me sleep and I’m sure I can find the blankets on my own.”

  “All righty.” Without another word, Mel disappeared around the wall; I was left alone in the living room, pondering my life decisions.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I woke with a massive headache and a sore knee.

  The combination of wine, a fireplace, a heated room, and too many blankets had shot my body temperature straight through the roof. Groaning, I lifted my face off the cushion, trying to figure out where I was and what I’d done the night before. I had vague, floating visions of pizza, and of getting very close to Mel.

  The room was bathed in gray winter light and I stared at the wall between the living room and the hallway, wondering if I’d made the walk of
shame from there to the couch at some point in the evening. Adjusting my leg, which was hanging off the wall-spanning couch from just above the knee, I did my best to sit up. My calf had gone mostly numb but my knee felt like Kathy Bates had been at it during the night.

  Steeling myself, I got to my feet and hobbled toward the hall. I used the walls for support when I rounded the corner and made my way toward Mel’s room. The door was ajar and I saw a light on inside. The end of the night crystallized in my brain.

  “Oh,” I grumbled, wondering if I was going to hate myself more for considering having sex with Mel, or for not going through with it.

  “Mel?” I asked just before I pushed the door open. He was stark naked, his arms up and back, fingers on the tie of Merrin’s necklace. Part of my brain started screaming a dramatic, slow-motion, “No!” while the rest was crowded around my eyeballs, taking in his physique and saying, “Oh yes.”

  “You’re up,” he said, unbothered by what should have been a very awkward situation.

  “So are you,” I mumbled, unable to keep my gaze in respectable places. Then, as he pulled the necklace off, I collapsed.

  ***

  Mel was naked, crouched like a marble statue of an Olympian over me. One knee was on the floor, the other pulled to his chest, blocking my view of most of his lower half. His face was smooth, dark bangs falling in a curtain to the end of his nose. The line of his shoulder was perfect, the muscles in his arms incredible as he moved to place his palm on my cheek.

  “Overwhelmed by my hotness, I see.”

  I frowned, or tried to. My face didn’t work and I couldn’t feel the rest of my body. I had no memories, but my emotions were like bouncy house full of sugar-rushed children. Aggression, lust, frustration, affection, glee, lust (again and again) all slammed into the walls of my psyche as I stared up at Mel, trying to figure out what was happening.

  I saw my hand come up, my fingers press against his shoulder. When Mel raised his eyebrows and asked again if I was all right, I clenched my fingers, scratching my nails across his skin. He glanced at my hand before looking back at my face with an eager smile.

  The sugar rush wore off, the children tired, and the bouncy house deflated. My mind started to clear of the emotions that Mel had flooded out over me. I still didn’t have any real idea of what was happening, but I could at least feel my own body and not just what had poured out of Mel like Gatorade when the necklace had come off.

  “Did we have sex?” I asked. He blinked, pulled his hand in, and rested his elbow on his knee. He cocked his head and smirked at me.

  “Do you feel satisfied in every possible way?”

  “I feel sick,” I said.

  Mel shrugged and shifted, grabbing my shoulders with both hands. “I have a feeling that, for you, that doesn’t rule anything out.”

  Then I was airborne in a drunken, spinning world. Mel placed me firmly on my feet but the spinning didn’t stop. My head swiveled one way, my eyeballs the other, while the earth chose a completely different axis and took a nosedive.

  “Ah,” he murmured, before blurring away from me in one of the few displays of his werewolf speed that I’d seen. A metal bin was pressed against my chest as a hand slipped gently into my hair, tucking it out of the way and guiding my head down.

  My body heaved and everything except the kitchen sink flew like a wrecking ball upward through my chest. When I finally stopped throwing up, I could barely stand. The bucket vanished and Mel wrapped an arm around my waist. Somehow, he managed to move me into the steamy bathroom and lean me over the sink. I coughed, spat, and pressed my hands to the warm counter.

  Once he was sure I was stable enough to stand, Mel slipped out of the bathroom. I breathed in the steam, willing my mind to clear. The shower was running and I lifted my head to look at my reflection in the mirror. The steam made me a ghost and I glanced over at the shower stall. Without thinking about it, I pulled my shirt over my head, unhooked my bra, stripped down, and stepped in.

  I lost track of how long I stood in the shower with my head bowed under the scalding water, but I jumped when I heard Mel’s voice from outside the bathroom.

  “I would join you, but you probably taste like vomit.”

  My mind had cleared enough for me to be mortified at being naked in Mel’s home. I peered through the opening in the walls of the rounded stall and caught him leaning against the doorframe, still nude. Even in the steamy bathroom, I could feel my cheeks go hot with a mix of embarrassment and appreciation at the sight of him.

  “Go away,” I ordered.

  He sighed, but I could tell it was for effect. “Oh sure, use all my hot water and don’t even thank me.”

  “I’ll thank you with a knee to the balls.”

  “How about something else to the balls?”

  “Go!” I insisted, fighting off a smile and hoping it couldn’t be heard in my voice.

  ***

  By the time I got out to the kitchen, Mel had managed to start cooking what smelled to be the most delicious breakfast on the planet. His shirtless body was half-obscured by the island and I wondered if he was still naked. As I moved closer, I tried my best to peer over and check, while also doing my best to avoid seeing anything indecent should he be nude.

  Relieved when I saw jogging pants resting halfway down his hips, I sighed and eased the rest of the way up to the island. Mel bobbed his head to the quiet music and then turned to face me, a seriously heavy-duty cast-iron skillet in his hand. He flipped an omelet impressively into the air, caught it on the other side, and then turned back to set the pan on the stove.

  “You need filling up,” he said, turning to catch my eye and let me know he meant it however I wanted to take it. When I just stood there, at a loss for a response, he continued. “So, I’m making breakfast.”

  “That doesn’t look like much,” I said, trying to play it cool. I was still reeling from the night, confused at how things had changed so much in such a short time. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have been horrified at the idea of having to see Mel naked. Now I was fighting off the desire to do it again. “Do I have to split it with you?”

  He shook his head, wiggling his hips as a particularly energetic drum solo filled the air.

  “I already ate; this is all for you.”

  “Thanks,” I said when he set down an egg version of what Chloe had made me the day before. He’d filled the carb and protein mix with fewer vegetables and added cheese, which eased my discomfort slightly.

  “My turn in the shower,” he announced as he hit the hallway. I glanced back briefly but the siren song of food pulled my attention and kept me from admiring his ass as he walked away.

  I mean, I’m not saying I would have done that or anything.

  ***

  “I’m not wearing this necklace forever,” Mel announced as we pulled into my neighborhood.

  “Why?” I tensed, panicked at the idea that he might rip it off right then and knock me out again. To my relief, he kept his hands on the wheel, braking to let an orange tabby streak across the road.

  “It doesn’t really go with any of my most successful ensembles.”

  “You only mention this because you’re never planning to stop by the office again, right?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said with a grin, pulling into my driveway.

  “Jackass,” I called after him as he climbed out of the car.

  We found Chloe inside on my couch, Sonny perched on her shoulder as she fiddled with her phone and ignored the fluffy morning news show on the TV. Instantly, I felt guilt rush in when I realized I’d forgotten completely about Sonny the night before.

  “I took care of your son,” Chloe said without looking up.

  “I’m home now, baby,” I said, tucking my finger against Sonny’s feet to entice him to come sit on my shoulder. He was happy to see me, even though I’d forgotten about him in a drunken haze the night before. Guilt over that sloshed around in my gut and I decided I wanted to run away. “I need
to change.”

  “You two get dirty last night?” Chloe called after me as I hit the hallway. I walked faster so I wouldn’t have to hear Mel’s response. Whether he told the truth or made up a grand story about an eight-hour sexual marathon, I knew I’d be equally ashamed.

  When I came back ten minutes later, changed and cleaned up, Mel had gone back outside.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He got a call, went out to take it. Dammit, Gwen, you didn’t even get lucky?” Chloe demanded.

  “How much did he tell you?”

  “From the look you’re giving me, I think not all of it. He said you just got really drunk and then busted in to catch him naked the next morning. Anything happen after that?”

  “No. I didn’t—I wouldn’t sleep with Mel. He made some good pizza, we had some excellent wine, but I slept on the couch and woke up with a crick in my neck. Stop looking at me like that.”

  “You’re hopeless,” Chloe said with a shake of her head. Before I could retort, the door opened and we both looked over. Saved by the Mel.

  “That was Mrs. Kraus, the mother of the first child taken. She’s decided the police aren’t doing enough and wants my help. I told her we’d meet her in an hour. That gives us a few hours before we have to get to Everett by three.”

  “Three-thirteen,” Chloe corrected. “Merrin said three-thirteen.”

  “Well, then, we’ll want to be there by two forty-five to make sure we have plenty of time to stake the place out.”

  “In Bellevue, Blondie didn’t show up until five-till. We probably don’t need to be there quite that early.” Mel leveled a look my way and I nodded. “Yeah, okay, right. Earlier is probably better.”

  “Where are you two meeting the parents?”

  “Their house. It’s up kind of by Northgate.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Chloe said.

  Mel shook his head. “Can’t really—”

  “I’ll stay in the car. That way you don’t have to swing by and pick me up after or anything. We can all just go straight up to Everett.”