Enthrall Me (Underbelly Chronicles Book 4)

by Tamara Hogan

  “Hey!” Tia picked it up just behind the head, gently cradling it in her hand. “The bad man didn’t mean it,” she crooned. “You startled him.”

  “He startled me first.”

  “And look at this. Someone stapled a note to the poor thing.” Her hand hovered over a small piece of white paper, about two inches square, attached to the snake at mid-body.

  “Don’t touch it,” he ordered. “It’s evidence.” Her disapproving glance made him feel like an axe murder. “And the staples might be curled under its skin,” he added. “We’ll bring it to a vet.”

  “Okay.” She peered at the piece of paper. “‘Bitch, why aren’t you doing your job?’” she read aloud. She shivered slightly, her first noticeable sign of unease since he’d arrived.

  “Tia? Wyland?” Lukas’s voice floated up from the lower level.

  “We’re in Tia’s bedroom,” Wyland called back.

  “You’re okay?”

  “Yes. I haven’t searched the house.”

  Tia turned toward him. “You actually called Lukas?”

  “Yes.” Steeling himself, he turned toward the closet door where he’d seen the wriggling tails disappear. “I’ll get you your sweats.” He’d have time to get Tia some clothes, and for her to dress, before anyone else saw so much pale, fragrant skin.

  “I’ll clear a path.” Before he could protest, she set the stapled snake on the bed, then started picking up snakes from the floor and putting them in the pillowcase. He followed the trail of vertebrae down to her tempting, curvy arse. Imagined stepping close to her, grabbing her by the hips, and nestling his cock against that…that…ridiculous smiley face, with its lascivious tongue, mocking his helpless reaction.

  Averting his eyes, he crossed to the closet and opened the door. Black clothing predominated, with the occasional flash of white or saturated color, and not a pastel in sight. Over on the left side was a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit holding folded jeans, T-shirts, workout clothes, and out-of-season sweaters near the top. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants in soft, black fleece, and reached down for what looked like a matching jacket—

  A sudden, sharp pain. He jerked his hand to his mouth, sucking away a drop of blood. “Little bastard.” Aiming a dirty look at the snake whose bed he’d disturbed, he snatched a zip-up jacket off the shelf, left the closet, and thrust the bundle at her. “Here.”

  She handed him the pillowcase, now bulging with the weight of the snakes she’d collected. “Thanks.”

  He froze. Surely he could hold this…writhing, jostling bag while she dressed.

  She was dressing. Clearing his throat, he turned his back.

  “Wyland, you’re a doctor. Surely I don’t have body parts you haven’t seen before.”

  “There’s a distinct difference between professional nudity and recreational nudity.” Was that tight-assed voice his?

  “You’d consider this situation recreational?”

  “You’re not my patient.” Thankfully not, because he hadn’t had such inappropriate thoughts about a patient in his life.

  More rustling. “Since you’re not my doctor… FYI, your ass looks amazing in those pants.”

  He ignored the spurt of masculine pride. He wasn’t her doctor, but he was her Second. Apparently that fact wasn’t enough to govern her tongue. “Are you dressed?”

  A zipper whooshed. “Yes.”

  Thank the universe.

  There were heavy footfalls on the stairs. “We’re at the end of the hall,” he called. When he turned toward Tia, she was reaching for another snake, wearing pants with the word “Juicy” emblazoned in a cursive arc across her buttocks.

  Twenty-first century fashion was going to be the death of him.

  Lukas and one of his senior lieutenants, Chico Perez, appeared at Tia’s bedroom door. “I’m glad you got here so quickly,” Lukas said, taking in the details of the room with an all-encompassing glance. He checked the bathroom and the closet. “Notice anything unusual? Other than the snakes?”

  “I didn’t check,” he admitted. “I came right up to Tia when I arrived.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “I picked the lock.” A wave of relief washed over him as Lukas took the writhing pillowcase. “Be careful,” he warned Lukas. “The little buggers bite.”

  “Were you bitten?” Tia passed the snake she’d just picked up to Lukas. “Let me see.”

  “I’m fine. It’s just a little nip.”

  She took his hand. When she found the little bleeder on his index finger, she popped it into her mouth. Her soft, muscular tongue lashed over the pinpricks, sealing them with her saliva.

  Chico cleared his throat. “I’ll collect the rest of the snakes.”

  “I’ll check in with Jack downstairs,” Lukas said. “Join us when you’re ready.”

  Tia abruptly released him, as if realizing what she’d done. “Chico, can you make sure you check the closet?”

  “Sure thing, sweetness.”

  Wyland’s eyebrow rose.

  Chico disappeared into the closet.

  “Let’s go downstairs,” he said to Tia. He watched her hips sway, her weight shift, as he followed her down the hallway. She eyeballed the cardboard box as they passed.

  Lukas was standing at the bottom of the stairway. “We’ll take the box to the lab.” He gave her a close look. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “I know garter snakes can’t hurt me, but waking up to one licking my armpit really gave me the wiggins.”

  Jack came in from the kitchen. “I found an open basement window in the back.”

  Tia swore. “I haven’t been in the basement since the day I moved in.”

  “There’s no damage that I can see.” Jack and Lukas exchanged a glance. “I think someone wanted to scare you. The only question is why.”

  Though their bodies weren’t touching, Wyland felt Tia’s deep breath as if it was his own. “Someone’s been following me,” she blurted out. “Since before I moved here.”

  “What?” This time, the teeth shoving down from his jaw had nothing to do with sexual attraction or jealousy. It was rage, blinding rage. His muscles twitched, tensing in readiness.

  “Someone’s been following me. Watching me,” she said. “It’s the reason I moved here.”

  “You’ve seen this person?” Lukas asked calmly. How the hell could he sound so calm?

  “No.” Tia rubbed her arms. “You know that funny feeling you get sometimes, where your body hair stands on end for no apparent reason? When something just feels…off?”

  “Yes.” That sense was ancient, primal, instinctive—and paying attention to it had saved his life on countless occasions. Tia had faerie blood in her lineage. With her empathic abilities, she’d notice something unusual in her surroundings earlier than most.

  “I’m glad you trusted your gut,” Lukas said, “but why haven’t you—”

  “Reported it to someone?” she said. “To you, or to Commander Lupinsky?”

  “Or to me?” he asked, as calmly as he could manage. Because he was absolutely furious.

  “I thought I’d drawn the attention of a neighborhood oddball,” she said with a shrug. “It happens. I thought it would stop when I moved.” She glanced at him, then upstairs. “But I guess not.”

  “This person—assuming it is the same person,” Lukas said, “not only followed you to another town, but broke into your house and tried to scare the shit out of you.” Lukas’s gaze flicked to him, then back to Tia. “I’d like you to stay somewhere else until we figure out what’s going on.”

  Finally, something he could do. “She can stay with me. With Valerian and me.”

  Lukas nodded. “I’m happier with the security at your place.”

  Tia was silent, then said, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

  Putting him out was pretty much a given, but…that was his problem, not hers. One of his own was in danger, and it was his duty to offer safe refuge. �
�We’d be honored to have you as a guest.”

  Humor, and something hotter, danced in her eyes. “Okay, roomie. I’ll pack a bag.”

  Was she laughing at him? At herself? At this situation, which had suddenly gotten completely out of hand?

  They all watched as Tia trotted up the stairs. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” he murmured.

  “I don’t know,” Lukas said with a smile, “but if I were you, I’d strap in tight and enjoy the ride.”

  Chapter Six

  Several hours later, having abandoned all responsibility for settling Tia into their home to Thane, Wyland walked into the formal dining room. The space was dimly lit, with the chandelier tossing small, radiant prisms against the silver metallic Art Deco wallpaper. The windows were open, and the night breeze, lush with the scent of Thane’s rose garden, gently ruffled the sheers.

  Linen napkins, lead crystal, fine china, Georgian silver…

  Damn it, Thane.

  Not only had Thane put Tia in the bedroom next to his instead of in one of the perfectly lovely third-floor guest rooms, Thane had informed him that tonight, they were having their midnight meal in the dining room. “We have a guest,” Thane had said, as if Wyland was a simpleton completely unaware of even the most basic points of hospitality. He glanced to the swinging door leading to the kitchen. Given what had happened the last time he and Tia had shared a meal, it was probably best they relocate. After that incendiary, ill-advised kiss, he could barely walk through the kitchen without getting aroused.

  Thane shouldered through the door carrying a steaming bowl of green beans shimmering with butter. “There you are.” He set the bowl on the table next to a platter holding crisp iceberg lettuce, ripe red tomatoes, pickles, and sliced onions. “I thought I might have to drag you away from your desk.”

  Thane knew him too well—he had considered working through the meal—but as Thane had scolded him earlier, they did have a guest. “Why is the table only set for three?” Thane usually joined them for meals. Frankly, he’d counted on Thane carrying the bulk of the conversation if Valerian tired.

  “Tonight, I will serve.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but a duet of laughter suddenly danced into the room. Stepping into the open doorway between the dining room and living room, he watched Valerian and Tia slowly walk arm in arm down the stairs.

  Tia looked like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn in trim black pants, a crisp white blouse, and ballet flats, but Valerian, perhaps energized by the prospect of entertaining a guest, was resplendent in a garish purple 1940s-era zoot suit, complete with wide tie, suspenders, and decorative hanging chain. A ragged tricorn hat perched jauntily on his head, and he wore a pair of bright red Reeboks. Wyland barely blinked at the ensemble. The clothing in Valerian’s closets spanned centuries, and he mixed and matched with impunity.

  Tia canted her head toward Valerian and murmured something. Valerian tipped his head back and laughed.

  Then he wobbled.

  “Whoa.” She quickly clutched Valerian’s arm, steadying him. “Gravity surge.” She didn’t say anything else as she helped Valerian navigate the rest of the stairs.

  “Hello, Wyland,” Valerian greeted him.

  “Hello. Hello, Tia.” He managed to nod respectfully, all the while noticing the delicate veins exposed by her open-necked shirt and pulled-back hair. “Are you settling in?”

  “Yes, thanks.” She stood at the bottom of the stairs, supporting Valerian as he stepped down to the landing. “My room is beautiful, and that bathroom?” Her expression of ecstasy seared itself onto his retinas. “I could live in that soaking tub for days.”

  The subtle, humid scent of lilacs had wafted into his room earlier, so he suspected she’d already made use of it. “May I seat you?”

  “Please.” But she didn’t let go of Valerian’s elbow, leaving her walking between them. At her other side, Valerian looked strong and proud, like he was escorting her rather than the other way around. Tia hadn’t been in the house more than a couple of hours, but the new spring in Valerian’s step was unmistakable.

  They walked into the dining room. “Oh, how beautiful,” Tia breathed as she took in the table setting. Her glowing expression as they seated Valerian made him glad that Thane had made the effort.

  Thane entered from the kitchen carrying another platter.

  Of very rare hamburgers.

  “Miss Tia’s request,” Thane murmured.

  Of course it was. His mouth suddenly watered.

  “Wyland.” Thane tipped his head toward Tia, who stood by her chair—not waiting to be seated, but admiring the wallpaper. Before he could reach her, she slipped into her seat.

  Bemused, he took the seat across from her.

  The bemusement continued over the next hour, as they enjoyed what was essentially a picnic in the most formally decorated room in their home. As they ate loaded hamburgers and homemade French fries, conversation bounced from topic to topic. Valerian seemed delighted to talk about something other than Council business—had they really fallen into such a rut?—but Wyland had nothing to add to a conversation about the best television series finales in history. While Valerian made the case for M*A*S*H and Six Feet Under, Tia rhapsodized about The Sopranos and Breaking Bad.

  Bloodthirsty little thing.

  He took a sip of blood-mulled wine, watching her. She seemed fully recovered from her encounter with the snakes. Good for her, because he wasn’t sure he’d recovered from the fear-spiked drive to her house. His uncharacteristic jealousy. Finding her unharmed, but surrounded by snakes. Waiting for her to pack a bag, then feeling her headlights stare at him as she followed his car from her house to his. All in all, it had been a discombobulating experience. He still hadn’t quite regained his equilibrium.

  That had to be the reason he kept staring at her rosy, unpainted lips as they smiled, ate, drank, and formed words.

  Thane walked in with a beautiful raspberry cheesecake and coffee. As he served, Tia asked him to join them. “Could you fill me in on the household routine? I’d like to impact it as little as possible while I’m here.”

  One more small vampire wouldn’t cause a ripple in Thane’s management of the household, but it was polite of her to ask about their routine, or lack thereof. Between Valerian’s health issues, and him coming and going at all hours, there was no such thing as a typical day. While Thane and Tia talked, he watched Valerian enjoy his small slice of cheesecake. Half a hamburger, a dozen French fries, some green beans, and now dessert? He couldn’t remember the last time Val had eaten so much food in a single sitting.

  Across the table, Tia licked raspberry sauce off her fork with kittenish swipes of her tongue. Yes, her presence might help Valerian recover, but her effect on him was another matter entirely.

  Tia set down her fork. “How is security handled during the daylight hours, when everyone’s asleep?”

  “Nick Solberg manages security for us,” Thane answered.

  “I thought Nick worked for Sebastiani Security.”

  She knew Nick well enough to call him by his first name?

  “He does, and so do all the other guards.” Reaching for the sugar bowl, Thane transferred a precise teaspoon to his coffee cup, and quietly stirred. “Being we’re so remotely located, Lukas recommended that we have a full security team on site.”

  Tia nodded. “Makes sense. You’re a fair distance out of the city.”

  Thane set the spoon on the rim of the saucer with nary a clink. “Nick and his team work out of a set of offices in the west wing. I’ll tell him you’re our guest at today’s shift change. He’ll probably want to speak with you in person,” he added. “Don’t take it personally if he’s…taciturn.”

  She glanced at Wyland, amused. “I’m getting used to it.”

  “Indeed.” Thane cleared his throat diplomatically. “We also have a rather large household staff—kitchen, housekeeping, lawn and gardens—all vetted by Sebastiani Security.”

  Perhaps
in deference to Valerian, Thane hadn’t mentioned Valerian’s round-the-clock cadre of nurses and personal care attendants, whom they’d hired when Valerian became so ill with pneumonia last year. Even though Valerian seemed to be on the road to recovery, he and Thane had recently decided to keep them on as permanent staff. Knowing Valerian had dedicated care, and cheerful company, eased their minds immensely.

  “So, tell me about your career,” Thane said. “I understand you’re an investigative journalist?”

  Tia laughed. “Via a very roundabout route, yes.”

  Thane’s smile invited confidences. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

  “You can’t imagine.”

  Wyland listened as Tia told Thane some hair-raising stories about her early days as a music journalist, which, as far as he could tell, pretty much confirmed the ‘sex, drugs, and rock and roll’ stereotype. “I was on the road with an up-and-coming band, working on a story about how long it can take to become an overnight sensation—” she made air quotes with her fingers “—when I caught the stench of payola.” She glanced at Valerian. “That’s when—”

  “Someone pays to get a song played on the radio,” Valerian finished.

  She nodded. “Pay for play. It can influence song popularity, chart position, and ultimately sales. There’s a lot of money on the line. So, I followed the money. Rolling Stone published my exposé, it became a series, and suddenly I was writing investigative pieces instead of music reviews. Rolling Stone couldn’t publish them all, so I started In Like Quinn.”

  “Becoming your own publisher,” Thane said.

  “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  “An amazing thing.”

  She shrugged. “It’s just a website.”

  Just a website? Did she have any idea what a bloody marvel it was to convey one’s thoughts and ideas digitally, rather than laboring over pen and parchment by candlelight? To have one’s words travel through the ether at the touch of a button or a click of a mouse, instead of hoping your messenger hadn’t paid for the honor of delivering your words with his life?

  No. She didn’t. She’d never known a life without computers or air travel, much less electricity, antibiotics, or automobiles.