by S. E. Babin
Cyndi gave me a look of sympathy. “We all know it’s not like that.”
“No, we know it’s not like that. Everyone else is probably wondering why I bothered to show up at all.” I took a long swill of my beer and tried not to gag as it washed down. Grumpy really did have appalling taste in some things. I felt the people’s stares on me, some accusing, some sympathetic, but all questioning. “It was a mistake to come here.”
Belle grunted. “It would be an even bigger mistake to leave.” She gestured for the bartender, and when he came over she ordered martinis for her and Cyndi. She gave my beer a critical glance and added in another martini for me. “I don’t know what the hell that is,” she said, staring at the dark brown foamy liquid, “but you should throw it away right now.”
I pushed the beer away. “After we have a drink I think I want to go back up to my room.”
The person on the other side of me left and Cyndi gratefully slid into their seat. She plopped her purse on top of the bar. “Look,” she said in a stern voice, “coming back here was the absolute best thing you could have done. You’ve been hiding too long.” At my squawk of indignation, she held up a hand. “It’s true. You’ve become so immersed in your life here that you haven’t even thought much about what’s going on at home. It’s bad, Snow.” Her voice softened. “Really bad.”
And suddenly I realized what had been niggling at me this entire time. “You’ve bamboozled me!”
Cyndi blinked in surprise, and Belle shifted in her seat, an uncomfortable look on her face.
“Oh my God,” I said, slapping my palm to my forehead. “Did I even get a legitimate invite or did you two yahoos create it in Photoshop?” I shook my head in disbelief.
“The invite was real,” Belle finally said. “Giles wants you home.” I stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “But we want you home, too.”
My mouth opened. Then closed. “But we’ve built a life,” I said, hearing how whiny I sounded. “We all have successful businesses. A social life. No societal pressures. No bizarre bad guys. The only thing we have to look out for in Mystic Falls is a random purse snatcher. How is being home better than this?”
At that moment, the bartender came back up, his gaze lingering on Cyndi for too long. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks. “Miss Cyndi,” he said, “this one is on me.”
Cyndi smiled at him, dimples creasing her cheeks prettily. “Thanks, Mac! I owe you one.”
Mac? He shifted awkwardly in an endearing aw shucks gesture. “You don’t owe me anything. At all,” he said before shuffling over to the other side of the bar.
I snorted. “I don’t know how you do it.” But I noticed her staring at the awkward bartender longer than for casual interest. “Cyndi?”
“Mmm?” she said, blinking and turning her attention away from him.
“Who is that? Is he one of ours?” He didn’t look familiar to me.
She shrugged, her face closed off once she realized my interest. “His name is John. He’s one of us.” She plastered a smile on her face. “You couldn’t have just any normal tending bar when all of us are here, right?”
I gave her a long look, but she just continued to smile at me. “Right,” I said. Why were my friends being so cagey and weird when it came to men?
I downed my martini and stood, tired of all the games and the awkwardness. “I’m headed back up to the room. Maybe I’ll catch a nap before the mixer.”
Belle frowned. “Want us to come up?”
“No,” I said shortly, then sighed. “I just want some time alone, okay?”
Belle nodded. “Got it. We’ll be back up in an hour or so.”
I nodded at both of them, threw some cash on the bar and sped out of there as fast as I could.
I leaned my head back against the cool metal of the elevator wall and waited for the doors to close. I’d been here less than four hours and already I wanted to run out with my tail tucked between my legs. I stretched, feeling tight tension in my arms, neck and shoulders. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be a terrible idea after all.
“Just where I wanted you,” the voice said from right in front of me.
My eyes flew open and I tried to rush through the doors to get away, but before I could get around him, the doors shut with a loud swoosh.
I was trapped in the elevator with the Huntsman. Thank God I was armed. He stepped into my personal space, and again I cursed my diminutive height. I tilted my head. The look in his eyes was thoughtful…and hungry. I reached around him to push the button to my floor, but he stopped me, entwining his fingers within mine. He pushed the top floor button. Fifty floors. Fifty long floors before I could get away from him. I tried to slide my fingers out of his, but he tightened his grip and pulled me toward him with a jerk. I fell into his arms, the warmth of him surrounding me. The elevator left the first floor, and for the first several seconds we stared at each other.
Max reached over to the panel and pushed the Stop button. I swallowed, fear trickling down my spine in waves. He’d picked the perfect spot to kill me. But would he do it? He leaned his head toward me, lips perilously close to mine.
“I can smell your emotions, Snow.” He inhaled deeply and shuddered. “Fear, anguish, ridicule that you allowed yourself to be caught so easily. But there’s one in there that makes me feel something.” He leaned over to my ear, breathing heavily, making my knees weak. “Desire. You want me. I can feel it in the tempo of your heartbeat. Feel it in the heat of your body. I can smell it.”
He took the lobe of my ear between his teeth, nibbling softly. My knees buckled and he pulled me harder against him. “Don’t fight me,” he said once he’d stopped. “Just feel.” His arms slipped behind my neck and he closed the distance between us. His lips slid over mine, hot and urgent. I whimpered as I surrendered to his kiss, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be anywhere but here.
I was crushed into his body, my breasts smashed into his chest. I could feel his loud heavy heartbeat, pounding just as fast as mine. And it gave me courage. I met his kiss with years of hunger and felt the lower half of him respond in kind. He opened his mouth, his hot tongue swirling against my lips, and I moaned.
“Gods, Snow,” he muttered.
He picked me up, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist, and slammed me into the side of the elevator wall. Even as the breath left my chest in surprise, I didn’t care. I ran my hands through his thick hair, joining my mouth to his again. I’d waited years for this kiss, years for him to want me like this. Someone would have to come in and pry me off him now, cameras be damned.
His hands were everywhere, brushing up my shirt to touch the bare skin at my waist, his wide hands spanning the width of it, his thumbs brushing against the undersides of my breasts. I shuddered and pulled him even tighter against me.
Max stiffened, his grip loosening on me. I held on to his neck to keep from falling. “Max?” I whispered. He stepped away from me abruptly, not bothering to catch me. I slid to the floor, confused and hurt.
A groan of agony came from him as he slid to his knees. I crawled over to him, my hand outstretched to touch him. He put his hands over his ears, his face transfixed in a look of agony. Pain-filled green eyes stared at me, unfocused, and he uttered one word.
“Run.”
My heart pounded in panic. I was stuck on a stopped freaking elevator. I scrambled to my feet, hit the button, hammered my palm against the panel to light up as many floors as I could, and almost lost my balance as the elevator jerked into motion. I dug through my pocket and pulled my pepper spray out, frantically thinking how I could subdue him with it without subduing myself. Pepper spray in enclosed quarters—bad idea. My Sig was tucked into the waistband of my pants, but I couldn’t shoot him. Yet.
Max had just given me the best five minutes of making out I’d ever experienced. Shooting him right now wasn’t an option, especially since there was a chance we’d get to do it again soon. And, yes, that’s a horrible way to think, but my
dry spell couldn’t be counted, in days, months, weeks or years…it had officially moved into decade territory. Plus, I kind of liked him when he wasn’t being all murderous.
My gaze shifted to him briefly before going back to focus on the doors. He was still on his knees, panting in shallow breaths. I watched the elevator numbers decrease to the next floor and knew I’d be getting off in the next ten seconds. I fidgeted and stepped forward only to hear the telltale sound of a palm hitting the elevator panel. Max stood, leaning heavily against it.
And when I saw the look on his face, hot make out session or not, I slowly slid the Sig from the back waistband of my pants and rested the gun at my thigh. His eyes flared bright red as he watched me, like a lion hunts the gazelle.
“That won’t stop me,” he said casually, like we were passing acquaintances.
In response to that I depressed the decocker and pulled the hammer back on the gun. He smiled, a brilliant, blinding smile that brought tears to my eyes. If we were in another place, another time, and he smiled that way at me, there would be no hope for my heart. But this time, in an elevator stuck in between the 43 and 44th floors, that smile meant he knew he was probably going to win. There was no way out. I had two choices—use the pepper spray and incapacitate us both, or shoot him.
My heart pounded with fear and indecision. I didn’t want to shoot him. He took a step in my direction, then one more. I raised the gun at his chest level. “Don’t make me do this, Max.”
A flicker of indecision crossed his face. He blinked, the redness gone temporarily. His body shook with effort. “I cannot help it,” he said through clenched teeth.
I took the opportunity of his coherence to step around and behind him and slap my palm on the button again. He stood stock-still, allowing me to do so, and shuddered again. I had maybe seconds before Naomi’s influence took over again. So I did the only thing I could have done to ensure my safety. I raised my hand up as high as it could go and cold-cocked him in the back of the head with my gun.
Max fell like a stone, and I took a deep, shaky breath. That had been way too close.
I watched him for any movement and then leaned down closer to make sure he was breathing, although I knew it would probably take much more than a blow to the back of his head to take him down, especially when Naomi was amping up his natural power. His breath was shallow, but there.
“Good,” I muttered, tucking the gun back into my waistband, and straightened to await the opening of the elevator doors. When the glorious ding of the elevator finally came I exhaled with effort, stepped over Max’s body and almost ran right into Giles, our old family butler.
One silver eyebrow rose as he took in my disheveled state and the unconscious Huntsman at my feet. “Well,” he said dryly, “at least you didn’t shoot anyone this time.”
I heard the elevator doors close behind me as I gave Giles a shaky smile. “He started it,” I said. It was something I always said when I found myself in trouble with him. His good nature had saved me from some spankings when I was little, especially when Mother came around and would want to know why I was scratched and dirty. Usually it involved me getting into a scrape of some sort with a village boy, but nine times out of ten Giles would cluck his tongue and tell her I’d been playing in the barn again and fell or I was chasing chickens through the courtyard. Of course, I was always doing that, too, but I never managed to come home quite as dirty or disheveled as I did when I’d been beating up one of the villagers. If Mother didn’t believe him, she never let on. Instead, she’d give me one long, stern look, or if she was in a good mood, she’d wink and tell me to get cleaned up for spinning time. I always hated learning those princess lame crafts, but I always enjoyed spending the time with my mother.
My lower lip trembled, and Giles held out his arms. “Come here, sweetkin.”
I allowed myself to be wrapped in Giles’ strong arms, and inhaled his comfortable gingerbread scent. “He really did start it,” I mumbled against the soft cotton of his vest. He patted my back and chuckled.
“They always do, don’t they, Snow?” He squeezed me for good measure and set me away from him. Giles stared at me with a critical eye, taking in my worn jeans, soft blouse and pageboy haircut. He nodded once. “You’re just as beautiful as always. Although, you could do with some more hair, couldn’t you?”
I frowned at him and awkwardly patted my hair. “Hair is a weapon,” I said. “If it’s short, no one can grab hold of it and use it as a weapon.”
He gestured at me to walk with him. “Be that as it may, it also prevents you from finding a proper husband.”
My thoughts flicked back to Max. He was no proper husband, but he sure would be a fun distraction until someone proper came around. Giles cleared his throat, and I blushed at my train of thought.
“Did you hear me?” he asked, giving me a quizzical stare.
“Uh, no. What was that?” I gave him a bright smile and slapped an innocent expression on my face. “Sorry, preoccupied brain, and then that whole thing in the elevator wore me out a bit.”
He didn’t believe me. I could tell. “I asked if you brought a ball gown.”
I nodded. “Cinderella picked it out.”
His face brightened. “Ah, Cyndi. How does she fare?” He took my elbow and steered me down the hall.
“She fares well. She’s downstairs right now. I can bring her up later, if you wish. Belle is here, too.”
“Delightful!” He fumbled for his key, slid it into the lock and opened the door into a large suite.
“Damn, Giles. Moving on up, aren’t you?” I stepped in ahead of him and cased the room. Even though it was Giles, I still wasn’t feeling all that trusting today. Whoever put him up here must have spent a fortune. My footsteps stilled and I spun toward him. “Who are you working for these days?” I asked, hoping against all hope I was wrong.
The smell of lilacs greeted me, along with the voice I heard often in my nightmares. “Giles serves me now, darling Snow White. Aren’t you a sight to behold?”
My mouth dried out and terror seeped through my body. I schooled my features into a perfectly blank expression. Naomi stood, regal and proud, in the living room of the suite. Gone was her normal red ball gown evil queen attire. Today she’d settled for a red power suit and stiletto nude heels. I hated the fact that she was a redhead and could actually wear red. It was against the laws of nature…or at least the laws of the color wheel. Her hair streamed down her shoulders in long vibrant curls. She looked gorgeous.
And every bit as evil as I remembered. I glanced at Giles, who shifted uncomfortably. At my accusing stare, he met my gaze with no apology, just regret. I couldn’t be mad at him. Where else was he to go? My mother died, then my father, and, I, the only rightful heir was chased out of the realm. Giles had no choice but to stay. It was and was not my fault. But I couldn’t blame him. Life went on, with or without me.
Knowing Giles, though, working for her rankled him right down to the edges of the starchy white shirt he wore underneath that ever-present vest of his. I blanked my thoughts because I never knew what kind of tricks she had up her sleeve and pasted a polite smile on my face. “Hello, Naomi.”
She blinked. A small motion, but one that gave me immense satisfaction. Back home, Naomi insisted I call her Mother. Even though saying it made bile rise in my stomach, I acquiesced to her wishes to keep peace in the castle and to keep my father happy. When he died, and I tried to call her Naomi, it resulted in beatings. But I was no longer a scared child or a weak teenager. I was a full-grown woman and stronger than ever.
“Really, darling. Naomi? Since when did you get comfortable with being that familiar with me?”
I bared my teeth. “Since you had your henchman try to murder me. I say that puts us on a first name basis, don’t you?”
She came a little closer to me. “I am your mother. And mothers have to make hard choices to benefit all instead of just one.”
I scoffed. “What threat was I, Naomi?” I
drawled out her name with rancor.
“Do you really have to ask that question? You were the heir to the throne. To my kingdom. Getting rid of you was the only way to clear that path.” She studied a shellacked red nail. “But, unfortunately, my Huntsman failed.” She stared at me, secrets swirling in the vivid black depths of her eyes. “I underestimated the power a pretty face would have over him.”
I stilled, said nothing, hoping she would keep talking. Bad guys were always good about spilling their secrets when they thought they had a captive audience.
“But now,” she continued, “we’re here to finish what I started.”
I knew it. The Accords meant nothing to Naomi. She was willing to start war over one girl. Admittedly, one who had the potential to screw up her plans in a huge way, but still just a girl. “And the Accords?” I asked, already knowing her answer.
A brilliant smile split her face. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about the Accords, Snow. You and I will have our day.” She turned to Giles. “The Huntsman is due back from lunch. Can you fetch him?”
Giles’ face became a blank slate. I waited for a moment to see if he would betray me. We both knew the only lunch the Huntsman had was the dirt on the elevator floor when he face-planted into it. I fought to keep the smile off my face. “At once,” Giles said. “Is he in the hotel restaurant?”
Naomi gave him a dismissive nod, and Giles walked past me on his way out. Once his back was turned to her, he gave me a little wink and swept out the door. My lips twitched, but I was able to fight the grin that threatened to spread over my face. So, I could count on one dissenter in Naomi’s court.
It was just her and me in the room now. “Is there anything else you wanted?” I put my hands on my hips in a bored gesture, praying she couldn’t see the fluttering heartbeat I could feel pulsing in my throat. “If not, I’d like to leave. I mean, you have the entire rest of the week to throw idle threats at me.”
She laughed. “Rest assured. My threats are much more than idle.”