She walked over and opened the door only to find that it led to a large walk-in closet. A chuckle sounded behind her. She ignored it, instead focusing on the sudden pounding of blood behind her temples. The only other door had to be the bathroom, but she tried it anyway. Sure enough. It was luxuriously tiled with a huge soaking tub, freestanding glass shower with two showerheads, and a mile-long marble counter with two sinks and elegant faucets curved like a swan’s neck. She spun back around. Santiago stood in the center of the room, his hands on his hips. One thing was glaringly missing.
“Looking for something?”
She glanced around the room. “I… A…”
“If you need to use the facilities, I can assure you I won’t be able to hear a thing out here. All the rooms at the field office, even interior ones, are very private.” He chuckled as if he were remembering something.
“I assumed we’d have adjoining rooms or at the very least, a pullout bed.”
“You assumed wrong.” He brushed past her and stepped into the bathroom as casual as could be. She could hear the water in the shower turn on. He even started whistling.
This was just not acceptable. She hadn’t agreed to this. At all. “But what about—”
He popped his head out. At some point, he’d pulled off his shirt. Did he have any idea what the sight of him like this did to her? His well-muscled chest and abs were like candy under a glass case.
Beautiful. Tempting. Unreachable.
She tried not to stare at him, but she had a feeling she was doing a lousy job. Her eyes seemed to want to take him all in whether she wanted them to or not.
“Lovers would not use separate beds.” Even his voice sounded deeper, sexier than it had five minutes ago. “Maybe chaste religious types would, but I can assure you, I’m neither chaste nor religious.”
There was that warm feeling in her stomach again. She glanced at the bed and suddenly it didn’t look as big as it did when they first walked in. It was entirely too small. Postage-stamp small, if you asked her. “Then I’ll find a sleeping bag.”
He opened the bathroom door wider and she could see that the top button of his pants was unfastened. “You’ll do no such thing. That will tip off everyone if you go around asking for a sleeping bag to be brought to my room. No. You’re sleeping in my bed. With me. And that’s final.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
SANTIAGO STOPPED AT the first conference-room door and turned around when he realized Roxy wasn’t keeping up with him. She had stopped with one hand resting on the wall and the other hand on her chest. All the color had drained from her face and it looked as if she was having a hard time breathing. He rushed to her side and grabbed her elbow to steady her.
Jesus, was she going to pass out? “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She sounded out of breath.
“Don’t bullshit me. No, you’re not.”
Leaning heavily on his arm, she shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. Just give me a minute.” She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then pursed her lips and blew it out slowly. He watched her do it three more times.
Despite his better judgment, he found her impossibly attractive. In direct contrast to the storm brewing inside him, she had a peaceful calm about her that drew him in like a magnet. With her eyes closed like this, he could really study her face close up. Her skin was creamy smooth and her dark lashes lay against her cheeks like tiny brushes. For a moment, he forgot who they both were and wondered how her lips would feel against his. Would she be yielding or demanding? Would she be the type of lover who would wait for his lead or would she be the one in charge? In the time she’d been here, he’d seen instances where he could imagine both scenarios.
He wanted to stroke his thumbs along her cheekbones and pull her mouth to his just to see what she would do. To mess up this calming routine of hers. To see how she’d react to something completely out of the blue. But it would be purely an experiment and not because he felt any sort of attraction to her either. Hookups between vampires routinely occurred with no romantic intentions by either party. That was all this was.
It felt as if he were watching a demonstration on yoga breathing techniques before she finally opened her eyes. They were a little brighter but none of the color returned to her face.
“Better?”
“A little.” She didn’t sound very convincing.
“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m fine now. This…this happens to me sometimes.”
“What just happened? Tell me, Roxy.”
She glanced down the corridor both ways then lowered her voice. “I’m getting a really strange feeling that I can’t seem to shake. It’s kind of like a panic attack. It’s happened before. Sometimes it strikes without warning and for no reason, but at other times, there’s something going on.”
A pang of guilt jabbed him in the gut and he instantly regretted what he’d said about her earlier. His mouth had a habit of working before his brain did. “What do you mean something?”
“I’ve always been good at reading people and situations. When something is, well, off, it affects my—” she waved her hands around “—my space. Maybe it’s just the atmosphere down here. The air. I do tend to get claustrophobic.”
“Even though the field office is located in a secret part of Underground Seattle, fresh air from above is circulated regularly through air cleaners.”
“No, it’s not that.”
He was confused. She said it was the air and now it wasn’t?
“Something’s not right with the energy of this place. I can’t help feeling that something or someone is not who they say they are.”
“The field office isn’t known to any humans walking above us on the streets. Our very office is a deception.”
“That’s not it. The prana of this space, the vital energy, has been disrupted somehow, but I’m not gifted in that area so I can’t be for sure. I’m just feeling a disturbance, that’s all.”
It sounded far-fetched and if he hadn’t gotten to know Roxy lately, he’d still be thinking that. “How so? What does it feel like?”
“Here, take my hand.”
As soon as he did, he felt a strange jolt of energy. “What the—” He tried to pull away from her but she held him steady.
“It’s very unusual to connect to another person’s energy like I can with you, but let me push some of what I’m feeling to you and see if you can feel what I’m experiencing.”
The tingling in his hand and arm intensified. At first, it was a very pleasant sensation. He’d never shared energies with another vampire before. It wasn’t unheard of, sure, but it was highly unusual. But then, just as quickly, his gut began to churn and he seriously thought he might be getting sick.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on?”
She smiled, practically beaming. “You can really feel it?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, wow, that’s fantastic. I was hoping you would.”
“You wanted me to feel sick?” She must have a warped sense of humor. If he wasn’t mistaken, she looked very proud of herself.
“What is going on?”
“I’ve never done it before. You know, projected onto another person like this, but I had a feeling it might work with you.”
He didn’t know what she was talking about but he was tired of asking questions. A good leader asked questions, absorbed the information, then formulated a response. He didn’t want to admit that he had no idea what the hell she was talking about.
“I’ve extracted the negative energy from the atmosphere and I’m pushing it to you for you to experience, as well.”
“That’s insane,” he said with amazement.
For an instant, he thought she looked embarrassed but then, just as quickly, it was gone. “You gotta watch us tracker types. We’ve got a lot of tricks up our sleeves.”
He watched as she took a deep breat
h again and exhaled. All of a sudden the nausea was gone, as if she’d expelled it from him. What remained, however, was her warm, calming energy. When he told her this, her nostrils flared slightly and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Was she embarrassed about this for some reason?
“So what do you think is going on?”
She chewed on her lower lip a moment. “I’m not sure. I can’t even tell if the person is male or female. Or for that matter, vampire or human. But it’s strong enough that I wonder if it’s more than just my imagination.”
* * *
HOW MUCH MORE of an idiot could she be?
Why had she felt the need to open up to Santiago? What good did it do to have him know that she suffered from panic attacks sometimes? She preferred to keep personal stuff to herself as much as she could, especially stuff like this. She didn’t like to be vulnerable and show her soft underbelly to anyone.
“Is there a main area where everyone here hangs out?” she asked in an effort to forget what had just happened.
“Yeah, the kitchen. Xian, the office manager who is also the cook, makes homemade pastries every Friday. His family used to own a bakery so anything he makes is crazy good. Anyone who’s around will be there waiting for samples.”
Now that he mentioned it, she did smell something delicious. “Sounds like he does a little of everything around here. Is he a Guardian, too?”
“No, he’s human.”
As they walked, he had his arm draped casually around her in order to convey to everyone that they were a couple. Trouble was, it felt so authentic. The way he absently rubbed his thumb along the top of her shoulder blade. How he shortened his long stride to match hers. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but it was as if her little bout back there made him act more concerned. Even a little protective. Maybe it was the energy sharing that had changed things between them.
Well, she didn’t need or want his protection, she thought, stiffening. She was capable of looking out for herself. Despite that, a ball of warmth formed in the center of her body again, making not only her cheeks heat up but her fingers tingle, as well.
God, how she missed companionship like this. Nothing sexual, just the routine habits you had with someone you cared about. She could really get used to this again. Not that she hadn’t been with anyone since Ian had passed away, but she had never let them get very close, holding them out at arm’s length, afraid to let them in too much. But since she was forced to let Santiago into her little circle because of their sham, it was like a part of her thought it was real. The whole “smile and you’ll soon be happy” philosophy. Act like you want to be treated. The power of positive thinking.
Crap. Her inner thoughts were starting to sound like one of Santiago’s motivational talks he gave his people.
But it wasn’t real. Not the concern in his eyes, the protective way he hooked his arm around her shoulder, and not the domineering attitude he had with her back in his bedchambers. Well, that part was real, but it was all based on a lie. A well-crafted one they had to construct. But as much as she hated to admit it, that show of his back in the bedroom had really turned her on. Although he was rough, insensitive and domineering, he was also exciting, gorgeous and one hundred percent male.
Hell. Maybe that’s why she’d had a panic attack. She wasn’t used to his commanding presence nor was she used to being so deceptive. It made complete sense that her energy would be disrupted. As soon as she could, she’d slip out of the office and pay a visit to an unsuspecting human. No doubt they had vials of blood here, but she felt the need for the real thing. Even though it had only been a week or so, she could feel her energy stores slipping. She might as well make plans to replenish what she’d lost. She’d have to figure out a good place to go since she wasn’t familiar with Seattle. Besides, it’d give her an excuse to follow up on that lead about Ian, no matter how far-fetched it was.
“Well, what do we have here?” A dark-haired man in jeans and a muscle shirt came around the corner. Santiago’s grip on her shoulder tightened. The man held a couple of beer bottles in one hand and let his gaze linger slowly over her body, making her hackles go up.
I’m not an object, dickhead.
“Santiago, you devil. I didn’t know you were with someone new. Whatever happened to that chick you met—”
“Roxy,” Santiago said, cutting him off, “this is Val Gibson. He’s on loan from the San Diego office. Up here in the Northwest, we’re a little more civilized than that ragtag outfit down there, so don’t pay attention to his poor manners.”
On loan. It made him sound like a library book. Bummer. She liked libraries.
“Gibson, this is Roxy. She’s…my fiancée.” The last word fell from his mouth like a bomb.
She jerked her head up. Fiancée? Since when were they getting fake married? She sure as hell didn’t remember agreeing to that. Santiago had an impish glimmer in his eye as if he was enjoying torturing her. Well, two could play at this game.
“Holy shit, Santiago. When did this happen? You horny dog, you.” Gibson grinned exactly like a hyena, she decided. If hyenas could grin, that is. No, wait. She changed her mind. An alligator. She liked mammals a lot more than she like reptiles.
“We’ve known each other for a while but recently got reconnected and…well…one thing led to another and here we are.” Santiago patted her bottom.
She gritted her teeth while trying to keep a smile plastered to her face. This was absolutely ridiculous. Girlfriend was one thing, but fiancée? How far-fetched and unbelievable was that?
Gibson looked her up and down again with this new information. “So the CO doesn’t need to be chasing skirt night after night now that he’s got it waiting for him back home. Were you getting tired and decided you needed a sure thing?”
God, she hated both of them right now.
She wrapped her arms around Santiago’s waist and rested her head on his chest, ignoring the amazing way he smelled. Turning slightly so that she could see Gibson, she gave him her sweetest smile. “Aw, baby,” she said to Santiago, “we really can’t be lying to folks like this. Go on, tell him. He doesn’t look like he’ll be too upset.” She poked him playfully in the stomach.
“Upset?” Santiago looked down at her, confused.
She held out her hand to the alligator, half-expecting to get some strange energy vibe from him when they touched, but there was nothing. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Mr. Gibson. I’m Roxy. Mrs. Roxy Santiago.”
“You’re…you’re married?”
“Yeah, isn’t it great?” She looked up at Santiago with the best adoring, new-bride expression she could muster.
He stood there, rigid, shocked. Good.
Gibson’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates and his gaze ping-ponged between them.
“I kept trying to tell Pookie here that we needed to have a big wedding and invite all of our family and friends, but he insisted on eloping. Said he couldn’t wait that long until everything was official. He was eager to start our lives together as husband and wife, isn’t that right, sweetie?”
The murderous look on Santiago’s face was priceless. It was all she could do to keep from laughing. Her stomach hurt from holding back.
“I…ah…”
“So we flew to Vegas and got married by Elvis.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE MINUTE THE door to his bedroom chamber slammed shut behind him, Santiago erupted with every swear word he could think of. “What the hell was that back there?”
He stalked over to where Roxy was standing next to the closet. She didn’t back away from him as he would have expected, which made him all the more frustrated. He wanted people to move, to be affected by him, and she wasn’t. Balling his hands into fists, he had half a mind to sweep off all the items from a nearby credenza and listen as they crashed to the floor. Then maybe she’d react.
She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and crossed her arms over her chest. That little move pushed her breasts up, c
reating visible cleavage where there had been none, and it shot straight to his groin.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, her eyes fiery and determined, like she wasn’t about to back down.
“Now everyone thinks we’re fucking married.”
As soon as they got to the kitchen, Gibson had opened his big mouth. People were surprised, of course. The women flocked around Roxy with smiles and hugs, while the men congratulated Santiago with hearty handshakes and promises of celebratory cigar smoking. Xian, who had been making donuts, made what he called a “wedding donut” iced with hastily colored red frosting, and had them feed pieces to each other. Claimed it was some Chinese good luck thing. But Santiago had his doubts—donuts didn’t seem very Chinese to him.
She calmly brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Guess you should’ve thought through the ramifications of your brilliant announcement to Gibson.”
“Me? You were the one who told him we got married in Vegas.”
The smudge of powdered sugar on her lower lip made him long to lick it off. Given the donuts she’d eaten, her mouth would be sticky and sweet. He wanted to kiss her just to find out. To push his tongue past the seam of her lips, press his body against hers. Maybe even slip his hand up her shirt and fondle one of her breasts. No doubt the sweetness would transfer to him when he pulled away. Licking his lips now, he could almost taste it.
“Sorry to break the news to you, but that’s what usually comes after you get engaged, so it’s your own damn fault. You did tell me to pick out a last name that was easy to remember. I figured you wouldn’t forget your own. I just hope you didn’t blow it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last time they saw you, you didn’t even have a girlfriend other than the bimbos—wait, the skirts that you chased. How credible is it that you’re now married?”
She did have a point. “Well, they know I’m an impulsive person sometimes.”
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