The whole engagement thing had come out of the blue. When he saw how Gibson was looking at Roxy with those dark, lascivious eyes of his, Santiago lost his mind for a moment. “She’s mine,” he wanted to hiss at Gibson, “so keep your goddamn hands off of her.” He almost grabbed her and kissed her right then, making a public show of it. Or better yet, drag her into one of the alcoves designed for little trysts between casual acquaintances and make love to her in order for his scent to be mixed with hers. Then there’d be no question that she was his. Announcing their engagement to Gibson was mild compared to what he’d been thinking.
She examined her nails as if the state of her cuticles was more important than him. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
No, he didn’t know. Why was he always so thick-headed around her? It was as if he lost all ability to make rational, well-thought-out decisions. The engagement thing being just one example, because that clearly was a huge mistake. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
“You’ll need to buy me a ring.”
He almost choked. “What? A ring?”
“Yep. What woman—engaged or married—doesn’t have a ring? The women I met in the kitchen asked to see it, so I had to make up an excuse, how we really hadn’t planned this, that it just sort of happened. If you want this new little plan of yours to be authentic, I’ll need one.”
Could this day possibly get any worse? What kind of a trench did he dig himself into? “Okay fine. We’ll get you a wedding band.”
“No, I want a diamond. A big one.” One corner of her mouth quirked up. She was really enjoying this.
“Oh, for godsake.” Running a hand over his close-cropped hair, he was at his wit’s end with this woman. He was hanging off the edge of a cliff with just his pinkie finger, and even that was slipping.
“Tell me about it.”
He stormed around the room, cursing. The vibration of his pounding boots rattled the items on his desk. This woman was impossible. Simply impossible. She was a five-foot-seven-inch pain in his ass and he was supposed to pretend they were married?
She continued standing right where he’d left her, watching him like you’d watch a dancing bear with a tutu—slightly amused, slightly incredulous and slightly perturbed that someone would put a skirt on an animal.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was—he sighed heavily—right. It killed him to even admit that to himself, let alone her, but there was no getting around it. “Fine,” he grumbled. “We go ring shopping tomorrow.”
“Good. That’s the first logical thing I’ve heard you say since we got here.” With her chin jutted out, she tossed her hair behind her shoulder and headed toward the bathroom. Despite being angry with her, he loved how she walked away from him, the little spring in her step, the slight sway in her hips. He was pretty sure she knew he was watching.
Well, two could play at this game. “Engaged, married. Guess we’d better get on with things then.”
“Excuse me?” she said, turning.
He proceeded to strip off his T-shirt, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Then he kicked off his boots and started unbuttoning his pants.
“Now hold on there.” Her eyes widened and suddenly that bravado of hers was gone. She was staring at his hands on his zipper. He rather liked it and he could feel himself growing harder under her scrutiny. “What are you talking about?”
“A newly married couple would be having a lot of sex, so why don’t you slip into some sexy lingerie and meet me under the covers in, oh, say, twenty minutes?” He stepped out of his jeans, aware that his black boxer briefs did little to hide things.
She froze for a moment and two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks. But then she seemed to catch herself and reloaded her indignation.
“Screw you.”
He grinned. “Exactly what I had in mind.”
* * *
SLIP INTO SOME sexy lingerie? Ha.
The only thing Roxy was slipping into was this sensible swim suit in her gym bag. She’d do a few laps in the field-office pool and Santiago could chill out back in the room. Alone.
What in the hell had she gotten herself into, she thought as she entered the women’s locker room and changed in one of the private stalls.
If she wasn’t so attracted to him, none of this would be a big deal. They’d have had a civil conversation about what to do then each would’ve retired to their respective sides of the bed.
But a relationship with Santiago could never be casual—it was too volatile for that.
With his domineering, bossy ways, he’d worked his way into every little nook and cranny of her being, whether she wanted him there or not. She tried not to think about him now, but when she breathed, she could still smell him. One of the stripes on a towel someone left behind perfectly matched his eye color. As she excited the locker room and headed for the pool, the drip drip drip of a faucet reminded her that time was running out and that she’d soon be sharing a bed with him.
Maybe if she swam enough laps, he’d be asleep when she got back. And if not…
Hell, what would be so bad about caving in to his demands? He was without a doubt the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. Sex with him would be off the charts. When he’d undressed in front of her, it was all she could do to keep upright. She wanted to grip the wall or the edge of the desk, but she was determined not to show the effect he was having on her. Seeing him like that—his trim stomach, his flexing muscles, the large mound barely concealed beneath his boxer briefs, and, yes, she had to admit, the verbal sparring—made her desire him all the more. She thought she might die from sheer pleasure, right then and there.
Most women would be thrilled and excited at the prospect of sleeping with a man like Santiago and jump at the chance. Normally, she was able to control her emotions and feelings better than that, but with him, the dam broke, the rope was cut and the rubber band snapped, all at the same time.
Setting her towel on a nearby bench, she dived into the deep end and began methodically slicing through the water. As she swam, her thoughts clarified.
If she gave in, if she let him into the most vulnerable part of herself, she might never get it back. Instinctively, she knew that Santiago would not be just a casual hookup, that things with him would be so much more. He affected her in ways that she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Maybe ever.
Besides, a relationship with him would never make sense. They lived too far apart, he was too hotheaded, and her first priority was the promise she’d made to Ian’s mother, Mary Alice. If she let herself get distracted by affairs of the heart, she may never find out who killed Ian and that simply wasn’t acceptable. She needed to remain focused and committed to her original goal and letting Santiago in would change her priorities.
She was so distracted that she lost count of her laps. Instead, she swam until thirty minutes had elapsed and hoped she’d done at least sixty. After a quick shower, she headed back to Santiago’s rooms. Fully expecting him to be propped up like a king in that bed of his with his hands clasped behind his head, waiting for her, she was surprised to see him at his desk. With a phone to his ear, he wore a black silk robe and didn’t turn around when she shut the door behind her.
Good. Maybe he was too busy to come to bed just yet. She changed into a T-shirt and an old pair of yoga pants, the furthest thing from sexy lingerie she had. Her hair was still damp, so she tied it into a loose ponytail on the top of her head and climbed under the covers.
The sheets were warm. He’d turned on the electric blanket for her. She grabbed two of the pillows and laid them down the center of the bed as a sort of barrier, akin to old Scottish courtship traditions. She’d stay on her side and he’d stay on his. Rolling over, she listened to the richly textured tone of his voice. It was clear that he was talking to Mackenzie about Dom’s condition. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she grabbed her iPod and played some relaxation music.
She closed her eyes just to rest them. She wanted to
stay awake so that she could ask him how Dom was doing and how Mackenzie was holding up.
She awoke with a start, not realizing she’d fallen asleep. Pulling out her earbuds, she glanced at the clock and noted it wasn’t time to get up yet. Without looking, she knew he wasn’t on his half of the bed. His scent was strong enough that she knew he was nearby, but when she stilled her breathing, she couldn’t hear him.
She slowly rolled over and looked across the room. He wasn’t at his desk and— How strange, his chair was gone. In fact, his side of the bed was still made up, as if he hadn’t been in it at all. Something near the closet drew her attention. She pushed up on her elbows and saw what looked to be a skinny beam of sunlight streaming out from under the closet door. What the hell? These rooms were far underground, weren’t they? She had been in the closet earlier and hadn’t noticed a window.
She flung the sheets back and padded across the room in her bare feet. Careful to stay out of the tiny patch of light, she slowly opened the door.
The light hit her exposed skin and she felt the drain immediately. She jerked back in alarm. It was a UV light.
Shading her eyes, she peered cautiously around the corner and almost choked. Santiago sat in the middle of the closet right underneath that blasted light. His eyes were closed and his expression was twisted into one of extreme pain. He was purposely sitting under a UV light.
“What are you doing?”
His head jerked in her direction, the contortions in his face a mixture of anger and pain. “Leave me alone,” he roared. He didn’t make a move to leave.
“Not till you turn that light off and tell me what’s going on.”
“This is private. Get back to bed.”
She leaned on the wall outside the closet, just out of the beam of light jutting into the room. “No.”
He exhaled heavily and she could almost hear the gears of his thoughts making all sorts of mental calculations. “I’ll be…out in…a sec.”
Folding her arms, she counted to ten. Why would he do such a thing to himself? There was no benefit to bathing in UV light. Unless you deemed weakness and a craving for blood to be a benefit. She heard no rustling to indicate he was coming out.
Screw it. If he wasn’t going to come out on his own, then she was going in after him. It was madness to wait any longer. Shading her eyes with her hand, she plunged into the closet, found the electrical cord, and pulled it out of the socket. The room went full dark, the pull on her energy stopped, and she spun to face him.
“What are…you doing? I said to leave me alone.” His face was drawn, the tiny lines around his eyes more pronounced.
“It’s too bad I don’t follow direction well.” Now, to get him out of here and into bed. Although sleeping would help replenish what he’d lost, what he really needed was blood.
She looped his arm around her shoulder and forced him to stand. Despite his protests, he leaned heavily on her and walked out of the closet.
“How long were you in there? And why would you purposely do such a thing? That’s just—”
“Crazy?”
“Well…yeah.”
Depending on how long he’d been in there like that, it could take him several days or a healthy ration of blood to replenish what he’d lost.
He mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out as she got him into the bed. His fingers and toes were little bricks of ice. She pulled the covers up around him and stooped down to see him eye to eye.
Little good that did. He turned away from her, obviously not wanting to talk about it. Without thinking, she reached out and gently massaged his shoulder.
“Ouch.”
“No wonder it hurts. You’ve got knots on top of knots. Now roll over.” He tried to protest, but she’d have none of that. “I’m going to work on these kinks and you’re going to tell me what you were doing with the UV light. Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
She rummaged around in her suitcase, grabbed a few things, and returned to the bedside. She was going to ask him to remove his robe, but he looked totally wiped, so she’d do it for him as soon as she plugged the little speaker into her iPod. Relaxation music poured into the room and she turned back to the bed.
“Here, let’s take your robe off.”
This time he didn’t protest, just kind of lifted his arms for her to remove it. As he lay facedown on the bed, she tried not to think about how it would feel to put her hands all over him. She would try to make this as clinical as possible.
Pouring out a small amount of eucalyptus oil into her hand, she rubbed her palms together and began working on his shoulders. His skin was pulled tight across bunched muscles as her hands slid over them, kneading as she went. She tried her best to get at a knot just under his left shoulder blade but she couldn’t quite get it from this angle. So she climbed onto the bed and straddled his torso. Yes, much better. Although he groaned as she worked, she kept going and slowly his muscles began to loosen.
“So why were you under that light? Are you trying to torture yourself or what?”
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“Well, I did.”
“I thought you were sleeping. I figured I had plenty of time.”
“I woke up.” She located a particularly hard area under his shoulder blade. “Breathe in. Yes, good. Now hold it.” She pressed her thumb onto the knot and leaned all her weight on it. “Breathe out slowly.”
“Oh, God,” he groaned, exhaling. “That hurts like a motherf—”
“Yeah, but let’s do it once more and I’ll bet it’ll be just about gone.” They repeated the steps, and sure enough, that took care of it. Neither one of them said anything for a while. She continued to work on him, knot by knot, and he continued to groan with each one. Placing the heels of her hands on either side of his spine, she pressed down and heard it crack.
“Oh, my God, that felt good,” he mumbled when she was done.
“Okay, so tell me why you do that to yourself.”
He shifted and she quickly moved off of him to sit cross-legged on her side of the bed. Though he still looked tired, he was much more relaxed now.
“Only if you tell me why you joined the dakai.”
CHAPTER TEN
“YOU MUST BE referring to my tattoo.” She rubbed her right shoulder, leaving a slight mark on her T-shirt from the massage oils still on her hand. “I’m surprised you recognized it. Not many do.”
“I’m familiar with it. My sister was a member.”
She furrowed her brows. “Yours, too? I mean, not that I have a sister. It was a coworker’s sister who got involved. I was asked to infiltrate the group in order to get her out.”
“What?” He jerked his head up too fast and the room began to spin. Despite that awesome massage, he was still weak. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked, “So you’re not a dakai?”
“Nope. They’re a freaky bunch, let me tell you, but I knew they wouldn’t accept me without the tattoo. What happened to your sister?”
He sank back in the pillows, feeling as though a rug had been pulled out from under him, but not in a bad way. He’d been keeping a healthy distance from Roxy because he thought she practiced the ways of the dakai. Finding out she wasn’t was like finding out she was a completely different person. She was the same, of course, but it was his perception of her that radically changed. “She’s gone. The cult left her penniless and she died in Prague many years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” She reached out and touched his arm, emphasizing her sincerity.
He didn’t understand. What about the aromatherapy? The meditation? The yoga? The bizarre chanting music that was still playing in the background. “Why do you practice all this—” he waved his hand in front of him “—mumbo-jumbo shit then, if you’re not in the cult?”
She scowled and he realized that he’d offended her, which hadn’t been his intention. “Sorry to break it to you, but some of these techniques happen to work. Case in point—I’ll bet you feel bett
er right now than you normally do after you do that UV mumbo-jumbo shit of yours.”
Okay, so he deserved that.
He stretched his neck first one way then the other. The tightness was gone and his muscles did feel much looser. He’d had massages before, but there was something about the way she did it that was different. Maybe some of these bizarre practices did have a place after all. “You’re right. I do feel much better.” She still looked pissed. “Sorry,” he added. “I didn’t mean to come across so—”
“Ignorant? Condescending?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, feeling pretty sheepish. She’d just spent thirty minutes giving him a pretty killer massage. He didn’t need to insult her.
“Apology accepted. Okay, it’s my turn to ask a question.”
“Fine. Ask away.”
“I want to know why you sit under a UV light? I get the impression this isn’t the first time.”
As if he didn’t know that was coming. “You won’t understand.”
“Try me.”
He thought about lying, making up some crazy-assed story, but he realized he didn’t want to. He felt like telling her the truth. There was a sincerity in her voice that made him want to open up and have her understand how he ticked. But this was uncharted territory. He was used to keeping things to himself. Not knowing where to start, he chose the blunt route.
“Because it’s the only thing that makes me feel in control again. After a royal fuck-up, my inner voice tells me what a loser I am and only through punishment will I learn to be stronger.”
She looked pissed again. “What kind of self-talk is that?”
“The brutally honest kind.”
“No, it’s toxic and destructive, that’s what it is. You seem very capable to me. When your people were hurt, you jumped to action and quickly formulated a plan. How is that screwing up and warranting that kind of mumbo-jumbo shit in the closet?”
“Do you need a list?”
“It’s just that you’re so wrong about yourself, Santiago. I wish I could make you see that. You’re one of the most take-charge leaders I’ve ever met.”
Seduced by Blood Page 10