Tarek had just walked back into my life.
My eyes skipped around the empty lot, searching for Christian. He said he’d only intervene if there were an imminent threat. Tarek had plunged three venomous fangs into my neck not long ago, almost ending my life.
That felt pretty imminent.
“Tarek.” I greeted him, turning on my heel. The snow flattened beneath my boots and I tucked my arms around my body protectively.
A tan coat with a fur collar replaced the sinister look of the black wardrobe he’d once sported. I suppose that his new position entitled him to finer threads. He still had the short black Mohawk, except now more hair grew from the sides of his head as if he might be growing it all out. Most Chitahs had light features, but Tarek’s hair was dark, and it made his golden eyes ominous. His brows furrowed and his lip curled. “Out for a bite, little Mage?”
The joke was getting old.
He laughed and I charged up my light, knowing I’d never outrun a Chitah.
“What do you want?”
He widened his stance. “Now that’s a question I’m hearing more and more these days,” he said, dusting off his jacket with his leather gloves. I couldn’t help but notice his tall, heavy boots.
“Sorry, sweetie, but I learn from my mistakes.” Tarek tapped his heel on the ground. “These boots are specially lined, so I don’t think you’ll be having any luck if you intend on cutting my heel again.”
He lifted a silver case from his pocket and pulled the lid back, putting a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth before snapping the case shut. With an etched lighter, he lit the end and watched me with steady eyes as the paper crackled. After a consuming drag, Tarek tucked the lighter in his pocket and chuckled privately. Smoking didn’t seem like a smart habit for a Chitah who relied on sense of smell.
I once asked Logan why he chewed on mint. He explained that he’d discovered that mint cleanses the palate and sharpens the emotional flavors on his tongue.
A white cloud of smoke hovered between us.
I cursed myself for looking away, unable to hold his menacing gaze. It made me feel inferior and Chitahs fed off those emotions. “I have no business with you, Tarek. What’s done is done between us. Nero is wasting his time if he’s still looking for me.”
Tarek sucked in another drag and the end of the cigarette pulsed orange. With a flick of his wrist, he dropped it in the dirty snow and aggressively stomped on it until the poor little thing was squashed from existence.
“Maybe my business with you doesn’t involve Nero. I’m sure you’ve heard the splendid news about my promotion.” He pinched his gloves over his tongue, picking off a stray tobacco leaf as he raked me over with his eyes. “A man in my position can have whatever he wants.”
“You can’t have everything.”
“Can’t I?” He cornered me between my car and a brick wall outside the diner and I looked around the dark parking lot. He brushed a wave of hair away from my face with a sweep of his hand. “What does Cross see in you?” he asked himself. “Why would he lie for you?”
My heart raced as he drew uncomfortably closer.
“Leave us alone, Tarek. If you don’t have business with Nero, then you don’t have business with us.”
A smile parted his lips. “Your distaste for me is a turn-on, you know that?”
“I don’t know why you have the audacity to despise Logan so much. Just because your kindred spirit didn’t choose you?” I was really stirring the pot now. “He loved her, and you should be ashamed of your crime. Katrina’s death almost ruined him, but he’s managed to move on, despite what you did to her. Logan didn’t steal her from you, Tarek. You threw her away.”
Faster than a heartbeat, his hand clamped around my throat. My chin rose, feeling the hard push of his fingers against my jawbone. He slowly relaxed his grip and smoothed his gloved hand down my neck. I grabbed his wrist and threw a burst of energy into him.
Tarek grimaced and then shook his head as if I’d only slapped him. I didn’t put half as much energy in him as I normally would have because I didn’t know the repercussions of attacking a Lord.
“When Cross knows what it is to lose, I’ll sleep at night—however that loss comes. Your Vampire friend is distracted at the moment and can’t hear our conversation, so this is just between me, you, and the fucking wall.” His finger pressed against each object he pointed out. “I will cut out your heart and everyone you love. You will see their deaths before you see your own.”
I couldn’t seem to draw in enough air. “What do you want?
His lips hooked into a grin. “You.” Tarek brushed his hand across my cheek and pinched my chin. “You can either choose to watch your entire life ripped apart or you can choose me.”
“If I say no?”
“I’ll start with gutting that cat of yours and spilling his insides on your doorstep. Oh yes, I know you have a mangy pet because I can smell it on you,” he said with a wrinkled nose. “Then I’ll hunt down the Cross brothers and kill each one of them, starting with the youngest. Logan will witness their deaths before it’s his turn. It’ll be slow, painful, and you’ll watch every horrifying second of it. But he won’t be allowed to take his last breath until you take yours; I wouldn’t want him to miss that for the world.”
A frosty breeze tangled a few strands of my hair and I felt more frozen than a glacier.
“Choose me and your friends will be safe. I won’t touch a single hair on their heads. That means you’ll be mine. No one will have any right to challenge me if you choose me.”
“Logan will challenge you, Tarek. He’s already claimed me as his kindred. That means—”
“Nothing. There is no kindred outside of our kind. He lies to you, and you’re a fool to believe him. If you accept my claim, no male can legally challenge me because of my title. I’ll be sure the mating ceremony is quick, as I wouldn’t want to have to kill your boyfriend if he tries to attack me. Our mating won’t be legal in many ways, but I’m a Lord, and I’ve got a few ideas on that obstacle.”
“Wait a minute… stop.” I held my hand up defensively. “You want me to be your wife? And if I don’t, you’ll… Why are you doing this?” Tears welled in my eyes.
“Because I can?” He shrugged and a tiny snowflake landed on top of his head. “Cross is my sworn enemy and that means something. I will not relent until I taste my revenge. Tell no one of this or I will remove your choice. I will take that away from you and all will die. I am Lord of my Pride, Mage. Consider that. I can make it happen with a snap of my fingers and you won’t be able to bargain your way out. I have far too much protection and you have no evidence. Tell one living soul and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that everyone you love is put into the ground, either by my hand or that of my men. And I’ll find out; I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
My head swam. Tarek would hold to his word. If just one life were lost because of me, the blood would be on my hands.
He scraped his boot along the concrete, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “My terms are conditional; you can never tell Logan the truth. He must believe that he’s not worthy enough, that he didn’t meet your standards as a suitable mate. If I suspect for one minute that you’ve told him about this—and I will scent it on him—then I’ll follow through with the original plan. You will cradle his neck as he takes his last breath, and he will know that the blood of his brothers is on your hands. They’ll all die, Mage. Everyone you love. No mercy.”
I hadn’t even noticed that my right hand was raised, as if I might revoke his threat with five splayed fingers. He held my wrist, lowered my arm, and leaned in so close that his sour breath touched my cheek.
“Tell Cross you’re attracted to something that he doesn’t have: power and position. I’ll be generous and give you time to think about your answer. The next time we meet, be ready to give it, or I’ll make it for you. Choose to be my mate. I have other conditions that you will follow through with—no exceptions. Or we’ll sta
rt with your human friend, Sunny.”
Then, just as suddenly as he appeared, Tarek stalked off.
He saw me as nothing more than a means to an end, a trophy of his battle with Logan. Even if I broke it off with Logan, Tarek would fulfill his promise.
Now that he was protected by guards and in a position of influence and authority, Tarek had absolute power.
***
The gritty sound of heavy footsteps running in my direction came up from behind. A shadow of a man, his coat flared in the wind against the white contrast of snow. Damn, I had to get it together.
“Hey, Christian. My car wouldn’t start, so I’m just giving it a minute.”
He quirked his brow and glanced at my locked door. “Another Vampire gave me chase. You all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s just this stupid car. I should have listened to Justus and got the BMW,” I said in a flustered voice. “What Vampire?”
“He attacked me without provocation. We’re not typically aggressive to one another, but he continued shoving me down the street and attracting too much fecking attention. I couldn’t risk a human pulling out a camera and recording what I would have liked to do to that fanghole,” he said with disgust laced on his tongue.
“Maybe you should have put the garlic in your pockets the other night,” I said, walking to the car.
Christian spun me around and laid his right hand across my clavicle. His black eyes scoped the parking lot. “What happened just now?”
“Nothing happened. Now quit feeling me up.”
He released his grip and I slid my key into the lock. This time, it went in without complaint.
Christian leaned over my back and spoke in a low voice beside my ear. “Your heart is racing a mile a minute. A little car trouble wouldn’t cause that kind of reaction. There are tiny beads of sweat on your brow that you probably aren’t even aware of; your hand is trembling, and if I tasted your blood,” he said, holding my wrist to his mouth and smelling of my skin, “I would know just how afraid you are.”
I snapped my wrist out of his grip. “Don’t threaten to bite me, Christian. That would not end well.”
Before I could slam the door, he caught the frame. He looked at me long and hard. Studied me the way you might look at the inner workings of a watch. When I turned the engine over, it hopped to life without a stutter.
Chapter 10
Page lazily opened her eyes, warmly wrapped up in her grandmother’s blue afghan. The last thing she recalled clearly? Trudging through the snow outside Silver’s house and then vomiting in the bathroom. That must have been when her fever spiked.
She remembered getting up several times that night and chills racked her body relentlessly. Her muscles still ached. Relics were at a disadvantage because they were one of the few Breeds susceptible to human disease.
At least the worst of it was over. She wanted to kick herself for venturing out at the onset of symptoms.
Page glanced over her right shoulder and gasped at a man looming next to her bed. It took a second to realize she knew him.
Justus stood with one hand tucked in his pocket and the other in the fold of his armpit. His body swayed slightly, but his eyes remained closed.
Dear God, the man was asleep.
Dawn peered through an opening in the drapes, dividing the room with a ray of hazy light. Her window faced east, so that meant from the time she went to Silver’s house, twenty-four hours had passed.
“Mr. De Gradi,” she whispered.
Page slowly sat up and peeled the blanket away. Startled by the sight of her bra and panties, she yanked the blanket up to her chin. Gradually, her memory returned.
Oh no, she thought. Did I really strip in front of him? Page could have died from embarrassment. Building a respectful relationship with clientele was critical, and she had essentially given him a peep show.
“De Gradi,” she said firmly, pushing the flat of her hand against his stomach.
In a swift movement barely visible, his hand flew out and snapped around her wrist. Fear slapped her in the face and she gasped.
After three hard blinks, he immediately released his grip and took a step back.
“No need to be frightened,” he said, rubbing his weary eyes. “You were ill. What can I get for you?”
She wrapped the cover around her exposed back and said, “I need some privacy.” Justus lowered his eyes and turned away.
With the blanket wrapped tightly around her, Page hopped off the bed in a hurry, not thinking that her legs might be weak. She wobbled unsteadily and when Justus caught her, she wriggled out of his grasp.
“I’ll leave you,” he said, turning away and closing the door behind him.
Her reflection in the oval mirror above the bathroom sink startled her. What a sight. Mangled hair, pale skin, the bruise on her eye was starting to turn green, and her eyes were sunken in from exhaustion. Not the look of a woman of twenty-six. Other women her age looked vibrant and young, while Page’s lifestyle of stress had taken its toll. She dressed conservatively so the immortals wouldn’t see her as such a child.
The fever must have caused her skin to become sensitive, so she passed on the shower and slipped into a blue robe. No point in running a comb through her hair since he had already seen Page looking her worst, but she did brush her teeth.
Page had been told a number of times that if she ditched the reading glasses for contacts and put on something sexy, she’d have no problems getting a man. She had once dated a guy named Gaston who told her the smart look was hot—until a girl with double D’s walked into his life.
School had always been a critical step in her career path until the day she discovered she was infertile. That changed everything and Page dropped out of school to work fulltime. That knowledge fueled her desire to become the best at her job; if she couldn’t pass on her genes, then she would serve her Breed well before her genetic line ended. As she had no siblings, the La Croix family knowledge would die with her.
When Slater found out her secret, he insisted that she undergo fertility treatments and try to conceive with him. Slater wasn’t attracted to her, and yet he expected her to carry his child? Combining their genetic knowledge to produce brilliant offspring became his obsession.
That was enough to make her nauseous all over again.
Page opened the bathroom door and noticed the sheets had been changed and the bed turned down. She tightened the belt around her knee-length cotton robe and crossed the living room.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, entering the kitchen.
“You need to eat,” he ordered, standing by the stove. No, he demanded.
“There’s no need for you to stay here, Mr. De Gradi. I had no intention of putting you out.” She took a seat in the nearest chair and stared at the linoleum floor. “I can take care of myself; I’ve been doing it for years.”
“If you took proper care of yourself, you would not be sick.” He twisted around and gave her a scolding appraisal. She hated that look on men. It was the primitive “me man, you woman” sentiment and implied that women were just no good on their own.
“I do fine.”
He turned around and said quietly, “You could do better, Page.” She glanced at his long-sleeved shirt with the V-neck opening in the front. The casual style reminded her of Robin Hood or something.
“Why do you address me by my first name when I never gave you permission to do so?”
It was inappropriate for a client to address a Relic informally unless told otherwise. Some just called her Relic, which was acceptable.
“Would you prefer that I call you Mademoiselle La Croix?”
Her breath caught.
His pronunciation of her French name, along with the appropriate title, was perfect. So much so that it straightened her spine like an arrow.
“Are you of French origin?”
He turned away and scraped the skillet with a spatula. Page stood up and noticed he was victimizing the hell out o
f a couple of eggs that never did any wrong to him.
“Here, let me do that,” she said with a smile.
He shifted his body between her and the pan.
“You’re murdering the eggs.” She looked up at him and realized this was one battle she wasn’t going to win.
The tips of the hairs on his head captured the light and were dark blond. Thanks to spending all night at her house, he’d also gone without a shave and the stubble on his face was the same color.
“Then tell me how you prefer them. Tell me what to do and I’ll prepare them the way you like,” he offered.
The open part of his shirt around his collarbone caught her attention. It seemed like no matter what time of day or night, Justus De Gradi was always at his best. Fresh shave, sharp clothes, expensive watch, and designer shoes. Something about this look on him was rustic and simple.
“No,” she said, reconsidering. “What you have is fine.”
This Mage had been more than generous in not only driving her car home, but also taking care of her while she was sick. Page wasn’t about to put him down for making her a meal.
He stalked over to the trash can and dumped the eggs inside. “No, it’s not fine. Tell me how you like your eggs.”
“You just wasted them! I would have eaten your eggs.”
“Tell me how you want them cooked. But first, I want you to sit in that chair.”
While his words were curt and demanding, he made no move to force her. He wasn’t trying to boss her around in the wrong kind of way; Page was on her feet when she should have been lying down. She often used that tone with her more stubborn clients. Doctors always make the worst patients.
Too tired to argue, Page gave in and eased into the chair. While scraping her fingers through her tangled hair, she gave the Mage instructions on how to cook eggs and he followed them to a T. Right down to the correct amount of butter, milk, and pepper.
Gravity (Mageri Series: Book 4) Page 9