Bite Me

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Good. And you take good care of our little Olivia. Your mother may find her too tiny to be worthy of love—”

  “When did I say that?”

  “—but I like her. She is good for you and doesn’t appear to find your awkward silences off-putting.”

  “Thanks, Papa.”

  Vic walked back into the bedroom, a briefcase in his hand. Shen was beside him, but when they saw Livy naked and on top of the comforter, Vic shoved the leering panda out of the room by poor Shen’s face.

  “Hey!” Shen yelled through the door. “What was that for?”

  “What are you doing?” Vic asked Livy.

  “Waiting for you.”

  “How about some clothes?”

  “I felt like being naked.”

  “What do you mean, you felt like being naked?”

  “I really don’t know how to make that sentence any clearer.”

  “There are people all over the house.”

  “My family’s seen me naked. And there are no cubs . . . so I’m not sure what the problem is except you’re jealous that Shen saw my ass.”

  “Yes,” Vic replied. “I am jealous he saw your ass.”

  “It is a nice ass!” Shen yelled through the door. “You should feel very proud!”

  “Thank you!” Livy called back.

  Vic yanked the door open, and Livy heard Shen’s big panda feet running away.

  “Enjoy that, did you?” he asked, slamming the door.

  “I do so like being naked,” she teased. “If I could, I’d walk around naked all day long.”

  Vic chuckled. “And if I could, I’d let you.”

  Vic placed the case his parents had given him in the closet and stretched out on the bed with his back against the headboard. If Livy noticed the case, she certainly didn’t show it.

  “Sorry about my father,” Vic said. “He has no boundaries. Especially when he likes someone.”

  “I find his directness refreshing. Like Kyle, without the personality disorder.”

  “Kyle doesn’t have a personality disorder.”

  “No. He just makes other people have them.”

  Vic studied the cover of his book and asked, “My father didn’t . . .”

  “Scare me off?”

  “You like your space.”

  “I like tight spaces, but I don’t like to be crowded and I don’t like to be backed into corners. I don’t feel that way with you. Never have. That’s why I was always in your cabinets. Tight space but no crowding. Which, considering the height and width of your immediate family, is extremely amazing. More importantly, there’s something you keep forgetting.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Livy placed Vic’s book aside and crawled into his lap, her thighs on either side of his, her arms resting casually around his neck. “I don’t scare. Kyle told me my lack of fear was a sign of my sociopathic nature. I told him that should make him very worried that I would kill him in his sleep. So he stopped saying it.”

  Vic laughed and stroked Livy’s naked back. His fingers traced the healed wounds—now scars, he guessed. Some were indented, reminding him of the holes they’d made. Others were raised, keloids. It reminded Vic how close he’d been to losing Livy.

  “You make me want to burrow,” Livy told him, her arms moving down to his waist as she snuggled into his chest. “Usually I want to burrow away from people,” she murmured. “You’re the first I’ve ever burrowed toward.”

  Vic wound his arms around Livy, making sure to keep her close so that she couldn’t see his smile. So that she wouldn’t know, not yet.

  Because her words meant everything to him. More than he’d ever thought they would.

  CHAPTER 33

  Livy woke up swinging, her fist ramming into Vic’s palm, which he was quick enough to raise so that she didn’t hit his face.

  “Good morning.”

  Livy cleared her throat. “Sorry about that. I dreamed I was fighting rampaging squirrels . . . and Blayne.”

  “Were you winning?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She sat up. “You going out?”

  “Back to the City.” Vic lowered his head. “I’ve got important work to do.”

  “You look adorable when you’re trying to be terrifying.”

  “Are you saying I’m not terrifying-looking?”

  “No. I’m saying that I find your terrifying look . . . extremely attractive. Should I be worried about where you’re going?”

  “No. Just organizing a few things. But there is something you should know.”

  “What?”

  Vic gave a weird, almost guilty smile, which made her nervous. “Well . . .”

  “What?”

  “It’s funny you mentioned Blayne.”

  Livy scrambled to her knees. “She’s here . . . isn’t she?”

  “She wanted to talk to you about the wedding. Since apparently she still plans for you to be the photographer. But, if it helps, Gwen, Lock, and Novikov are with her.”

  “You’re not lying to me, are you? She is here. Just to torment me.”

  Vic kissed her on the cheek. “I may avoid telling you things because I don’t want you to snap, get your hands on a death ray, and start wiping out whole countries . . . but I would never lie to you.”

  “How do you know I’d get my hands on a death ray?”

  “Kyle said he was designing one, because it needed to be aesthetically attractive, and was going to have Freddy and Troy build it.”

  “Then I can get my hands on a death ray . . . that’s good to know.”

  “And that’s what has me worried.”

  “Are you going into the City alone?”

  “Bringing Shen.”

  “You’ll be careful?”

  “I will. You promise not to throw another locker at Blayne?”

  “No.”

  “Livy, remember? Novikov and Lock saved your life. And Novikov loves Blayne.”

  “Why?”

  “Livy.”

  “I’ll be nice.” She tried to smile to show her sincerity, but Vic leaned away from her.

  “Don’t . . .” He shook his head. “Don’t force it.”

  “That bad?”

  “Yeah. It’s that bad.”

  Gwen sat down on the couch next to Lock. He’d been quiet since they’d pulled into the driveway, and although he wasn’t a chatty bear in general, it wasn’t like him to say nothing.

  “What’s going on with you?” she asked, not bothering to lower her voice since she couldn’t be heard over Blayne’s excited squealing as she ran out the French doors that led to an enormous backyard.

  “Nothing.”

  “Hate when you lie to me.”

  Lock shrugged those massive shoulders she sometimes hung off just because she could. “He bought her a house.” He glanced over at Novikov, who didn’t seem impressed by his own purchase. Then again, Novikov rarely seemed impressed by anything. “Actually, he bought her a mansion. I made you a table.”

  “The mahogany one you had in the back room of your workshop?”

  “You saw it?”

  “Saw it. Loved it. Already planned to move it into the new apartment.”

  “It’s not a mansion.”

  “And you’re not Novikov and I’m not Blayne.”

  Blayne squealed again and charged back into the living room, slamming the doors behind her. Something rammed into the doors from the other side, nearly sending Blayne crashing to the floor.

  “Squirrel!” she squealed.

  “What?” Novikov asked.

  “Squirrel!”

  “What did you do to them now?”

  “I didn’t do anything. They just attacked me!”

  Novikov rolled his eyes and began looking around his house again. “Man, these badgers are sloppy. We’ll have to bring that cleaning service I like in to go over the place again before we can stay here.” Another bang at the door and Novikov glared at Blayne. “Would you stop fooling arou
nd with those squirrels?”

  “Me? I didn’t do anything!”

  “You sure? You didn’t try to pet one?”

  Her back still against the door, Blayne admitted, “I just wanted to see if they were friendly.”

  “Well . . . now you know they’re not.”

  Gwen looked at Lock. “And I am seriously okay with not being them.”

  Livy walked into the room, and Gwen was happy to see her friend-in-derby, whom she privately called “my personal battering ram” looking healthy and surprisingly happy, considering.

  “Hey,” Novikov greeted her, a real smile on his face.

  “Hey.” She nodded at Novikov and then Lock. Livy’s way of saying “thanks for saving my life” without actually saying it.

  “Livy! Hey!” Blayne cheered from her spot at the door, her body the only thing keeping the squirrels outside.

  Livy studied Blayne. “What are you doing?”

  “Slight problem with a squirrel. Or squirrels. Probably squirrel s at this point.”

  “Oh yeah.” Livy walked up to Blayne, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her from the door. She snatched the doors open and hissed. Panicked squeals and chattering followed, and Livy closed the doors.

  “Sorry about that. My uncles got drunk the other night and kind of had a feeding frenzy out there with the squirrels and raccoons.”

  Horrified, Blayne demanded, “Why would they do such a thing?”

  “I wouldn’t let them bring snakes here and they were hungry for something that would fight back.”

  “Thanks,” Novikov said. “For not bringing snakes in here.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Really?” Blayne asked her mate.

  “What do you want me to say? ‘Go on, bring your snakes in’? That sounds poorly planned, in my opinion.”

  Blayne dismissed her mate with a wave of both hands and suddenly walked toward Livy, arms opened wide. The badger immediately held her hand up, stopping Blayne in her tracks.

  “No,” Livy told Blayne.

  “But—”

  “No. No hugging. You can say ‘good to see you’ from there.”

  “Oh, come—”

  “No.” When Blayne stamped her foot in frustration, Livy offered, “I can open those doors and let those squirrels right back in here.”

  “Fine. But you’re being kind of a bitch.”

  “To be honest, I’ve never been kind of a bitch. I just am.”

  Blayne glared at Gwen. “And you can stop laughing.”

  “I could . . . but I won’t.”

  Dee-Ann sat at the kitchen island in the apartment she shared with her mate. And it was her mate who put a cup of coffee in front of her and said, “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t know why.”

  Ric sat down next to her. “Because you’re kind of . . . depressed. I’ve never seen you depressed before. It’s completely freaking me out.”

  “I failed. Hate failure. Just another word for weakness.”

  “How did you fail? If anything, it sounds like our bosses failed. Miserably.”

  “You didn’t see how your friends all looked at me. Like I’d shot Kowalski myself. I’ve never not been trusted before.”

  “Dee-Ann.”

  She revised her statement. “I’ve never not been trusted before by those I wasn’t actively trying to kill. Happy now?”

  “Just trying to keep you honest.”

  The doorbell rang, and Ric kissed Dee-Ann on the forehead before walking out of the kitchen to answer.

  “Dee-Ann?” Ric eventually called out.

  “What?”

  Ric came back into the kitchen. “You have a visitor.”

  She looked up to see Barinov taking up the entire doorway.

  “Hey, Dee-Ann.”

  “It wasn’t me!” she suddenly exploded, surprising everyone in the room, even herself. “I’d never put someone in that kind of danger. All right, maybe Blayne, but Kowalski ain’t ever annoyed me as much as that mutt—”

  “Dee-Ann. Dee-Ann!” Barinov chuckled. “I’m sorry we bailed the way we did. At the time I was not comfortable trusting . . . anyone.”

  “You trusted Novikov,” she couldn’t help reminding him. “And Blayne.”

  “It’s a mutt thing.”

  Ric snorted, and when Dee glared at her mate, he quickly walked toward the refrigerator. “Would you like something to drink, Vic? Orange juice? Honey soda?”

  “No thanks. I’m actually here to let Dee know . . . wait. There’s honey soda?”

  “Y’all!”

  “Sorry. Sorry. We found Whitlan.”

  Ric closed the refrigerator and faced Barinov. “You found him?”

  “He’s being protected. Heavily.”

  Dee-Ann shrugged. “Don’t care if he’s being protected by Satan himself, where is he?”

  “Russia.”

  “Oh, you can’t go there,” Ric immediately replied.

  “Van Holtz—”

  “Don’t even, Dee-Ann. You can’t go to Russia.”

  “Ain’t nobody gonna stop me.”

  “Since the prime minister still so lovingly refers to you as The Murdering Twat, I think we need to come up with another option. And who, exactly, is protecting Whitlan in Russia?” he asked Barinov.

  “Rostislav Chumakov.”

  Ric’s mouth dropped open, and he took a step back. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. We have a plan to lure him to New York, but we need someone to deal with Whitlan in Russia. We could use one of our Russian contacts, but considering who Chumakov is . . .”

  “He’s on the BPC board.”

  “Plus, he’s a powerful mobster. I don’t know many shifters willing to take on bears. Especially connected bears like Chumakov.”

  “I do,” Dee-Ann said. “I know someone who’d be more than happy to do this job.”

  “Dee-Ann,” Ric reminded her, “you can’t go.”

  “Not me. But it is someone I’d trust with my life. And all yours.” Dee-Ann grinned, and both men backed away from her.

  Barinov shuddered. “No offense, but I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  Livy looked over the unbelievably meticulous drawing of the wedding venue that Bo Novikov had created.

  “This is very . . . precise,” she noted.

  “I knew you probably couldn’t come to see it until the day of the wedding.”

  “Very true. Did you study architecture in college?”

  “Never went to college. Figure if I want to know something, you can always find books to read about the subject.”

  “I see.” No wonder Toni knew how to handle Novikov so well. He was just another freaking prodigy. Brilliant while emotionally stunted.

  “You will be at the wedding, though . . . won’t you, Livy?” Blayne asked.

  She could have tormented Blayne, like she did most days. But Livy just didn’t have the heart. Not when the wedding clearly meant so much to her.

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Russian bears with guns wouldn’t keep you away?”

  They all looked across the table at Gwen. She shrugged and admitted, “It sounded much funnier in my head. Then when it actually came out of my mouth . . .”

  Lock took Gwen’s hand. “I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘too soon.’ ”

  Livy shrugged. “There’s no ‘too soon’ with the Kowalskis.”

  “You know what really sucks,” Blayne pointed out. “You can’t come to the bachelor-bachelorette party we’ve planned. No strippers.”

  “Although my mother did beg,” Gwen sighed.

  “My mother did, too,” Lock added. “But only out of intellectual curiosity.”

  “Yeah, right,” Livy snorted. But when the grizzly glared at her, she choked back her laughter. “Just kidding.

  “You know what?” Blayne jumped up from her chair and began to pace around the table. “We should move the party here.”

  “You’re
unfamiliar with the concept of being in hiding, aren’t you?” Livy asked.

  “We’ll just invite a few friends. That way you don’t have to miss anything!”

  “That sounds like a great idea!”

  Snarling, Livy turned toward her nosy cousin. “No, Jake.”

  “Come on! Everybody loves a party.”

  “I was very clear to you about how you’re going to treat this house. No parties. No snakes. No stealing.”

  Novikov tugged on Livy’s sweatshirt. “I find detailed lists about what they can and cannot do . . . very helpful. They may not stick to it, but you do have proof that you told them.”

  “You guys are forgetting something,” Blayne stated. “This is my house. A wedding gift from my future husband. And if I want a fucking party here, I’m going to have a party.”

  Lock pointed at Livy. “Your eye is twitching uncontrollably.”

  “We in the family,” Jake said, his hand landing on Livy’s shoulder, “call that Livy’s tell.”

  Livy spun and rammed her fist into her cousin’s stomach. He didn’t drop, but his knees looked ready to buckle and his face blanched.

  “Did I tell you that?” Livy asked.

  “You want me to help who get into my country?” Grigori Volkov demanded.

  Vic held up his hands. “No, no. I can get him into the country. I need your Pack to lead him to Chumakov’s territory through yours.”

  “Oh! Well then!” Grigori’s voice boomed around the room. “Is that all?”

  “Grigori—”

  “You come to me, bringing your stuffed panda with you—”

  Shen looked away from the e-mails on his phone. “Hey! What did I do?”

  “—and you dare,” Grigori yelled, getting in Vic’s face—one of the few men who actually could—“ask me to lead this . . . mangy sobaka into the territories of my people?”

  Vic placed his hands on Grigori’s shoulders. “Referring to a fellow wolf as a dog does not help anyone, Grigori Volkov.” Vic stepped closer to his friend. “But giving a fellow wolf assistance in this matter . . . would reward you, old friend, with a powerful ally.”

  “More powerful than me?”

  “In this country? Yes.”

  Grigori turned away, and Vic knew the old wolf was turning over the possibilities of an alliance in his head. Like a true Alpha wolf, Grigori only appeared to be led by emotion, when in fact, wolves were a cold, calculating species, often loving only to those they considered part of their Pack.