by C. D. Gorri
Ty held back a quick reply. Alfie nudged his hand, offering support. Garian, a notorious vampire bounty hunter, was effective, but he led with brutality. Ty could handle Garian. Ivy could probably hold her own against him to some extent, but she’d force Garian to do something violent to bring her in.
“I won’t let Garian hurt her.” That was the truth. “What do you want from me, Marcel?”
“Luca and I want our sister found and brought home. Before Garian gets to her. You know we’re not unreasonable about this pronouncement mess. Well, I’m reasonable. If she can give us a legit reason for running before facing the guy our parents want her to mate, then we can work to get her out of it since I think that’s what she wants.”
“Your mother said Hugo was her choice.”
Marcel barked out a laugh. “Can you see her and that control freak who thinks himself a mafia boss? Why they chose him is unclear, but obviously, he charmed Mom. We both know he’s rich, but shady.”
Hope beat down the betrayal in his chest. Hugo might not be her choice. He said it again in his head.
Marcel said, “If Garian finds her and takes her in, Hugo could kill her out of pure spite since those are society rules. I don’t know Hugo well enough to know how much he values Ivy staying alive. We need your help. Do it for your friendship with her, or I’ll pay you. At this point, we don’t care how much it costs to find her.”
Ty’s watch vibrated with an alarm. His house security system had been breached and deactivated. Whoever was there had also turned off the cameras. Impossible. The system was top of the line, unhackable. Garian, perhaps? He picked up a run again, tearing up the last half-mile to home with Alfie hot on his heels.
“You there, Ty? I think I hear you breathing.”
“I can’t find her for you.” It came out breathless.
“What are you doing?” Marcel groaned. “Don’t answer that if you’re in the middle of it with a girl.”
“I’m running.”
“Oh, okay.” It came out sarcastic. Ty didn’t deserve the implication of manwhore. Sure, he’d had his fair share of human hookups long ago, but not in ages. “Why can’t you find her?” Marcel asked.
“She doesn’t want to be found. If she contacts me and she wants to be found, I’ll let you know.” He ended the call. He hoped he’d made clear she came first. He’d protect her against Garian, and even against her brothers, if she needed.
He retrieved a gun from its hidden vault under his front porch stairs and pushed into the front door. No one attacked.
He sniffed the air. Familiar. The smell of a specific flowery shampoo made in a small town in southern France.
Sitting on his kitchen counter, Ivy swung a hiking-boot-clad foot in a slow pendulum movement. Her long legs were covered in soft, pink pajamas, and a matching silken bathrobe floated loosely around her. The pink matched the colored ends of her long, dark hair.
“Coming in guns blazing. That’s kind of hot, Ty. But don’t shoot.” Ivy held up her hands. “I’m unarmed.”
He lowered the gun and placed it on the counter. Fantasies starring her spiked. Not that he had the right to act on them ever again. Unreal to think this exquisite woman who he’d wanted to be his for more than half his life might soon belong to someone else. When he’d kissed her those weeks ago, he’d confirmed he loved her as far more than a friend. Perhaps he always had, but he’d never let himself consider it. She was a Martens, and that meant her parents would choose someone rich and with a deep bloodline for her—which they had.
“Why are you on my counter?” It came out a lot crankier than intended.
Without answering, she reached down to pet Alfie’s ears. The dog had rushed her to put his head on her legs. Traitor. Not that he blamed the guy. He’d give his left nut to do the same.
“Hey, Alfie,” she said with a soft smile and petted the dog’s head. “You taking care of Ty?”
“Hier,” he commanded gruffly. Alfie returned to him and sat obediently at his side. “Ivy, are you over here because you’re afraid of Marcel finding you?”
“I’m not afraid of my little brother. I’m avoiding him. Why aren’t there any chairs in here?” She waved at the lonely kitchen table.
“Why are you here? I thought we weren’t talking.”
“It’s below freezing outside, and I got cold waiting for you to get back.” She had the audacity to sip tea from one of his Berlin Coffee Haus mugs that he’d picked up when he went into the city. Out here, good coffee could be found, but not like there. Based on the smell of what she’d brewed, it was the expensive tea he’d purchased a few months ago in Mumbai. Maybe he’d bought it with her love of tea in mind.
She toasted her mug toward him. “Want me to make you a cup?”
“You broke into my house.” Had she gone through his stuff? Which of his things interested her?
“A girl’s got to do a little B and E sometimes.” She shrugged.
“No woman I know does that on a whim.”
“Your hookups are generally less exciting than I am.”
He hadn’t actually “hooked up” in so long that he barely remembered what the phrase meant, unless what the two of them had done last time qualified.
“Seems you’ve been having more hookups recently, haven’t you?” There was an edge to her tone. Sounded almost jealous. His heart lurched with hope, but he remembered Hugo. Maybe not her choice.
Over the past few weeks, he’d met human women and invited them to his place thinking he should “hook up.” It’d help him forget Ivy. Never worked out. One touch, one almost-bite, and he’d fought back instant nausea. Every. Single. Time. He only wanted Ivy. Who he couldn’t have.
“How’d you get past the security system?”
She glanced toward the keypad by the front door. “Got the code on the first guess.” She beamed. “The date of your dad’s death. I mean…duh?”
Of course, she’d figured it out. She knew him that well. Actually, better than anyone, despite the fact they’d never crossed the full-on sex boundary. She’d helped him survive when his father had been murdered four years ago. The only reason he hadn’t fallen apart and had been strong enough to assume the mantle of his father’s vampire fixer empire sat in a sexy-as-hell outfit on his counter.
She’d been a stabilizing part of every milestone that had carved him into the person he’d become. His dream of them having a life beyond friends had crashed and burned weeks ago. He had to heal the divide. He missed her. He still wanted her. Hell, he always would, but he’d stuff his lust if it meant they could resume some part of their friendship.
“You turned off the cameras. Why?”
“Must’ve been an accident. It was beeping. I was stressed. I hit a couple of things. What’d you do with the chairs?” She arranged her hair into a messy bun.
What he wouldn’t give for her to be here to announce she’d planned their next wild trip.
Buuut…nowhere frozen again. He’d almost lost three toes to frostbite while mountain climbing in Nepal last year.
Ty forced himself to break free of the intensity of her green-blue gaze to glance at the oblong kitchen table devoid of chairs where she’d tossed a winter jacket. “I decided they’d look better with a different stain. I’ll get to refinishing the table once I decide on the color.”
“Oh.” The word didn’t come out judgmental, but in a tone filled with understanding of his complex need to refinish furniture as a mindless outlet during his infrequent spare time. As a fixer, he often ripped apart vampire lives or attempted to repair what had been damaged. Bad outcomes happened often, whether it was emotional or financial loss, injury, or even death. Not that he was an assassin—at least, not all the time. He could dole out death, but it didn’t solve problems. The hardest deaths happened when he failed to protect someone. He was good, but he wasn’t perfect. Working with furniture, he had control. He’d never met a damaged piece he couldn’t fix.
“You think it’ll look good?” Her subtle
inflection suggested interest in seeing what he’d make. A jolt shot through him, giddy for her opinion.
He shrugged.
She said, “You’re sweaty.”
“Just ran five miles. It happens.”
“I’m surprised your sweat didn’t freeze your nipples off out there. Or that you didn’t get frostbite on your legs. How do you survive half-naked outside? They’re calling for some sort of ice storm insanity to hit later tonight.”
Frozen nipples? Naked? The fact she’d even thought of sweat on his…
Not taking his mind there. But it went there anyway.
I’m stone cold, clear-headed, and vicious. Except when it came to Ivy. He’d survived being shot, knifed, beaten, and buried alive, none of which killed a vampire, but it hurt a lot. Through all of it, he’d remained steady and cool-headed. Nothing shook the detachment that kept him alive and made him exceptional at his job. Except her.
He swallowed hard against his suddenly dry throat. “Why are you hiding out at your aunt’s guest house across the street?”
“You keeping tabs on me over there?” Her eyebrows shot up. She stretched her shoulders and tossed back her head, exposing her long neck and pulsating jugular. “It’s kind of a turn-on to think you might’ve watched me over there. Let me clarify. I’m not turned on by just anyone stalking me. But you…”
“Ivy…” He tugged a hand down his face. A woman never exposed her neck to an unmated male vampire and talked about being turned on, especially when he was ramped up on a post-run endorphin high and experiencing erotic flashbacks. “Are you saying you think I’m hot?”
“That’s a rhetorical question, right?” He must’ve given her a funny look. She rolled her eyes. “Good Lord, Ty. I never understood why you don’t notice that women of all species lose the ability to think let alone speak around you. Your whole dark-and-deadly aura mixed with tight muscles is a killer look that makes women lose their minds. I’ve had moments… Like that time you lost your shorts in the hot springs.” She fanned her face. “But I’ve learned how to handle it.”
Not losing focus. He needed to figure out why she’d broken into his house. But she thinks I’m hot. Did she want to pick up where they’d left off after he’d bitten her? Oh, Christ. His ability to resist her if she continued on like this would be reduced to zero in minutes. They couldn’t. The vows may not have come out of her mouth to pledge herself to Hugo, but her parents had given her to that guy. In the eyes of vampire society, she was as good as mated to him.
To kiss down the soft skin of her neck with his tongue on her jugular vein would be exquisite.
No more breaking rules. She’s promised to someone else.
All desire for her needed to die a swift and immediate death.
“Did you touch my stuff? Other than the tea?” he asked harsher than intended.
“What does it say about you that you fold your underwear and organize it by color?” Her lips suppressed a grin, but her eyes laughed.
His pulse picked up. “How dare you go through—”
“Relax.” She held up a hand. “Wild guess, Mr. Neat Freak. I’ve seen how you pack your suitcases. They’re disgustingly organized, unlike mine. I didn’t paw through your undies tonight.” She rolled her tongue against her cheek. “The idea turns you on, though. The thought of me rifling through your unmentionables, maybe burying my face in your shirts just to get a whiff of you… Oh, for God’s sake, close your mouth. Just wanted to give you the imagery to keep you company while you’re taking care of that when I leave.” She pointed to his shorts, where there was no hiding how much he wanted her.
He shuffled to put the kitchen island between them. “You’re dangerous.”
“Always was, baby. But you were the one who decided not to notice me. Then when you finally did, it was you who threw on the brakes. I won’t lie to you, Ty. We promised that to each other. No lies. I would’ve gone the whole way without regrets that night.”
He gritted out, “You belong to someone else.”
“I didn’t that night.” All playfulness dissolved from her face, which smoothed into granite. Her lips thinned.
“Why’d you break in tonight, Ivy?”
“I got cold while Marcel was poking around.”
“Your brothers are right to be worried about you. Go home and deal with this. I’ll escort you there. It’s about to get life-threatening. Your fiancé hired Garian Rigo. He’ll stop at nothing to accomplish the job.”
She hopped off the counter and pulled the edges of the silky bathrobe tight around her. “A bounty hunter?”
“Why are you running? You chose to spend your life with…Hugo, didn’t you?” He choked out the name. “At least, that’s what your parents said.”
“Did I say that? I don’t recall those words ever coming out of my mouth.” She met his gaze but didn’t back up as he approached. He loved that about her. She gave him pure fierceness when he could back down or eviscerate just about anything alive, be it with words or weapons. His job fixing vampire fiascos, which usually meant oopsies with humans, whether it be an accidental death or pregnancy or exposure, ran the gamut of ethical limits to make things right. Most people and vampires fled from him if he so much as glared. Not her. Never Ivy.
“Your parents told me you chose Hugo.” Over me. Had he wanted to stop that night? Hell, no. He’d halted because he wanted what they had sanctified by vampire society so she was his without question. Too many times he’d seen those who got involved without elder permission get ripped apart or killed. He’d expected that approval to happen within forty-eight hours. And then they could finally do everything, but her parents chose Hugo.
“My parents have proven three times now that they suck at choosing partners for their kids. You remember last year they arranged for Marcel, not Luca, to marry Jasmine? Totally got the wrong brother. I fought with them for Marcel to be free of that misadventure. Everyone knew Marcel loved Hans, except my parents.”
Hugo wasn’t her choice. He’d known it in his gut but needed to hear it from her. He couldn’t think beyond the noise of his heart pounding inside his head.
She asked, “Did you hear about Luca and Jasmine? It all happened so fast. Went through the mating ceremony and everything. I told you they were right for each other.”
His lips twitched. “You did call it a long time ago that the two of them would end up together. Are you still good friends with Jasmine?”
She shrugged noncommittally. “Refinishing furniture means you’re spiraling. About what?”
Why should she even need to ask? Between their friendship explosion and the most recent disasters of his work, he was hurting. But so was she, it seemed. “You never finished the painting you started last year over at Nana’s. Why? That’s what Marcel saw. Are you doing other stuff?” Painting came from her soul. She was known worldwide under a fake name for her contemporary concepts. When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Did you stop painting?”
“Lack of inspiration.” She cleared her throat. “It’s not like I’m sitting around on my ass doing nothing. I’ve been knitting sweaters for injured penguins in South Africa.”
Sweaters?
“Taught myself how to knit.” She compressed her lips. “I never said I wanted to be with Hugo. You don’t believe me? Seriously?” She hit him lightly in the arm. “That was all my parents. Did Marcel come to my defense to point out that Hugo was wrong for me? Did Luca? Did you?”
Ty stayed silent, but air tightened in his chest. Hope buoyed upward. This was why she’d run.
“No. No one did. So what was I to do? I’m not going to spend my life with that guy.” She was gorgeous when furious. The way color rose on her face, her breaths coming hard enough that her breasts pumped against the silky top, her pale eyes flashing.
Alfie was sitting next to her, choosing her over him to lend support. And that’s why he loved this dog.
“Just like you, Marcel deserted me. Everyone left me in my moment of need when I was faced
with my parents’ ridiculous choice.” Her eyes narrowed on him as she took a step forward and poked him in the chest. “Eyes up here.” She pointed at her face. “I’m not wearing a bra. Mystery erased. Get over it. I had to leave Nana’s in a hurry when Marcel surprised me.”
“No bra,” he muttered. His gaze didn’t stay on her face but returned farther south, to the pointed nubs of her spectacular breasts.
“Are you listening to me? This is my life we’re talking about. Not my tits.” She put a finger on his chin to lift his head.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s distracting, but I hear you.”
“I refuse to be used as a pawn for power moves or become someone’s breeding factory. Beyond that, what’s most important is you broke our promise. Freaking broke it.”
“Promise?” His heart thrashed against his ribcage as his mind rewound that night like it had done every day since the second his lips had touched hers and they’d both nearly wound up naked. He’d gotten a taste of her blood—sweet, rich, and absolute perfection. Needed to keep his head in this, even though it was tough when his mind stalled out on her braless state.
“We promised to always have each other’s back. Pinky swore when we were eighteen. Remember?” She held up her pinky finger. “I called you. I left a message, begging you to meet me when they said I had to make vows to Hugo. All I wanted was a few minutes with you to figure out why where my head should be. But you poofed out of my life.” She snapped her fingers.
Message? What message?
“Ivy—”
“You deserted me,” she said. “Then, Hugo…he…”
A protective surge raised his hackles. “Did he do something to you?”
The bottom dropped out of his stomach. His jaw tingled with the pain of clenching his teeth. He’d kill Hugo if the beast had laid a single hurtful finger on her. He’d rip the vamp apart, regardless of his status as the one her parents wanted to affiance her to. Didn’t matter. No one would ever find his body.