Chapter 3
But I didn’t go find him. This might seem stupid—in retrospect, it definitely was—but the fact was, even within an hour of them leaving, it was kind of difficult to believe it had happened at all. I mean, three men burst into my apartment to ask me about a guy I’d only talked with for an hour in my whole life and gave me some cryptic message to give to him? It sounded a lot like a nightmare. Like maybe New York had just gotten to me and I was dreaming about scary things people might do, like march into my apartment and choke me until I agreed to bring nonsensical messages to people I didn’t really know.
In any case, by the time I saw Dominick again, it had been two and a half days and I’d almost convinced myself none of it had even happened. I hadn’t forgotten it, of course, but I was presently telling myself that I just needed to make it to three and a bit before my subconscious would calm down and understand that it had just been a dream and there was really nothing to be all that worried about. Because honestly, who worried about that sort of crap? It was stupid and childish.
But then I saw him. I was off work, just dumping the last of the day’s trash into the bins, and kind of swearing a lot because I was wearing sky-high heels and I’d forgotten to bring any backup shoes. This wasn’t Oregon. I couldn’t afford a car here, there was sure as hell no way I could park one in the teeny spots they had, and I took the tube everywhere—and anyway, all that meant was I didn’t have flip flops in my car. My feet were killing me.
But there he was, just passing by the end of the alleyway. I said I’d only met Dominick for about an hour? Well, there was no mistaking him. I knew those shoulders, that nose, the way he walked. I knew, and dammit, he was just as sexy this time as he had been the first time.
“Dominick?” I called his name tentatively, and there was just the faintest hesitation. “Dominick!”
He looked over at me and I saw him take notice. The first time maybe I’d been dressed up like a schoolgirl, but it had been late and I’d been sloppy and I’d only had on lipgloss and my heels. This time, my makeup was freaking perfect, my hair was all blown out, and my v-neck went down almost to my belly button. I was a knockout, and I knew it—my tips attested to the fact.
He appreciated it, too. Which was the same look from the night before, and dammit, why hadn’t he wanted to come home with me? Of course, I fought a chill. The fact that he was here meant that…well, no. It wasn’t true. It had been a dream, right? A way to rationalize my sore throat when I woke up the next morning. I’d met Dominick and my brain had come up with some weird dream.
And then everything on his face flickered away. He looked like a mannequin.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked.
“We met at the bar the other night.” I didn’t even bother giving my name. I wanted to get this game over with as soon as possible. “And you just recognized me, so don’t even pretend.”
“I think you have the wrong guy.”
“A guy who looks just like you and also answers to Dominick, you mean?”
“Look, I’m sorry, you seem really nice, but I don’t remember you at all.”
“I don’t seem really nice, I’ve been a bitch since you stopped walking.” I had been, too, but he’d started it. “Look, I have to talk to you.”
“And I have to go.”
“It’s not about that!”
“Bye.” He turned around, and I blurted out the only thing that came to mind.
“James came by my apartment.”
At that, he froze. He turned around, narrow-eyed, and something shot through me like ice. He knew that name. He knew it, and he was here, and unless I’d just dreamed a whole shift of cocktail waitressing, I was awake. And that meant…
Shit.
“James?”
“Yes, James,” I said impatiently. “And two other dudes. They came and almost broke my door down to look for you, and then they told me to give you a message: they’re going to find you, and you might as well just turn yourself in.”
He stared at me for a moment. He was getting angry. His chest was rising more rapidly, and I didn’t mind that—it made his pecs stand out under his shirt, and I could just picture making him breathe that hard myself—but something told me that I didn’t want to see this guy angry.
“He…” His hands clenched. And then his black eyes looked at me, anguished. “Alicia, I am so sorry.”
I stared at him, open-mouthed. He remembered my name, I thought stupidly. And then I couldn’t manage to think about anything else, because he stepped closer, and his fingers came up to trail over my neck, where James had tried to choke me. It was like he could see the bruises that hadn’t ever showed up.
I couldn’t breathe. All I could think was that he was touching me, and I felt frozen. His fingers were gentle, tracing over the skin of my throat, brushing my hair back over my shoulders. I watched as he stepped closer, tilting my head up to look at him; even when I was wearing those ridiculous heels, he was still tall enough that I had to look up. And then one of his hands slid around the back of my neck, gently, and held me in place as he bent to kiss me.
Then I remembered how to move. My arms came up around his neck and I pressed myself up the length of his body, hearing him groan. His other arm came around my waist, possessive, holding me in place as though he expected me to run. And he was right, I should have—but I had absolutely no intentions of letting him get away, not when I could slide one palm down over his pecs and feel his abs hard against mine. His lips were soft, unexpectedly so, and he kissed me sweetly, like a summer romance with hard lemonade and strawberries. I forgot we were in some dingy alleyway in New York. I forgot about James. I forgot about the way Dominick’s eyes seemed to go blacker than black when he was angry. I just kissed him.
“You swear you’re all right?” he asked me softly, leaning his forehead against mine. His hand was still holding my neck.
“They didn’t hurt me.” I took ahold of his sweater and kissed him quickly on the lips, giving a little laugh when he held me close and let the kiss deepen.
And then his face went blank again.
“I have to go.”
“Whoa! Hey, wait!” But he just kept striding away, and I had to click after him in those ridiculous heels. I knew very well just how dangerous the ground was here. I wasn’t giving myself broken glass in my feet just to chase him down. “Dominick.”
“I can’t stay to talk to you.” He turned and gave me a Look, capital L.
“Why the hell not?”
“Has it occurred to you that I’m trying to save your damned life?” he snapped at me. “We talked once and I told you not to push it, and you got in the middle with James. Well, if you’re lucky, now that you’ve given me the message he’ll leave you alone. If you’re very, very lucky.”
“How is he going to know I gave it to you?” I had the sudden memory of James looking back over his shoulder: we’ll know if you don’t.
“I’m going to…” His voice trailed off. “Get inside.”
“What?”
“I said get inside.”
And he was gone, so fast that I couldn’t even see him go. Like I said, werewolves are fast. At the time, though, it just seemed like a man in a nice sweater disappearing in a puff of air, which was really pretty annoying when I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to tear the sweater off or tear him a new one with a rant. But more on that later. I looked over my shoulder and saw just what he had been looking at: three men, advancing down the alleyway towards me.
Dominick, you bastard. The man had straight up abandoned me. I yanked the door open to the kitchen—thankfully, packed with people—and tumbled inside just as the three men shot down the alleyway and after Dominick. James gave me a look as they went past, and something told me that they’d been following me just to see what I did. That was how they’d known whether I was going to give him the message.
I did not like this. Not at all.
It took me about thirty minutes to calm down enough to go home, and then I felt miserable. I’d left Dominick to fight off three other guys, maybe he was right and I should have left it alone that first night, and it sure as hell wasn’t my issue…but it still felt cowardly. How could I do that to him? I hunched over myself in the back hallway, trying to decide what to do. Even if I wanted to, though, I couldn’t find him—I didn’t know where they’d gone.
It turned out that I shouldn’t have worried about leaving him to fend for himself, though, because just as I came out of the restaurant, still miserable, I saw them waiting for me.