He stiffened against her, and a part of her felt guilty. Asking for soap wasn’t the most romantic thing, not after the explosive passion they’d shared, but what else could she say?
Hey, thanks for the best orgasm ever? Because missing some memories or not, she doubted she’d ever experienced anything so intense. Even his bite, a rough bit of play she’d not expected, proved pleasurable.
Thing was, though, while she enjoyed herself immensely she doubted he felt the same. Fabian was a man of the world. A man who probably had a dozen girlfriends or lovers—give me their names and they’ll die.
Such a bloodthirsty thought. However, she couldn’t stem the spurt of jealousy. For some reason, she thought of Fabian as hers, which made no sense. She still barely knew the man. They’d met what, a day ago? Not even.
Maybe it’s love at first sight?
She could have scoffed at the very concept. Surely she wasn’t some ninny who believed in that rubbish, but how else to explain the instant connection she felt to the man, a connection she wanted to deny and would certainly never admit?
He’d mock me for sure if I claimed we were soul mates.
Hence why she sought to put some distance between them, to play down what had just happened.
While she could sense his displeasure radiating, he nonetheless handed her the soap. The suds made her all too aware of the abrasions on her hands. She hissed at the stinging burn as the cleanser hit the broken skin. She raised them in front of her to rinse them in the shower spray.
A low growl left him. Was he about to go rabid? He turned her in his arms and grasped her by the wrists. He peered at her palms. “Bastards.”
His vehemence pleased her, but his word also reminded her of the fight on the road. “Don’t you mean bears? Because I am assuming that’s what they were?” Her eyes rose to meet his.
“Yes, they were Ursan, which makes this whole mess surrounding you even more mysterious. Who are you? And why are some shifters determined to end your existence?”
Wouldn’t she like to know? “Maybe I’m a secret bear princess.” Her lips tilted as she teased.
“As I mentioned already, women can’t be shifters.”
“Well, that sucks. Talk about sexist.” She pinned him with a glare.
He held his hands up. “Don’t blame me; blame biology.”
“So no chance at all I’ll start going after picnic baskets?”
He shook his head, bursting her theory. Not that she’d truly believed it. Her shock at discovering Fabian and those other men weren’t a hundred percent human had rocked her too thoroughly. Surely if her real self knew about the masks some men wore she wouldn’t have reacted so strongly. Then again, was her reaction normal? After all, knowing he could go furry hadn’t stopped her from having sex with him.
And without protection, too! Dammit. “We didn’t use a condom,” she noted.
“My kind are not plagued by the usual diseases. While we might have certain strengths and weakness of the body that vary, and we do eventually succumb to age, we are a healthy bunch.”
“What about babies, though? Can you impregnate women?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you worried that we might have, you know? I mean we have no idea if I’m on the pill or anything. What if you knocked me up?” For some reason, the idea didn’t frighten her like it should have. In her normal life, could she hear her biological clock ticking?
“You aren’t in a fertile cycle, which means you’re safe.”
“I am not going to ask how you know that.” Because the answer would probably freak her out. “So what happens now, oh growly one?”
“Now we figure out who those men were working for. Eliminate the threat. And find out who you are.”
“Eliminate, as in kill. Just like you killed those thugs.” For some reason, the fact that Fabian had nonchalantly announced fatal violence didn’t bother her. As a matter of fact, she felt a certain satisfaction in knowing he was a man of action who didn’t take threats sitting down. He took care of them just like he took care of her.
But how long could she expect him to keep doing so? How long before he tired of protecting her and putting himself at risk, not only of injury or death, but of the police?
She spent the next few days wondering about that, as lead after lead turned into a bust.
“How can nobody be looking for me?” she grumbled on the fifth morning over breakfast—which meant a heaping plate of fluffy eggs, crisp bacon, savory potatoes, freshly squeezed orange juice, a glazed donut, and strawberries sprinkled with sugar. That was just for her. Fabian ate all that plus a few pancakes as well. “Doesn’t anybody give a damn I’m missing?” Surely someone in her old life cared?
“I’m sure your disappearance had been noted, but for some reason, they are keeping it on the down low.”
“Why would they do that?”
“There could be lots of reasons. Maybe they’re waiting for a ransom notice. They could have a fear that a public outcry could lead to your demise.”
“Or we could subscribe to Occam’s razor and go back to the simplest theory. No one gives a damn.”
“I give a damn.”
The words warmed her, but then again, what about Fabian didn’t heat her?
While her days might be spent in frustration as their investigation failed at every turn, her nights were anything but.
Since their passionate session in the shower, she shared the master bedroom with Fabian. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she was more than happy to indulge him. At least their erotic interludes managed to distract her from the big question of “Who am I?”
More and more, she wondered if it mattered. With Fabian, she found herself happy, and really, what more could a person ask for?
How about not getting killed?
It was that very question that wouldn’t allow her to relax in this new life. For all she knew, danger lurked, waiting for her to lower her guard. Or was she being paranoid? Surely if someone wanted her dead, they would have tried something else by now. Then again, only a brazen idiot would infiltrate Fabian’s property. She’d seen the cameras outside the house. Noted the men patrolling. And heard the howls at night.
So did no attack mean she was safe, or were more killers waiting for their chance?
Only one way to find out.
While Fabian had demanded—in bed while nibbling on her tender bits—to not leave the property and the security measures he had in place, playing it safe meant they didn’t know if she was still being watched.
Fabian was useless to discuss it with. As soon as she made any mention of going into the city, he shut her down.
“No leaving the property until I know you’re safe.”
So cute, but impractical, which was why when Fred tried to stop her from getting into the Lincoln Town Car—whose key she filched from the board in the kitchen—she snapped. “Listen. I appreciate what Fabian’s trying to do. But I can’t live like this.”
“Milord is simply trying to keep milady from coming to harm.”
“Which is totally appreciated, but I feel like a freaking prisoner.”
“Milady has free rein of the house.”
“Bingo. The house. I can’t even go for a walk outside unless he’s with me. And only an idiot would attempt something with him there. The only way we’ll really know if the threat is gone is if I leave this place.”
“It is perhaps not my place to point this out, milady,” and, yes, Fred insisted on the title despite the fact that she’d told him not to. Then again, given the only other name she had was the nickname given by Fabian of Vixen, she couldn’t really give Fred another option to call her. Although she was certain he must have thought, Bitch, on more than one occasion, like now. “But while your desire to assess the threat level is understandable, leaving without a proper escort is foolhardy.”
Wince. Fred sure knew how to insult while sounding utterly polite. Probably learned that skill in butler school. “What are you suggesting, that I pack this car with bodyguards while I go shopping? How the hell is that supposed to tell me anything? Only an idiot would go after me with a ton of guys in tow.”
“Milady is correct. However, there are other options.”
“Such as?” She regarded the older gent, as usual properly dressed in slacks, the seams pressed, a white shirt, and a vest. No coat. His bald pate gleamed, and she wondered, not for the first time, if Fred purposely waxed it to get that shine.
“Say a group of guards were to leave at random times, with the knowledge of milady’s whereabouts. To ensure no suspicions, you would take one man with you when you depart the premises.”
“And these other guys that you send out in advance would what, skulk around the stores I’m going to hit for some clothes?” Because while Fred meant well, the stuff Fabian had him order wasn’t her style or the right fit.
“They would discreetly place themselves so as to keep an eye on you at all times.”
“What about on the drive over? The last time they hit me, I was still on the road.”
“Milord has taken precautions, which means that no vehicle now comes within a mile of this place without being tracked. But in case our surveillance is compromised, then your choice of car should protect you.”
“How?” It looked like a car to her, a nice one, but still just a dark four-door sedan.
“This is a custom vehicle sporting bulletproof glass and shielded panels for the body. As milord said when he ordered it, it would take a fucking bomb to open it.”
Good to know, and yet she couldn’t help but ask, “Why does it seem like you’re giving me permission to do this? Aren’t you afraid of pissing Fabian off?”
“Milord knew that you would eventually attempt to leave.”
“He predicted this?”
Fred allowed himself a twitch of the lips. Gasp! He almost cracked his implacable mien. “I don’t think your actions were too hard to predict. As such, he left me with orders that, if I couldn’t stop you, to at least ensure you did not, and please note these are his words, not mine: ‘Do something stupid that will get her fucking killed.’”
She scowled. “Is it possible to like and dislike someone at the same time?”
“Absolutely, milady.”
A laugh bubbled its way out. “Fred, if there is an award for most awesome butler ever? You deserve it.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, milady. I shall ensure you receive a ballot when the secret society of impeccable manservants has its vote.”
She could have swallowed a fly, her mouth hung open so wide. “Fred, did you just make a joke?”
“I would never dare, milady. I take my duties quite seriously.”
And he did. In short order, Colin was behind the wheel of the Lincoln, she was in the back—As is proper for milady—and teams had been sent ahead and would follow behind, none of them ever too far out of reach should her route into the city become compromised.
She wasn’t sure if she should be happy or annoyed when they made it without mishap downtown.
Is it over? Had the person who wanted her dead given up?
One road trip and five days since the last attempt was hardly evidence the threat no longer existed, but it did give her hope.
As she browsed the shops, enjoying the credit card Fred had bestowed upon her that had no limit—Ka-ching—she found herself relaxing and enjoying herself. Especially awesome was the grimace on Colin’s face when, after three hours of shopping, and an armful of bags, she paused in front of a lingerie store.
“Ooh, look at that push-up bra. I just love the lace edging. But what color should I get it in? Pink or the mauve?”
“You do realize I feel my man card disintegrating in my pocket,” Colin grumbled as she grabbed the door handle to the store’s entrance.
“Is big, bad Colin afraid of a women’s lingerie store?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t even try to lie.
She laughed. “What if I promise it’s the last store we need to hit?”
“I’d say hooray, except I fear I won’t survive the taunting by my packmates.”
“Poor baby.” But he did have a point. Dragging him inside where she planned to snag some practical items like underpants and bras seemed cruel. Not to mention embarrassing, especially since a few of the sexier items—that she could totally picture Fabian peeling from her later on—had caught her eye.
“Listen, why don’t I pop in and get started while you drop that load off at the car?”
“I’m not supposed to leave you.”
“You aren’t entirely. You can see the shop door from the car. If any guys go in, then make sure you wag your furry tail back here pronto.”
“I don’t wag.”
“Fine, you slink with rabid purpose. Whatever. I don’t see any big, bad thugs inside.” She pointed through the window where they could see a cashier ringing up a purchase for a woman, plus a few other feminine occupants browsing.
His brow furrowed.
“Oh, come on. Nothing’s happened. What’s the worse that could happen to me in there? Someone attacks me and strangles me with a G-string?”
“Promise you won’t skip out the back or take off.”
“I promise.” Where would she go? The only place she wanted to be now was in Fabian’s arms.
Another glance through the window, his forehead still creased as he studied the shoppers, Colin sighed. “I won’t be long.”
But he was. And she got her answer as to whether or not someone was still after her only a minute after she entered a cubicle with an armful of sexy garments to try.
It wasn’t the muttered, “Arms up where I can see them,” that made her wish she’d stayed home or the embarrassment as the flimsy nighty she held meant she stood there buck-ass half-naked in only a pair of underpants.
It was the gun aimed at her head by the blond woman who appeared under the change-room partition that made her utter, “I guess that answers one question.”
Problem was, would she live to answer any others?