CHAPTER NINE
Richard knocked—ridiculous, given the situation—and opened the door. She was staring at the ceiling, and didn't look at him when he came in. He nibbled his lower lip and tried to distract himself from the sight of the lovely Jane, spread-eagled on his bed. It was amazing—he'd just spent over an hour with her, but he could have taken her at this moment. And again. And then again.
He was carrying a tray full of savories. She smelled it and sat up as much as her bonds would allow. "Feeding time at the zoo," Jane said moodily. The spot on her thigh where he'd fed from her was purpling. He stifled an urge to kiss it, and beg her forgiveness. She lied, he reminded himself. She would have left you to die and never thought of you again. Your plans for her were nothing compared to hers for you.
"Oh, hush. No one in a zoo eats so well. See? Lobster bisque and biscuits and a steak and milk and if you eat everything and still want dessert, chocolate ice cream."
"That's a ridiculous amount of food," she said, staring at the tray.
"I've seen you eat, my love. I'm going to let you out of your bonds, but before you hit me over the head with the tray and flee for the hills—“
“Naw. I’m gonna drag your ancient ass down to the kitchen and drown you in lobster bisque.”
“—I should explain that there are no fewer than three bolted doors—all sturdy English oak—between you and the street. You'd never get through them all before being caught. And you must be starving. Surely it's more prudent to maintain your strength while plotting revenge."
She drummed her fingers on the bedspread and stared up at him. Her eyes went narrow and flinty, but at last she said, "I'm starving."
"Eat, and then a hot bath...sound good?"
"And then what?"
"And then agree to be my wife."
"Don't," she practically snarled. "Don’t start with that again."
"Ah, a blushingly modest bride, how refreshing. I can see you're contemplating homicide—try not to spill the soup."
He set the tray down on the table, and unsnapped her ankle bonds. Then he seized the footboard and tugged the bed away from the wall. She could have done the same thing herself, but couldn't help but be impressed—not bad for an undead monkey. He walked to the headboard, reached behind it, and in a few seconds had her wrists freed. She was off the bed in a bound, pulled the shreds of her clothes off and let them flutter to the floor, then made a beeline for the tray.
"I brought you a robe—"
"Who cares?" she said with a mouthful of biscuit. "You've already seen me naked."
"Uh—" You're gorgeous. You're distracting. If you prance around in that lush and lovely body you'll have your hands full. You have soup on your chin. "As you wish."
He sat down across from her and watched her eat. She ate like a machine, taking no obvious enjoyment from the meal. Refueling, the better to kick his ass. Well, so be it. He deserved that, and more. And he was a fast healer. Let her do her worst.
"Why did you break our date?" he asked abruptly, and surprised even himself—he had no idea he was going to say such a thing until it was done.
She grunted irritably. "We've been over this."
"Jane..." Again, he had no idea what would come out of his mouth, but plunged ahead anyway. "Jane, if you tell the truth, I'll unlock those three doors and escort you back to your hotel. Just admit that you were afraid of me, that you were only pretending to accept what I am, and—"
Her gaze locked on his like a laser. "My name is Jane Lupo," she said coldly. "I'm not afraid of any man. And. I. Don't. Lie."
He actually felt the chill coming off her. Ludicrous. She was half his size, even if she had twice the mouth. Her gaze was odd, almost hypnotic, and being the object of her full focus was unsettling, rather like a cat’s. With difficulty he broke her challenging stare. "Well," he said at last, "you’re not the first to come for me, or to set others on me.”
“Yep, you’re right. In fact, you’ve got it all figured out, Dumbass McFuckface. There I was, minding my own business, when I saw an ad in the Globe and went for it. Wanted: random person to kill vampire nemesis, paid holidays, inquire within. So I grabbed my handy-dandy stake, and came to town.”
There was a looong pause, followed by, “Uh, so as I was saying, perhaps you can understand why I have difficulty believing that your 'boss' would insist on your free time—“
“Yeah, because all bosses are all reasonable all the time, and in the history of labor, no boss ever asked a subordinate to work on a weekend.”
She’d thrown him off his stride yet again. It was as aggravating as it was interesting. “—and why you would have to drop everything and rush to meet him at a moment's notice."
"Pack rules."
"Beg pardon?"
"Pack...rules...dumb...fuck. Am I stuttering? I'm a werewolf. My boss is the head werewolf."
He laughed, then ducked as her soup bowl sailed over his head. Empty, he noted—she was angry, but she wouldn’t waste food. "Oh, come now, Jane! When I challenged your lie, that was not a cue to come up with a less plausible falsehood! Because you know I am a vampire, you've decided I'll believe that you're a werewolf? I'm that gullible? There's no such thing, and you know it well."
"Says the guy who claims to be a legendary bloodsucker."
“I never said legendary,” he chuckled. "Nice try."
"If you could think about something besides your dick for five seconds—“
“I’m not only thinking of your, er, charms, but also where we should honeymoon.”
“—you’d see it makes sense. My strength, my speed..."
"All well within the range for homo sapiens...albeit the high end," he admitted.
"You've been dead too long, Dick. The average homo sapiens can barely lift the remote control. My rich blood? That's from a diet high in protein. A lot of it. And raw protein during the full moon."
"Ah, the full moon. It's a few days away, but I suppose I had better take care when—"
She slammed her fork down; the table trembled, then was still. "The full moon is five days away. And when it comes, you're going to get a big fucking surprise. Your little oak doors won't hold me then. I'll be out of here—possibly eating your head on my way out—and you'll realize you fucked up, bad. You'll know I was telling the truth the whole time, but you couldn't see past your stupid injured male pride. I'll be gone forever, and you'll have the next hundred years to realize what an asshole you were."
This was so convincing, he actually panicked for a moment. He didn’t think she was a werewolf, of course, but was she perhaps suffering under a delusion?
Before he could discuss it further, she stopped eating, walked to the bed, got under the covers, and faced away from him the rest of the night. She never said another word, or looked at him, not even when he returned to tempt her with a brimming bowl of frozen custard.
“Chocolate?” he wheedled.
Nothing.