Chapter 14
His smile flayed her every time. Tori pushed unruly hair back from her face and moved to help Adam make breakfast. The sheer domesticity of the moment caught her in the chest and sent warning throughout her body. Her entire life she’d been able to keep men at a distance, where they should be. Always.
Adam didn’t like distances. He hadn’t told her that, but it was clear from the way he acted.
She cracked eggs in a bowl. “How much danger am I in from the Council?” she asked.
He placed bacon in a pan. “I’m not sure. We don’t kill humans. But with Peter in charge, if we don’t mate, there might be a death sentence over your head.”
The guy didn’t pull any punches, now did he? She tried not to rub the bite marks in her neck. Every time she touched them, a small electrical zap wound through her body. When Adam had touched them, she’d nearly dropped to her knees. Even now, her sex felt uncomfortably swollen and needy.
Which seemed impossible after the night they’d shared.
“So, ah, is there an out from the mating?” she asked, starting to whisk the eggs, curious about this huge world she hadn’t realized existed. “I mean, say we mate. Then can we unmate?” The idea blazed a high voltage inside her, and she tried to cover the reaction, to hide her need, by focusing on the eggs.
“No. Mating is for life,” he said, turning bacon over. The delicious smell filled the small cabin. “Not only that, but a mated person can’t be sexual with anybody else. There’s an allergy, a horrendous one, that instantly pops up.”
Man. If fate landed you with someone against your will, what a bitch. Forever with Adam? He wouldn’t accept less than all of her, and she didn’t know how to do that. Worse yet, she didn’t know if she could. After her father had betrayed his two girls by being an asshole drug dealer, she’d never looked at men the same. Being well aware of her own issues didn’t make them any easier to overcome. “It seems like you immortals, considering you’ve had forever, would’ve figured out a way to negate a mating,” she mused.
He sighed, his impressive back muscles moving. “Supposedly there’s a virus that negates mating, but it has never been used when both halves of a couple are still living. It has only been employed with widows or widowers who have been bereaved for quite a long time. So if we mate, it will be forever, Victoria. Don’t even consider otherwise.”
Her breath felt funny. Too hot. “Are you thinking about mating me?” She shook her head. “You’re not, right? I mean, you can’t be.”
He turned, his lips twitching. “Don’t look so terrified.”
“I’m not,” she burst out, panicked, maybe. There was a moment during the night, when she was orgasming so hard she might’ve gone blind, when she would’ve let him mate her. “It’s just, how can you be considering it? While I don’t know you very well, you don’t seem like the type of guy to let anybody push him around.”
He finished cooking the bacon and reached for the whisked eggs to pour into the pan. “I don’t do very well with orders, that’s true.” He started scrambling the eggs. “Yet, I’ve been thinking.”
Her gaze was caught by the interesting play of muscle in his back, in his shoulders, as he cooked. “That can’t be good,” she murmured.
He barked out a laugh. “Well, maybe not. But here it is. I don’t want a death sentence on your head. Or mine, for that matter.”
“I thought you were thinking of taking out the Council,” she countered, warning whispering over her skin.
“Aye. Even so, there will be members of our nation who won’t like that. Maybe even part of the Guard. We’d still be in danger.” He scooped eggs onto a platter and turned back to the table. “Plus, there are other considerations.”
Her head dropped, her eyes opening. “Such as?” Had her voice trembled on that?
“We’re good in bed. I like that. You’re smart, spunky, and holding a shitload of issues.” He frowned. “I don’t like that last part.”
She shook her head, seeking reality. “Excuse me?”
“I can deal with it, however,” he mused, almost to himself. “Your sister is immortal, and I’m sure she’d like you with her. Honestly, it isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Uh.” She couldn’t find words. Drawing out a chair, she flopped into it. “You’re crazy.”
“No. Think about it.”
Her head spun. Or maybe the world was spinning too fast. Yeah, that could be it. “Listen, Adam. What about marriage? Heart strings? You know, love.”
He pinned her with a sharp look. “You’d let yourself love somebody?”
She blinked. “Maybe. Someday.” Yeah. She figured she’d love somebody someday. And she definitely wanted kids. So far, her rioting feelings for Adam Dunne, even outside of the bedroom, were the closest she’d come to exploring her heart. Her gaze narrowed. Oh, he was dangerous. There was no doubt. “What about you? No love?”
He dished out the food. “Well, I believe in the concept. But among my people, until very recently, most matings were arranged. You know. Alliances and such.”
“Lexi and Kellach weren’t arranged,” Victoria protested.
“I said until recently,” Adam said, pouring orange juice for them both. “We’ve entered an era where passion and love seem to be taking over. It’s just temporary, I’m sure.”
Whoa. Here she’d thought she was a little clueless. “Let me get this straight.” She took a deep drink of the orange juice, pleased there was no pulp. “You’re considering mating me for convenience because my sister is immortal, you don’t want to die, and I’m a good fuck?”
He blinked slowly and set down his drink. His eyes glinted with raw intelligence, and his lip curled. “I don’t believe I like the description you just gave.”
“It might not be all classy and sophisticated like your fucking vocabulary, but it’s an accurate rephrasing,” she snapped.
He took a bite of bacon, chewing thoughtfully and watching her. “What’s your problem with class and money?”
“Most people with money are assholes,” she retorted.
“Interesting.” He drank more orange juice.
She kept hold of her temper, more confused than angry, which just pissed her off more. “Answer me. You’re considering mating me for eternity to avoid a death sentence, keep my sister happy, and because you like fucking me.”
He leaned toward her, all male, all determination. “In a word? Yes.”
* * *
Adam rode his brother’s Harley down the long drive toward Titans of Fire headquarters, noting the scattering of pine needles across the road. Wet pine needles. The autumn had been brutal, and if this was a sign of the winter to come, he wanted to be out of Seattle by that point. The question was, would he be taking Victoria with him?
He still had doubts, but oddly enough, he wasn’t as concerned as he’d been earlier. At first glance, Victoria was young and reckless with a side of immaturity. But getting to know her, just a little, had shown him the woman held depths he might never truly plumb. She wore her wildness like a shield and her defiance like a sword. He’d read a complete dossier on her the second Kellach had become interested in her sister, and he knew all about her past with a drug-dealing father who’d abandoned her.
What the file had neglected to show him was the softness of her skin or the sweetness of her taste.
Yet he could not allow anybody to force him into a mating.
He swallowed and pulled his bike up next to a large building. Titans of Fire holdings consisted of buildings forming a square that included two large garages and a sprawling clubhouse complete with a myriad of bedrooms. He parked the bike and strode through the rec room, wincing at the smell of beer and puke . . . and possibly piss. What a shithole.
Through his years, he’d visited many a motorcycle club, and most were fairly clean. Not this one. Not even close. A member wearing a cut was passed out in the corner, black permanent marker all over his face in a design that looked like a fish. A couple of bras hung from lights in the ceiling, and one was big enough to hold watermelons. Frowning, he stepped over a pile of glass, a baggie of pot, and several mismatched boots of different sizes. What kind of a party had recently gone on, anyway?
Shaking his head, he wound through the hallway to the only conference room. Inside, three men were already seated. Pyro sat at the head, his beer belly protruding over his too-tight jeans. Jamm, another middle-aged man and a recently paroled felon, sat next to him smoking a cigarette. The third man, this one with a long white beard, sat on the other side of Pyro. Ziggy. His name was Ziggy.
Adam closed the door and leaned back against it. For the meeting, he’d worn an old Grateful Dead shirt, even older jeans, and his leather jacket complete with Fire cut. He couldn’t wait to burn the damn thing.
“Where the hell are your brothers?” Pyro snapped. He’d earned the name because he loved fire.
“Unavailable,” Adam said easily, trying to banish the smell of tequila and sweat from his nostrils. “Where are your Enforcers?” Fire had two of its own Enforcers, but last time he’d seen one of them, the man had been facedown in a pile of coke.
Pyro snarled, flashing his cracked gold tooth. “They’re out on assignment.”
Sure they were. “All right. Is it time to elect a new VP?” Adam asked, keeping his expression stoic.
Jamm’s head jerked up and swung toward Adam. “Excuse me?”
Adam shrugged, measuring the temperature in the room. Heated, hungover, and pissy. Yep. Just what he’d expected. “We all miss Duck, but we need a full Board.” Nobody missed Duck. The guy had been a colossal asshole as well as Pyro’s nephew. He was dead, and the club really did need a VP. “I meant no disrespect.” Had he? Aye. Definitely.
“We’ll get to that later,” Pyro sneered. “For now, I want to know where your brothers are.”
“Underground,” Adam said easily. Oddly enough, truthfully as well. “They’re wanted by the authorities in Dublin, and it got too hot, even here. So they’re gone. Not coming back.”
“You’re not wanted?” Ziggy asked, his tone nasal.
“Not yet,” Adam said.
Pyro studied him for a moment with bloodshot eyes. “Looks like we’ll need more Enforcers. However, you can now tell me when my guns will be here.”
Adam held his gaze. At some point, they might have to actually give the jackass some guns. “The guns are ready. The minute you deliver Apollo to us, we’ll hand them over.” It was the initial deal. “Where are the drugs?”
“I’ve ordered the quantity you want. Friday is the date,” Pyro said easily. “Are you up to it?”
“Aye,” Adam said. He had to figure out where the damn drugs were coming from by Friday. “Who’s the manufacturer?”
Pyro shook his head. “Not something we’re sharing. The name is irrelevant.”
Ah hell. Fucking Pyro didn’t even know the guy. Or rather, he didn’t have a clue who he was dealing with. It figured the mastermind of the whole disaster wouldn’t just give his name to Pyro. “This meeting is irrelevant.” Adam pushed away from the door. His whole undercover op with Fire was irrelevant, damn it.
Pyro halted him with a hand. “Adam, we have good intel that the Grizzlies are starting to run Apollo and compete with us.”
“No, they’re not,” Adam said, holding on to his temper with both hands. There were many things in life that irritated the shit out of him, and having somebody else waste his time was at the top of the fucking list. “You’ve had a hard-on for the Grizzlies for too long, and each time we go to fight them, something goes seriously wrong.” Usually Alexandra and the cops showed up, which was fine with Adam. “The Grizzlies aren’t into running drugs.”
“They are now,” Jamm said, flicking cigarette ash on the tiled floor. “One of our skanks bought from a Grizzly member two nights ago. Said the guy’s name was Chuck.”
Who the hell was Chuck? “How does she know he’s Grizzly?” Adam asked.
“Wore a cut at Mondo’s bar in Grizzly territory,” Jamm said, his voice hoarse. He took a deep drag on his cigarette, turning the tip bright red.
Adam eyed the man from beneath heavy lids. “What was one of our women doing in Grizzly territory?” he asked softly. He just couldn’t use the word skank.
“Trying to score Apollo,” Pyro snapped. “Shit, you’re dumb. We’ve had skanks all over town trying to see if anybody was horning in, and guess what? They are.”
How the hell was that possible? No way was Bear selling Apollo. “I’ll investigate the issue,” Adam said tersely.
Pyro’s eyes gleamed. “That should be easy for you to do, right?”
Warning ticked down Adam’s back. “What do you mean?”
“You were at a party there last night.” Pyro’s gold tooth gleamed.
Adam straightened away from the wall just as Jamm pulled a gun, leveling the barrel at his chest. A bullet from the Ruger SR9 wouldn’t kill him, but fuck, it would hurt. And if Jamm aimed for the head, it’d take months for Adam to repair his brain. “What in holy hell are you doing?” he snapped.
Pyro drummed his beefy fingers on the scratched wooden table. “Waiting for an explanation. What were you doing at a Grizzly party last night?”
“Are you having me followed?” Adam growled, going on the offensive out of instinct.
“No, dipshit. We were watching the Grizzlies,” Pyro said, his chest puffing out. “You have two seconds to explain, or Jamm is going to blow your head off.”
Wonderful. A head shot. “Fine,” Adam said, keeping his gaze hard. “I was in Grizzly territory getting my old lady.”
Jamm kept his aim steady. “He did leave with a bitch.”
“She’s mine,” Adam growled, measuring the distance between them. Even if he jumped, he’d most likely get shot at least once.