Chapter Seventeen
Constance stood under the cool spray in the most spectacular shower she’d ever been in and tried not to cry. Why she’d expected Nic to say something about their lovemaking other than asking if she was hungry, she didn’t know.
And that was a lie. She did know. She loved him, and she had no idea what he felt for her beyond wanting her. That wasn’t in doubt. What was in doubt was whether there was any true feeling behind it, or if he was only taking what was offered like any red-blooded male would.
She had already washed but was lingering, not yet ready to leave the relative safety of the bathroom. Once she stepped outside, she’d have to deal with her problems. She rested her hands against the stone tiles and let the water rain down on her. He’d already given her more than she had a right to expect. He’d healed her from her injuries. He’d told her his secrets.
“You okay in there?” The thump on the door made her jump.
“I’m fine.” She wasn’t, but she would be. She had to be strong for herself and for her sister.
The door opened and Nic walked in. She quickly turned off the water and grabbed a towel, holding it in front of her. He’d obviously showered somewhere else, as his hair was damp and he was dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. His feet were bare. Why she found that so sexy, she had no idea.
His gaze narrowed as he sauntered toward her. “No need to hide.” He tugged on the towel, but she held fast. He frowned but let her keep it. He was more than strong enough to win the battle over the towel if he really wanted to.
She was feeling vulnerable and was glad to have even the meager protection.
“Your jeans are on the bed. Your panties are shredded.” She remembered he’d been in a hurry to get her out of them. “Your other clothes are ruined, so I left a shirt for you.”
“Thank you.” How polite, how stilted their conversation was now that they’d left bed.
Nic studied her for a long second and turned to leave. She breathed a sigh of relief. She needed some more alone time to gather herself. Suddenly, he swiveled around, stalked back, and grabbed her by the shoulders. He yanked her onto her toes and slammed his mouth down on hers.
Heat enveloped her, spreading from her lips all the way down to her toes. Her bones went liquid. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she welcomed him. No matter what the future held, she’d always have feelings for Nic. It was impossible not to. From the moment he’d walked into her life, he’d changed it, and there was no going back.
The drip of the showerhead sounded like it was a million miles away. Cool air wafted over her back and legs.
Nic made a sound deep in his throat and stepped away. The towel fell to the floor, because at some point, she’d grabbed hold of his massive biceps for support. She swayed, but he kept a hold on her.
“Come to the kitchen when you’re dressed.” He spun away and stalked out, leaving her alone in the bathroom.
She brought her fingers to her lips. “What just happened?” She shuddered and then bent down to retrieve her towel. She glanced at her reflection in the large mirror over the vanity and saw her pale image staring back at her. Her eyes were wide, and her lips looked a little swollen. No wonder. The man knew how to kiss.
Constance dried off and hung the towel over the rod. Her hair was still wet, and Nic didn’t have a hair dryer lying out. She thought about going through the drawers in the bathroom, but that felt invasive. She didn’t live here. She was a temporary guest.
There was a comb sitting there, so she used that to remove the tangles. As she worked, she noticed something on her shoulder. She leaned inward and touched the red mark. It was almost faded. She touched the spot and shuddered, remembering Nic’s passion. There were scars from her wound, but they were faint. It amazed her how quickly she’d healed.
She tossed down the comb and pulled open the bathroom door. Belatedly, she checked to make sure Nic wasn’t waiting for her and was perversely disappointed when he wasn’t. “Get a grip,” she ordered herself.
She got her first good look at his bedroom. Before, she’d been injured, and then sleeping, and then making love. She went right to the bed and picked up the shirt he’d left for her. It was a lovely shade of blue and obviously one of his. The material was soft. She checked the label to find it was a linen and cotton blend. She slipped it on. It was big enough to be a dress. Heck, it was almost big enough to be a tent.
She buttoned it up and then rolled the sleeves. While she did, she looked around. The walls were natural adobe, and there wasn’t anything on them to break up the sandy color. The floor was tiled in a rich, brown tone. There was a rug in a fiery pattern of reds and oranges covering much of the tiled floor. The bed was huge and carved from wood. A long closet took up most of one wall, and a single dresser sat against another.
It was beautiful and comfortable, but barren. It made her want to cry, which was ridiculous. She slipped on her jeans and looked around for her footwear. Her sneakers were lined up just inside the door. She didn’t see her socks, so she just slipped her sneakers on over her bare feet.
Knowing he’d come and get her if she didn’t go to him, and soon, she left the room. The house wasn’t overly large, but the ceilings were high, making it appear bigger than it was. The hallway was short and led to an open room. Several sofas and chairs were arranged around a fireplace. Shelves lined the walls, giving the room a homey feel. Off to the left was a large dining table. The kitchen was just off that.
Curious to see the rest of his home, she headed toward the kitchen and the sound of something sizzling. She took a deep breath and inhaled. “Bacon.”
Nic grinned when she stepped into view. “Almost done.”
Like the rest of his home, it wasn’t overly large, but all the finishes were top quality, from the stone countertop to the large stainless steel appliances. The gas range had six burners, and he had pans on all of them. Two were filled with bacon, two had eggs, and the remaining had pancakes.
“You can cook?” She didn’t know why she was so surprised.
“I’ve had lots of time to learn, and I like to eat.” He motioned to the coffeepot. “Help yourself.”
Like a drowning victim reaching for a life preserver, she almost lunged for the pot. There were two mugs set in front of it, so she filled them both. A small glass jar of sugar sat next to them, and she helped herself. “You want yours black?” It seemed strange not to know something so basic about him, but their relationship had been anything but normal.
“Yes.” He deftly used a spatula to flip the pancakes one after another. They were golden brown and smelled delicious.
She set his mug on the counter beside him. “Anything I can do to help?”
He nodded toward a gleaming four-slice toaster. “You can start on the bread.”
She’d half expected him to tell her to go sit at the table. This was much better. She opened the loaf of multigrain bread. “How many slices do you want?”
“All of them.”
“Right.” She filled the slots and put down the lever. While they were toasting, she dug around the refrigerator and found the butter.
Since the toaster was on the counter opposite the stove, she was able to watch him. She almost wished he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. She loved to look at him, to watch the heavy play of muscles when he moved.
She swallowed back a small sound of need. Nic’s head jerked around, and his nostrils flared. The muscles in his jaw flexed. His gaze went unerringly to her breasts. They stared at each other, the moment taut with sexual tension.
Then the toast popped up and the bacon grease crackled and jumped in the pan, breaking the spell. She whirled back around and faced the counter, giving all her attention to buttering the brown bread and toasting more. When she was done, she put the platter on the table.
Her coffee was half gone, so she topped it up before wandering to the window in the dining area. The view was spectacular. It was stark but beautiful. The desert was Nic’s backyard. He hadn’t fenced in an area, hadn’t tried to tame the land. There were several benches around a fire pit and a stone patio with a small table with four chairs and a barbecue.
“Come and eat.”
She turned away from the view. Nic had placed a large bowl of eggs, a giant platter of pancakes, and another filled with bacon on the table. “Wow, that’s a lot of food.”
“I need it.” He waited until she came back and sat beside him before taking his own chair.
“Do you?” She wanted to know everything about him.
He held out the platter of pancakes and waited until she’d taken two. Then he set the platter in front of him. “Shifting takes an enormous amount of energy. Even when I don’t shift, I need more calories than a human just to function. I haven’t eaten more than a snack here and there in over a day.”
As she watched he piled bacon onto the platter. “Eat,” he told her.
Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been quite some time since she’d eaten, too. The pancakes were light and fluffy, the bacon crisp, the eggs delicious, and the toast tasty. She was finished long before he was and took the time to study him over the rim of her coffee mug.
Nic was four thousand years old. That was unbelievable, but she knew he wasn’t lying. He was a creature of myth and legend. Men were willing to kill for the opportunity to capture him.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. He glanced at her but kept eating. “I didn’t want to betray you.”
“I knew you would.” He devoured the pancakes and started on the remaining eggs.
“You knew I would,” she slowly repeated.
He shrugged. “You barely knew me, and the Knights had your sister.”
He’d expected her to betray him, and he’d still walked into the trap. “Then why did you come? Why didn’t you walk away?” He could have left her and Abigail to fend for themselves.
He finished off the last piece of toast and sat back in his chair. His eyes had never looked so dark. “Because you belong to me.”
His claim should have thrilled her, but it made the food she’d just eaten sit like a rock in her stomach. He didn’t sound very happy about that.
“What do you mean?”
He sighed and shoved his empty plate aside. “I’ve lived a very long time. And in all those years, I’ve never met a woman like you.” His gaze was solemn. “You, Constance, are a treasure. You’re also my greatest weakness, a liability I really can’t afford, but one I’m afraid I can’t avoid.”
Not exactly the declaration of love she craved. But that was little more than a fantasy. This was reality. Nic wanted her, but he didn’t want to want her.
She squared her shoulders. “Breakfast was wonderful.” She wanted to reach out to him so she clasped her hands in her lap. “How do I get back to Las Vegas?” It was time for her to go home.
…
Nic cursed himself for being so bloody honest, but he couldn’t be any other way. She had to know from the beginning where they stood. He wanted her, he craved her, but because he couldn’t fully trust her, she would always be a weakness, one he’d have to guard against.
“You can’t go back.” There was no way she’d be safe with Dent and his men out there.
She shook her head. “I have to go back. Abigail is with Mrs. Karsh and still vulnerable. I should be with her.” She glanced around. “I should have called long before now. Abigail will be worried sick about me.”
This wasn’t going to be easy. “You can’t call her.” Before she could erupt, he held up his hand. “Think. They’re going to be monitoring your phone just in case you use it. They may even be monitoring your neighbor’s phone. They have no way of knowing you and Abigail aren’t together. They’ll expect me to abandon you. They might even believe I killed you myself.”
She looked so fragile sitting there in a shirt three times too big for her. But he knew she had a core of steel, especially when it came to protecting the people she loved. He was almost jealous of her sister.
She came back for you, the voice in the back of his head reminded him. That didn’t mean she loved him. That meant she’d felt guilty about betraying him and practically handing him over to the Knights.
Constance was a good person with a huge heart, but he sensed she kept a tight hold on it, not allowing too many people to get close to her. She’d known loss at a young age. Why else would she and her sister have grown up with their grandfather?
He suddenly wanted to know everything about her.
“So what do I do?”
He reached into his back pocket and drew out his phone. “I call my contact and see if he’s found any trace of Dent.”
She frowned and sat forward, resting her elbows on the table. “He can do that?”
“According to him, he can do anything.” He hit the speed dial.
“What the hell have you been doing?” Nic held the phone a few inches from his ear. Constance raised her eyebrow in question. Even she could hear Tarrant.
“Hello to you, too. I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?” he demanded.
“Healing Constance.” He’d come so close to losing her. “I’m putting you on speaker,” he cautioned. He pushed a button and set the phone on the table between them. “Any sign of Dent.”
“Not yet. I’m monitoring the hotels, but he might have an apartment or house somewhere. Definitely using an assumed name. Without a phone or a vehicle to track, I’m running blind.”
“What about my sister,” she demanded. “I need to talk to her.”
“Use Nic’s phone. That’s protected.”
He wanted to hit his brother. Then it occurred to him that he was being incredibly selfish. He didn’t want Constance to have contact with anyone but him, didn’t want her to love anyone but him.
Wow, talk about a moment of clarity. One he could have done without, since it didn’t paint him in a very favorable light. He really was a bastard.
“You’re sure it would be okay?” Constance asked. “I don’t want to put her or Mrs. Karsh in danger.”
“Your sister is at your neighbor’s house?” There was disbelief in Tarrant’s voice.
“I figured they might look at our place but would think it unlikely I’d stash her with the next-door neighbor.”
“Gutsy.” Nic could tell Tarrant approved. “You should be fine to call her. Tell her to stay inside. And whatever she does, she is not to go next door, not until this is done.”
Constance shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Will this ever be done?”
“Yes.” It was a promise from the depths of Nic’s soul. Whatever it took, he’d make it safe for Constance and her sister to go home. “Keep me posted.”
“I will,” Tarrant promised. “But be careful. The Knights are smart, and they’ll be looking for you.”
“Later.” Nic ended the call and then pushed the phone toward her. “Call your sister.”
…
Constance didn’t have to be told twice. She grabbed the phone and dialed Mrs. Karsh’s number. It rang once, and her stomach began to churn. If something had happened to either of them, she’d never forgive herself.
On the second ring, a familiar voice answered, and Constance released a huge sigh of relief. “Mrs. Karsh. It’s Constance.”
“Where are you, girl?”
She glanced at Nic. Since he hadn’t asked her to put the call on speaker, she assumed he could hear it all. “I can’t say, but I’m safe.”
“What is going on? Abigail said something about an accident with the van, but I don’t believe that for one minute. The girl could never lie worth a damn, and you’d never have left her here all night without a word.”
“It’s probably safer for you if you don’t know.”
Mrs. Karsh snorted. “Girl, I’m almost seventy years old. I’m past the age of playing it safe. Besides, I’ve got the pearl-handled pocket pistol my husband gave me for a wedding present loaded and ready.”
That made Constance smile. She could depend on Mabel Karsh to protect Abigail. She also owed the woman an explanation. “Let’s just say I bought something at an estate sale that some rather nasty people want.”
“Why don’t you just give it to them?”
“I would have, but they abducted Abigail.” She glanced at Nic. He was frowning, which made him look both handsome and forbidding. “Their plans changed. If they get what they want, I don’t think they’ll let either Abigail or I live.”
Their neighbor made a small sound of distress. “What are you going to do?”
This time, Constance stared Nic straight in the eye. “Whatever I have to in order to keep Abigail safe.”