Chapter Ten

Zoey glided to a stop in front of the warehouse on Lombard where Cin and her friends were staying now.  She had a big box of pastries, and a mission. Lorenzo was travelling to the Bianchi Pack’s territory to hang out with Cin, and Zoey had to report back to Andrea that Lorenzo was all right.

Lorenzo was supposed to look for a job, since he wasn’t taking computer classes any more, but he spent all his time hanging out with Cin instead.  Stewart had offered him an apprenticeship at his carpentry shop, but Lorenzo had turned it down with a sullen shrug.  Andrea was so worried about Lorenzo and his crummy attitude and his new friends, that her sunny nature was dimming.  And Stewart was so upset by it that he wasn’t even punning any more.

Zoey, who had been working at the messenger service non-stop and sleeping in the tiny crash-pad, only knew all this because Danielle had called her up to complain about it.  “I thought that his puns were the worst thing in the world, but actually, Stewart being too depressed to pun is even worse.  He looks like a basset hound that somebody kicked. Fix it!” she’d complained to Zoey.

Zoey didn’t have the first idea how, but she at least could deliver the box of donuts and apple turnovers that Andrea had baked.

Dominic had done yet another disappearing act, which made her nervous.  She was constantly checking over her shoulder as she worked.  She’d been in touch with Cin the whole time, and he hadn’t seemed to be trying to track her down, at least.

Cin, Lorenzo, and Heath were sitting on empty packing crates in front of the warehouse, waiting for her.   The rest of the kids were gathered around a makeshift burn barrel stove, roasting hot dogs on sticks. She handed them the box of pastries, and they tore into them enthusiastically.

Cin, as usual, was wearing gorgeous new jewelry that looked out of place with her ragamuffin clothes, and which she couldn’t possibly have afforded on her own.  Her necklace and earrings were dragons sculpted from silver wire, with little red flames.

“You have excellent taste in shoplifting,” she said to Cin, who shrugged cheerfully.

 “Mmmf fd bff cmfl,” Cin said to Zoey, around a mouthful of donut.

“Say what now, girl who was raised in a barn?”

Cin chewed and swallowed, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You should be careful. Have you heard about the ghouls? Word on the street is that they ate some guy.”

Zoey frowned. Frequently the street kids heard things before anybody else did.  On the other hand, they were an excitable bunch, like teenagers generally are, and they also spread a lot of rumors.

“Wouldn’t that be on the news?” she asked skeptically.

“Not always.  Sometimes the police hide it because they want to make sure poor people get eaten,” Lorenzo said loftily.

“Says who?”

“Says Cin.”

Cin nodded vigorously.  She was already on her second donut.  “My fremfs up norf tole me,” she mumbled, crumbs falling out of her mouth.

“Maybe you guys should move farther south,” Zoey said uneasily.  It was possible that they were right, and the news had been suppressed so that tourists wouldn’t be scared off.

“Into the fancy areas? No way,” Cin shook her head.  “Too many cops.”

 “We’ll be fine,” Lorenzo said confidently.  “If any ghouls come near us, I’ll kick their skinny behinds.” He reached into the pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out a pair of num-chuks.

“Do I want to know where you stole those from?” Zoey asked.

Lorenzo smirked. “I don’t know, do you?”

Zoey tried to grab his donut away from him, but he dodged her easily.

“Prison’s not going to be as much fun as you think it is.”

He smirked at her with all the confidence of a teenager who knows everything. “I run fast.”

Cin shrugged, going for casual.  “It’s not so bad. Three hots and a cot.”

 There was no point in arguing with an infatuated kid who was trying to show off for his larcenous crush.  “Be careful, then.  Lorenzo, you need to go home after this, Andrea is going to worry if you don’t. I’ve got to go,” Zoey said. “I’ve got a final job this evening.  Peace out, juvenile delinquents from hell.”  Zoey climbed on her bicycle.

“Later days, naggy old woman.” Cin gave her a sarcastic mock solute.

“Naggy, I will accept with pride.  But old woman? Ouch. Just for that, stale donuts for a week.  Not even kidding.”

“Wait, you are kidding, right?” Heath called out after her.  “Hey, I’m not the one who called you old! Cin gets the stale donuts, I get the good ones! Right?” She waved goodbye as she peddled away.

As she wove through traffic, she tried not to think about ghouls, which was about as effective as trying not to picture a pink elephant in a tutu.  Would Cin and her friends be safe? What could she do to make them safer?  Nothing, really.  They were like semi-feral cats.  She couldn’t make them go stay in a foster home.  The local authorities had enough on their plate dealing with semi-regular magic attacks. They wouldn’t be bothered trying to corral a group of throwaway kids, and Cin and Lorenzo would be miserable at a foster home anyway. And they’d just run away again.

There was a package already waiting for her at the dispatch center.  She had no idea what was inside, and she didn’t ask.  She just stuffed it in her bag and zipped across town to the restaurant.  Or, she was reasonably zippy.  There were more obstacles than usual in her path – there had been ever since that whole weird wolf thing with Dominic.  Was that just a coincidence? She was getting so used to it now that she barely even noticed, she just went whichever way the little GPS in her head told her.  Often – like this evening - the obstacles moved with her, trying to cut her off, which almost certainly meant that they were related to Dominic.

She still made it to the restaurant 15 minutes early.  It was a little hole in the wall Italian joint, her favorite kind, and as she walked in, the smells made her stomach growl. 

The restaurant was packed full, but she had been directed to go to a small room in the back.  She pushed open a creaky wooden door and, clutching the package, stepped into what seemed to be an empty room.  There were half a dozen tables in there, all set with red and white checked plastic table clothes and lit by flickering votive candles.  As she stepped into the room, someone shut the door, and when she spun around to see who it was, she bumped right into Dominic.  He was wearing a pinstriped suit and a pale blue silk shirt that made his eyes look even more beautiful, and he was in between her and the door now.

“You,” she said, clutching the package to her chest and taking a quick two steps back. “What a surprise.”

He pretended to look hurt.  “Is that any way to great your mate after a hard day’s work?”

“No,” she said flatly.  “That is definitely not how I’d greet my mate. Or husband, as we human-types say.”

Amusement sparked in his beautiful blue eyes. “Sassy.  Don’t you want to know what’s in the package? It’s for you.”

“For me?” she said, startled.

“Open it!”

She was tempted to say something snarky, but the look on his face was so expectant and hopeful, she just couldn’t.

“Thank you,” she said grudgingly, tearing at the wrapping.   Then she hesitated.  “Is this some kind of trap? It’s not handcuffs, is it?”

“No, I keep those in my bedroom. Along with some other toys.”

Damn it.  Now why did he have to go and say that? Her heartbeat sped up and she felt damp in her girly parts.

He sniffed the air appreciatively.  “You like handcuffs,” he stated.  He nodded approvingly. “Good to know.”

“Stop…stop doing that!” she sputtered, blushing so hard her face hurt.  But she also really loved getting presents, and she hardly ever got them these days, so she ripped open the package and something spilled out in a river of glorious green silk.  Her favorite color.  She held it up.  It was a stunning evening gown.

“For you,” he said.  “You can change in the restroom.  Or right here.  Preferably right here. You’re having dinner with me.”

She was about to lie and say that she wasn’t hungry, but her treacherous stomach growled.  She clapped her hand over it, as if that would help. 

“What about my bike?”

“I’ll have it brought inside and Sergio will keep it in the back for you.”

“Promise you’ll let me go afterwards?”

“If you want to go, you can go.”

She snorted.  “I’m holding you to that.” Right. She could talk tough, but if he wanted to drag her back to his lair, it wasn’t as if she could actually do anything about it.

She went into the bathroom and pulled out her phone and used the app that notified her boss that she’d delivered her package and was off for the night.

Then she stripped off her sweaty jeans and t-shirt, and slid the dress on.  Then she realized that she didn’t have shoes to go with the dress, so she was wearing a gorgeous dress with big clunky sneakers.

But she was also so hungry she could eat a hippo.  So she threw her shoulders back and strode out of the bathroom, trying to fake a confidence that she didn’t feel at all.

 “Are you sure I look…okay?” she asked, gesturing at the dress awkwardly.

He looked her up and down.

“Okay? No.  Not at all.” He shook his head.  “Not okay.”

Zoey felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach.  She hadn’t realized how much she cared about Dominic’s opinion until he said those cruel words. And she realized that she’d foolishly started to trust him in a way – she thought he’d never hurt her feelings.

The next thing she knew, her back was up against the wall, and Dominic was pressed up against her. The thick length of his erection pressed into her stomach, and he was breathing hard.

“Okay?” he repeated.  “You never look just okay.  You look good enough to fucking eat.  And believe me, that’s going to happen in a very short time.  Dinner, dessert, you.  Possibly in that order.”

“Me?” she squeaked. “But I…my hair’s a mess, my face is sunburned…”

He tangled his fingers in her shiny brown hair.  “I know,” he said approvingly.  “You look like you just rolled out of my bed.  Bedhead hair, your face kissed by the sun…”

He was bending down to kiss her when the door banged open, and the delicious smell of garlic wafted in.  A roly poly man in a chef’s apron and chef’s white cap bustled through the door.  He had a droopy dark mustache and looked as if he should be the advertisement for a line of spaghetti sauce, and he was carrying a tray of pasta dishes.

“Oh, I interrupt!” he said, in a heavy Italian accent, his eyes going wide.

“Yes, you do, Sergio,” Dominic grumbled.  Zoey squirmed in his arms, embarrassed, and tried to push him away, but it was like pushing a building.

“You want dinner, or you no want dinner?” Sergio looked comically offended. “I spend hours in the kitchen, over a hot stove, for you! You come to my house, you eat! Mangia, mangia!” He set down the dishes on a table, next to a bowl of bread and a bottle of wine.

Dominic reluctantly released Zoey, and the two of them walked over to the table. Dominic pulled the chair out for her to sit down and she tried to remember if any man had ever done that before.

“Enjoy!” Sergio said.  “And Dominic? You treat this gorgeous girl right or I steal her!”

Dominic growled.  Sergio backed up, eyes widening.  “I kid, I kid!”

“Settle down there,” Zoey said to Dominic, although she was secretly just the teeniest bit flattered.  Nobody had ever been jealous of her before.

Dominic poured her a glass of excellent red wine.  They dove into the food, and her linguine with shrimp and lemon butter was what she would have requested for a last meal.  It was heaven on a plate.  The garlic butter was tearably soft and fluffy and tangy.  For once, she didn’t feel self-conscious eating in front of a man, because he’d told her that he loved her body just the way it was, and she believed him.

They ate in companionable silence, taking their time, enjoying the food.  She didn’t feel pressured to make idle chit chat, she just savored every bite.

She smiled as she set her fork down to take another sip of wine, and Dominic nodded. “Smiling is good. Better than running from me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“It’s just nice to be able to relax and forget life’s stresses sometimes.”

“I can make all of your stresses disappear.”   She arched an eyebrow, and he grinned fiercely.  “You’re about to say, ‘So you’ll disappear, Dominic?’”

“Damn, am I already becoming predictable?” she shook her head ruefully and finished her glass of wine.

He poured her another, and then reached out and took her hand.  “I’d rather say, reliable.  Look at us, sparring like an old married couple already.”  His hand was so big it wrapped around hers, warm and comfortable like a blanket.  He grinned, flashing big white teeth.

She let him hold her hand for a minute, because it felt so good to sit there with a handsome man who looked at her with lust in his eyes even after she’d just carbo-loaded enough pasta to feed a medium sized orc.

“Damn, Sergio really is an amazing cook.  So, he’s single, you say?”

Dominic gave her a sour look, and his growl didn’t quite make it out of his mouth, but she could hear it rumbling in his broad chest. 

“Seriously.” She shook her head in wonder.  “Are you actually jealous?”

“Well, the man does know his way around a plate of pasta. Some women like that in a mate.” He looked mildly miffed.

“Yes. That is pretty hot,” she agreed, just to torture him. Then, because he was starting to look murderous and she didn’t want him to kill a man who made the best Italian food she’d ever tasted, she quickly said “Tell me more about this moon-bite thing that you keep hallucinating about.”

“Come back to my house with me and we’ll discuss it.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You keep saying that like I have a choice.” She looked narrowly him.  “Do I have a choice?”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze.  He let go of her hand and stabbed into his own plate of pasta.

“Ah, a loophole. Does this have something that with that twenty-eight days thing you talked about?” she mused. “Do I have a choice until the next full moon?”

His handsome brows drew together in a scowl.  Clearly he hadn’t wanted her to figure that out.  “Maybe.”

“So can I say no to the whole thing at any time?”

“Can you reject my wolf’s claim? Nope.” He looked annoyed. “Do you want to?”

She flushed.  “That’s a complicated question.  I barely know you, and…as we discussed, you and I have very different viewpoints on things.”

“You were upset with us because you thought we were taking your neighborhood’s money and not giving you what you’d paid for.  Understandable.  But now you know different.”

“There’s also your…methods of enforcement.”

“We defend ourselves when attacked?” he said mildly.

“And you extort money from businesses!”

“We give them protection that the police can’t.  If we didn’t protect them, they’d be the target of curses from competitors, or ghouls, or ogres.  We are willing to die to protect any business that pays us our fee.”

She was running out of arguments.  “You encourage gambling,” she mumbled.

“Ahh.  Like in Las Vegas?”

She hated how he was batting away every argument and making it seem as if they were an organization of benevolent businessmen. They weren’t! But…were they really that bad? Especially compared to everyone else who ran this lousy corrupt city? Damn it.  How was he getting inside her head like this?

She sighed and reluctantly set down her fork.  The buttery taste of pasta lingered, and she ran her tongue along her lips.  The air suddenly felt warm, and she realized that Dominic was watching her with a fierce hunger that burned away all of her defenses and nearly set her panties on fire.

I need to nip this in the bud.  She cleared her throat and squirmed in her seat.  “All right, let’s discuss this logically.  It makes no sense that you would want to hitch yourself to me forever.  I mean…wolves mate for life. You don’t know me at all.”

His eyes gleamed with amusement.  The more she resisted, the more it seemed to arouse him.  “We have all the time in the world to get to know each other.”

“And before your wolf bit me on the ass, you never even noticed me.”  Her voice was higher than she’d meant it to be, and she realized that there was a shrill undercurrent of hurt to it.  She winced in embarrassment, but Dominic didn’t seem to notice.

“The first time that you catered one of our events, you wore your hair piled up in a messy bun.” Dominic’s voice was grave and for once, that fierce gleam of humor faded and he was dead serious.  “The sun lit up your hair and made it look like rich caramel.  You wore little wire earrings with red stone hearts.”

He’d noticed all that? 

Zoey thought her heart would stop.  His ice-gray gaze met hers, seizing it, holding it captive.

“I don’t have them any more. My friend Cin gave me those. She stole them from somewhere and when I figured that out I made her take them back.” She had no idea why she said that, she was just talking mindlessly, because she was reeling from the shock of what he’d just said.

“No. She made them.  She makes jewelry.”

“She does? How do you know that?”  And why did she not know that? When she’d asked Cin if she’d stolen the earrings, Cin had just shrugged and said, “I couldn’t exactly afford to buy them, now could I?”

She felt a pang.  Had she falsely accused Cin of stealing?

His cruel lips curled up in a smile. “Knowing things is my business.”  His voice carried a dark, sensual undercurrent, carrying a veiled threat and promise that mingled together and snatched her breath away.

She shook her head, trying to clear it, but her gaze never left his.  “Are you saying you were interested in me from the first minute you saw me?”

“Entranced, is more how I’d describe it.  I saw how you carried yourself with confidence, and faced down mafia bosses even though inside, you were quaking.  I saw how kind you were to Carlo, when he couldn’t figure out how to tie his own shoelace.  You just knelt down and laced it up for him and talked about the weather, like it was all no big deal.  And then you showed him how to do it himself without making him feel foolish, and ever since then he’s remembered.  When you were in the back with the other girls taking a break, you grew flowers and stuck them in a glass of water and made that dingy little break room feel like a party.  And you made sure that everyone had something to eat before you started.”

He took a bite of pasta, casually chewing, as if he hadn’t just tossed a bomb at her that blew up her entire world.  This was even more life-altering than hearing that his wolf had claimed her as a mate. That just meant that he thought his stubborn ass was stuck with her. Now he was saying that he had actually wanted her all along.

“So why did you never make a move on me then?” she asked, her heart thudding in her chest.  She wanted to believe.  More than anything.  Not because she could ever let herself have a man like Dominic – hard, criminal, with walls around him that she’d never breach – but just because it was the most marvelous, magical thing a man had ever said to her.

“Because, as one of the highest-ranking men serving under Arturo Moretti, I am expected to mate for the good of the pack, to make a political alliance, not for love or desire.  Unless my wolf choses otherwise.”

He took a sip of wine.  “Your turn. What did you notice about me when you first saw me?”

Zoey tilted her head to the side, thinking.  “You were very handsome, and very self-confident, but not in a flashy way.  A lot of the made wolves always carry themselves like they have something to prove.  You didn’t.  You were also very alone. You stood back and watched everybody, but didn’t let anybody get close to you.”

Dominic looked skeptical. “Romano’s usually right by my side.”

“Physically.  Mentally, emotionally, you’re a million miles away from him.  And everyone else.”

He poked at the remains of the pasta on his plate but didn’t reply.  The lights in the restaurant flickered.

“Restaurant’s getting ready to close.”

“Kind of early, isn’t it?” she said, puzzled.  It was just starting to get dark.

“We’re near a vamp area.”

“Ahh. That’s right, I forgot.” Lone humans and low-level magic-bloods tended to disappear from vamp areas at night.  Rent near vamp areas was super cheap, although the price of garlic was through the roof.  It also explained why an Italian restaurant would have set up shop in this neighborhood; a meal here would guarantee a person a safe walk home, at least.

He put down his spoon.  “You haven’t had dessert.  I own this building, and I have an apartment upstairs where I crash sometimes. Come upstairs, and if you want to leave afterwards, I will escort you home myself.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” she grumbled – and she kept repeating that to herself as she let him lead her by the hand out of the restaurant, and up a flight of stairs by the side of the building