Chapter 6
Edwina
Lying together in each other’s arms, we enjoy the relative silence. The more time I spend with Hank, the more I want to know him on a deeper level. Not since Cash have I wanted to share things about myself. It’s always been my experience that humans and supernaturals alike take details and twist them for their own benefits.
But not Hank.
Of course, I remind myself to be careful. Falling for Hank would completely wreck me. The fact that he hasn’t claimed his mate yet makes whatever we’re doing foolish. What if he finds her while we’re together? I can’t… I won’t let another selfish male own my heart when he’s not offering his in return.
“Angel.” Hank kisses my temple.
Depending on when such a kiss is given, it can be an innocent gesture or the prelude to something more. I’m hoping for the first one. Nothing heavy comes with simple actions. “Huh?”
“What’s on your mind?”
Time to deflect. Sharing my thoughts might just make Hank run for the door. I’ll try an innocent question. “Why do ya call me Angel?”
Ever since our first time together, Hank has referred to me by the nickname. I’ve never asked him about it.
Hank adjusts his arm around me. “Because being inside you is like entering the gates of heaven. You cleanse me, purifying me of my sins. Afterward, I feel worthy again. It’s as close to a celestial experience as I’ll ever have.”
Damn. I asked, and the cat came deep. No one would have told me Hank could be so profound. Dragging the sheet with me, I sit up.
“Hey, what’s wrong, Edwina?” Concern oozes from his voice, and the mattress dips as he moves closer.
I swallow hard as his hand snakes around my waist. “I’m not a saint, Hank. I’ve never been anyone special.”
Nobody special…
Ancient words that have cut me to the core for three centuries. Rich men and poor ones have attempted to wrap the insult in charm and even humor. No matter how they threw at me, it always left a mark. Later, when I became undead, supernaturals hurled the same damned phrase at me—you’re no one special, Edwina. Problem is when you hear something long enough—often enough— you start to believe it. Embrace it as if it truly defines you.
Hank kisses my shoulder. “If I wanted a saint, I’d go to church. I’m here with you. You’re the one I want.”
For now.
“Why?” I say over my shoulder. “Any future with me is doomed. Council won’t approve it. Hell, I can’t even give ya children.”
Hank exhales. “Angel, kits are overrated. If I really want to be a parent, if you want to be a parent, there are little ones out there needing homes. As far as the Council goes, fuck ‘em.”
Images of myself in bed with wraiths, wolves, and some of the other shadier demons in town make me laugh. Being with Hank is odd enough for me. “I’d rather not.”
“You know what I mean.” Hank faces me. “Hey, neither of us knows where this thing between us is going. Let’s not start planning for a future together right now. We’ll take it one day at a time. Okay?”
“Okay.” Can Hank’s words keep my heart from being broken all over again? I don’t think I’ll survive another disappointment. As a human, I spent too much time being shunned because of my sex. Pushed aside because of my witchcraft. Relegated to the gutter because of my skin color. None of that changed when I became undead. In fact, it got worse. Frankly, I’m tired of all the bullshit. Maybe, just maybe, Hank might be different.
“We’re good?” he prods.
“No.” A smile curls my lips. His promise from earlier comes to mind.
“No?” Hank rubs the back of his neck. “What do I have to do—”
“Ya promised to take me out if I could still walk.” Clutching my side, I try to contain my laughter. “I assure ya I can walk just fine.”
Hank lets out a huge breath and collapses on the bed. “I swear, Angel, you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”
I lean over him. “Are ya taking me out or not?”
“Where do you wanna go?”
“Take me dancing. I haven’t gone in ages.” I drag the sheet off my bed and wrap it around me.
He pushes himself up on his elbows. “And where shall we go to do this dancing?”
I purse my lips and narrow my eyes. “Were ya serious about giving the finger to Council?”
Hank’s head bobs. “Hell, yeah.”
“Then we go to the Red Room.”
It’s a nightspot located next to the Palladium. To be honest, we should leave town and have fun at a real nightclub. But if Hank is serious, then we make a statement. Starting tonight.
Hank’s brow wrinkles. “You sure you want to go there?”
“Yes.” I start dancing to a beat in my head. “Council members frequent the place. Humans go there, too. I’m sure. That is if ya not afraid to be seen with me.”
I’m caught off guard as Hank yanks the sheet and pulls me toward the bed. I land on top of him. “You don’t get rid of me so easily. Put your dancing shoes on, vamp, and let’s go.”
I quirk an eyebrow up. “Shouldn’t I wear more than just shoes?”
He smacks my ass, the sound resonating through the loft. “Question me again, and there’ll be more.”
I brush a hand across my stinging skin. “Don’t tempt me. Ya might find I like it rough.”
A deep rumble comes from Hank as I push off him and go to my closet.
The Red Room is Falls Creek’s poor excuse for a nightclub. Basically, it’s a bar with an area for dancing. Red booths and glass tables surround the perimeter of the reflective floor with red lights bouncing off the surface—hence the name of the club.
Eyes, from the long line snaking around the building, land on us as soon as Hank opens my car door. We walk past the crowd. Hank says something to the bouncer, and we head inside the building. I can feel the man’s eyes on my backside as we pass.
Inside, people dance to the latest Majid Jordan tune. I can’t help wiggling my hips to the beat. Hank rests his hand on my lower back, and we walk toward an empty table. He flags one of the scantily-clad waitresses as we sit down.
The loud music and people talking jar my senses. Hank speaks, but I don’t understand a word he says. Closing my eyes helps me focus. Now I can hear him clearly.
“You okay, Angel?” His breath fans across my cheek.
I lean into him. “Yes. It takes a minute for me to get used to the noise. Let’s dance.”
The handsome shifter stands and leads me to the floor. The beat is perfect for a little closeness. Hank’s hands go to my hips, and I rock back and forth as we perform our own little two-step. Eyes locked on one another. Blocking the world out. And that’s when I hear it.
“What are they doing here?”
“You’d think they’d stick to their own side of town.”
“Shouldn’t he be out searching for bad guys or something?”
No matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore the hate-filled words. Stopping in my tracks, I scan the room, searching for the owners.
“What’s wrong, Edwina?” Hank pulls me closer, nearly causing me to fall off my stilettos.
“I need to set somebody straight,” I hiss.
“Let it go, Angel. I don’t care what anyone says. We have every right to be here.” Hank wraps his arms around me and continues rocking side to side. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “If you want to leave, however, we will.”
I take a deep, calming breath. “Ya right, cher. I asked to come here. Let’s go back to the table.”
We’re about to sit down when my favorite Kid Cudi tune starts playing, and I lead Hank back onto the dance floor. For a large cat, Hank can dance. He moves behind me, and we fall into step together. This time when the voices float to my ears I smile. This male is mine for as long as I want, and haters won’t change that.
You hope.
I’m enjoying myself when I notice Luc and Inès enter the room. The scowl on his face screams disapproval.
“Ignore him, Angel,” Hank says into my ear. “You’re here with me.”
Luc, however, doesn’t stop staring. A few gossipy females crowd his table, filling him in on our activity. Deciding to give them something to watch, I grind my ass against Hank’s crotch.
“Naughty, Angel. Two can play at that game, though.” Hank turns me around, and we start bumping and grinding right on the dance floor. I step back, and he grabs my hand. I shimmy my shoulders, shake my ass, and gyrate toward him.
“Shameless.”
“He’s supposed to be an officer of the law.”
“This isn’t a strip club.”
“I heard that’s what she used to do at one point in life.”
Hank tugs me to him and stops dancing. “You’re right. We need to set the record straight.”
He wraps an arm around my waist and leads me over to Luc’s table.
“Evening, Edwina,” Inès says as the music dies down. “Hank, I’m sorry to hear about your brother’s troubles.”
“We’re headed to New Orleans to check things out, but I’m sure Tyson’s fine.” Hank’s gaze locks onto Luc. “We need to come to an understanding.”
“We do?” Luc sniffs at the glass of brandy placed before him. Most vampires don’t indulge in social drinking. The taste of alcohol sickens them. But Luc has always been different. I think it’s his ties to an original sire that allows him to embrace some of his former humanity. “By all means, join us.”
Hank’s grip tightens around me. “I don’t think so. Get the message out to your flunkies. Edwina is with me. Anyone who harms her, threatens her, or says any shit to her will answer to me.”
The music stops, and everyone—the DJ, the servers, and the patrons—stand around, focused on our conversation.
Inès’s eyes, fixed on me, widen, but it’s Luc who speaks. “You do know any relationship between the two of you is forbidden by Council?”
Hank drops his hand and leans over the table, stopping inches away from Luc’s nose. “Council can go fuck itself. Harm her and see what happens.”
“Might I suggest the two of you consider making New Orleans a permanent visit. The NOLA Council might be more amenable to your situation,” Luc says calmly.
I notice Hank’s hands curl, claws poking forward. I tug on his sleeve. “He’s not worth it. Take me home.”
There’s so much of Hank’s stuff stashed at my place I guess he could call it his home too.
A thin smile crosses Luc’s face as he listens to my thoughts. “Living together? You’re compromising your position with the FCPD. I think we should consider a replacement.”
Now I’m the one seeing red.
“Council never wanted Hank representing them,” I say directly to Luc’s mind.
“You miss the point, as usual, Edwina. We need an impartial being on the police force. Not someone who is easily duped or swayed by a quick fuck. How do we know we can trust either of you?”
“Let’s go. Now,” I demand. “Luc, ya have heard our travel plans. I’ll let ya know if we come back.”
My heels, clicking across the empty dance floor, sound like bullets as I storm toward the exit. Hank hurries behind me. I don’t speak, however, until we’re in the car.
“Council wants ya off the force,” I spit out.
Hank cranks up his car and pulls out of the parking lot. “How do you know that?”
“Luc told me. He said neither of us could be trusted. He said ya weren’t impartial.”
Hank slams his fist on the dashboard, making me jump. The car shudders in response. “I know what this is about.”
“What?” I’m still fuming over Luc’s insult.
“Remember me telling you about Jackson Ryder?”
“The panther who killed ya sista?”
Hank side-glances at me. “Yeah. I never served time for his death. Judge ruled it self-defense though. He said I was protecting Jenn. But Ryder’s family swore they’d get even with me.”
“There aren’t any Ryders on Council.”
“No, but they have a link within the FCPD.” Hank steers the car around a corner and away from downtown Falls Creek.
“What kind of link, Hank?”
“About a year ago we got a new police chief. He’s the first supernatural in the position.”
A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. “Who is he?”
“None other than Jackson’s father.”
Fuck it to hell!