Why couldn’t he take what she so blatantly offered? She was hurt, and vulnerable. Any other woman, any other time, and he wouldn’t have thought twice. A wicked voice hissed inside his head again, sending a shiver of something foreign slithering down his spine.
My woman.
Cole’s heart pounded inside his chest, need surged through his veins. His fangs lengthened, slicing at the inside of his lower lip. Wrapping her in his strong arms, he pushed her head against his shoulder, tilting his own head back against the cushions.
Alex murmured a disappointed protest, but settled against him nonetheless. Cole’s blood pounded in his ears, throbbed in his rigid erection. His nostrils flared. He could smell her arousal, could
feel
it, and he gritted his teeth, fighting through it, keeping his lips clamped tight to hide his huge fangs. He could do nothing to hide the burning, glowing need in his eyes…or the rigid bulge in his jeans.
Not soon enough, Styx pushed his way into the study, a cell phone pressed to his ear and a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Yeah, ok… No, no I don’t think so. I’ll…”
His words trailed away as he caught sight of Cole’s face…the sight of Cole’s eyes and the trace 120
of crimson on his lips. Styx’s startled gaze flew to Alex’s neck, then back to Cole’s mouth. Snapping his attention back to the man on the other end of the line, Styx muttered, “Sure, sure… We’ll see you in a few.”
Styx snapped the phone closed, and sat down in the low table, facing the sofa. When he reached for Alex, a snarl, instinctual and possessive, rippled through Cole. The Spaniard’s hand froze mid-stretch. He blinked, then withdrew his hand with extreme care. Leaning back, he tossed the bag of peas to Cole. “Put that on her cheek for the swelling. Tommy said he’d be here in less than half an hour. He’s bringing the doctor with him.
Has she lost consciousness again? Does she seem confused or disoriented?” Then his eyes lingered on Cole’s bloodstained lips once more. “
Madre de
Dios
, you didn’t…”
“No!” Cole snapped, but heat rose to his cheeks. His voice was low, the look in his eyes one he knew Styx had never witnessed, at least not in him. “She hasn’t passed out again. But, I don’t think she’s functioning at full capacity just yet.”
Styx frowned. “What do you mean?” To Cole’s chagrin—and, he was certain, Styx’s eternal amusement—Alex gave a soft little sex kitten purr. She snuggled against Cole’s side, dropping her hand squarely on Cole’s straining zipper, rubbing the bulge suggestively. She couldn’t have stunned either male more had she just plopped a live grenade in the middle of the room. “Cole has the sexiest tattoo. Kiss me again, Cole. I
sooo
like it when you kiss me…”
“I see what you mean,” Styx managed between loud guffaws.
Cole groaned aloud, shifted on the sofa with a pained grimace, and grabbed her wrist, pinning 121
her questing hand against his chest. He shot a warning glare at the laughing Styx, and, with a warning flash of fangs, snapped, “Don’t you have something else to do?”
“No, no,” Styx cooed, smirking with poorly feigned innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you in your time of need. She looks like she could be a real handful,
amigo
.”
“Get. Out.
Now
,” Cole barked, turning the full impact of his fury on the drummer.
“I’ll bring the doctor in when he gets here.” Chuckling, Styx stood up. “Oh, ah, by the way…you got a little, just there.” He tapped the corner of his mouth.
As Styx closed the door behind him with a soft chuckle, Cole licked the blood from his lips.
Tipping his head back against the cushion again, he closed his eyes, praying to every god he could think of for patience and control. Alex squirmed against his side, rubbing her breasts against his ribs. She nipped playfully at his neck. The sting of her teeth on his skin sent another ferocious wave of desire rolling through his system, cranking his blood back up to a hard boil.
122
Fortunately, the doctor arrived sooner than expected. Unfortunately, he determined Alex did indeed have a concussion, recommending she not sleep for at least six to eight hours. Which, of course, required close monitoring.
Someone would have to spend the night with her.
The aging doctor reassured Cole her odd behavior was a temporary side effect of the concussion, and that she should be back to herself in no time at all. He left his personal number with Cole in case Alex suffered any further symptoms later on, checked her eyes once more, and then left.
Cole disentangled Alex from his arms and pushed to his feet. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he helped her up, guided her down the halls until they came to her door. Inside, she headed for the bedroom, but he took her by the shoulders, turned her and pushed her toward the bathroom instead.
“Why don’t you go in and take a shower,” he suggested, thinking he could use a few minutes to get his body back under control. He had a feeling he was going to need every precious moment he could steal if he was going to spend the rest of the night with her and not give in to her involuntary seduction.
Licking her lips, she raked hungry eyes over him, hot and greedy. “I like the sound of that. I can’t wait to see you naked and covered in soap 123
bubbles…”
He groaned, racked with the image of
her
—naked and covered in soap bubbles—and he broke out in a cold sweat. Loki take her, how much more could he endure this night before he caved? Cole propelled her into her bathroom and closed the door behind her with a definitive click, muttering to himself in the ancient language of his birth.
He waited for a few minutes just outside the door. As soon as the showerheads turned on, he prowled across the room, restless and edgy.
Dropping onto a chair in the farthest corner, he stared,
tormented
a
nd unmoving, at the
bathroom door. She was in there. Beyond that thin slice of wood. Removing her shirt. Sliding those snug shorts down those delicious legs. The steaming spray of water would slide over her skin, glistening and…
Snarling a tight curse, he pushed to his feet and rushed from the room before he gave in to the temptation to join her.
Cole jogged to his room to grab his own shower—an icy cold one—and a quick shot of blood—also cold—before he returned to her. By the time he got back, less than fifteen minutes later, barefoot and clad in a muscle shirt and worn sweats, his body and his control were back online. For the most part.
He’d assumed she’d be done when he got back, and worry rushed through him when he entered her room after a light rap, only to find her still ensconced in the bathroom. Cole crossed to the door of the bathroom and knocked. When he received no answer, he twisted the knob and eased the door open a crack. Wild honey scented steam rolled through the opening. The sound of running water pattered like gentle rain on the 124
tiles and his imagination ran away with him once more.
“Alex,” he called. “You okay in there?” A startled oath slipped from her lips and a plastic bottle collided with the floor. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Easing the door shut, Cole let out a long, trembling breath, unsettled at how his worry had cranked back up to full throttle. He crossed the room and flopped onto the sofa, flipping the TV
on. He did a little channel surfing while he waited, wondering what in the name of Valhalla he was going to do with her for the rest of the night.
Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be spending the night with her in the way he’d envisioned…every day since he’d first laid eyes upon her. Not while she was hurting. There’d be time for those things…later. He glanced at the clock and groaned. Only seven hours of torture to go.
Rolling his eyes, he clicked the remote.
The bathroom door opened behind him, and he turned to glance over his shoulder. His breath caught in the back of his throat. Alex stepped through the door, her hair hung in damp strands of gold down her back. A thick white terrycloth robe clung to her damp curves, hanging just past her knees. Her feet were bare, and her dainty toes winked candy-apple red nail polish. Her skin was a radiant, scrubbed pink, all except for her injured check, of course, which was fast approaching purple now. The doctor had cleansed the wound, but the scratch remained, vivid and enflamed. The sight of that mark upon her flesh filled Cole with a second wave of fury. The urge to lock her away and keep her safe at all cost was becoming harder to deny.
The minute their eyes connected, Alex’s blush 125
spread clear to the roots of her hair. Her mortified gaze slid to the floor. She stepped closer to the sofa and cleared her throat. Drawing a deep, bracing breath, she squeaked, “Cole, about earlier…”
He said nothing, blinking up at her as he waited patiently. The curl of his lips ruined his attempt at innocent serenity.
Her gaze slid away again, and she cleared her throat once more. “I owe you an apology,” she began, toying with the robe’s belt. “I was unprofessional and out of line. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll blame it on the blow to the head…”
His lips twitched, but he managed a straight face. The humor in his voice was beyond his control. “Don’t worry about it.” Nodding, she turned away and began walking to her bedroom. She stopped just over the threshold, however, when Cole called her name, soft and low.
“Oh, Alex…” Cole waited until their eyes met to finish, his grin was wide, suggestive. “Just so you know—I
so
like it when you kiss me too.”
****
Alex’s mouth fell open and her eyes rounded, shame surged heat into her cheeks. Unable to respond, she stepped back and slammed the door between them, desperate to drown out the dark tumble of Cole’s laughter. The door was no barrier at all. She glared at the panel of wood for a moment, frustrated…mortified, then yanked the robe off and tossed it on the foot of the bed. Shaking her head, she dug in the chest of drawers, pulling out an old pair of boxers and a plain white v-necked tee with a shrug. If she was going to be up all night, she may as well be comfortable. Her one 126
concession to propriety’s sake was the white satin and lace bra.
She tugged the brush through her hair, over and over, then slathered moisturizer on her skin.
Eyeing herself in the mirror, she heaved a resigned sigh, certain she couldn’t put off facing Cole any longer. She stepped back into the living area, head held high. Her shoulders were squared, her chin elevated, prepared to face her humiliation. Instead, she received another surprise.
Cole sprawled on her sofa, a huge tray sat on the table before him, filled to overflowing with an odd assortment of food.
“With all the excitement earlier, I wasn’t sure if you’d had time to eat, so I figured I’d just have a little something sent up,” he offered by way of explanation.
Some of the starch
went out of her spine, and she cracked a small
smile.
“That was
very…considerate. Thank you.”
“I’m trying to butter you up.” He grinned, offering her a can of Coke and half of a thick ham and cheese sandwich.
Her brow puckered and she hesitated. “Why?”
“I don’t want this mess to scare you off,” he admitted, shooting her a probing, entirely too serious look.
“We agreed to three weeks,” she reminded him, dropping down to sit beside him on the sofa.
Alex tucked her bare feet up underneath her, adding, “This wasn’t your fault, Cole, and it didn’t change anything.”
His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head.
“And then?”
“And then, we’ll see.” She gave him an ambiguous shrug, taking the sandwich and the Coke from him.
127
He drew an annoyed breath and leaned back, slinging a long, muscular arm over the back of the sofa behind her. His powerful legs stretched out in front of him. His tawny hair had begun to curl as it dried. He smelled of soap and shaving cream with a light trace of spicy cologne. Alex did her best to focus on the sandwich in her hand.
She could have been eating cardboard, for all she could taste of it. Oh, dear God, was she about to suffer through a second wave of hallucinations?
“So,” he drawled, toying with a damp tendril of her hair, winding it around his fingers as if
savouring
the texture between thumb and forefinger. “Got any suggestions for the rest of the night?”
The way he played with her hair was doing funny things to her insides. His words brought images to mind—very dark, very erotic images—
that burned her cheeks. What was it about this man that made her walk around looking like she had a perpetual sunburn all the time? Her gaze flickered away from his face, unable to meet his eyes, and she tipped the soda can to her lips, buying time.
“You know, I’m sure I’ll be just fine. You don’t have to stay.”
“No way,” he argued, shaking his head. “You heard the doctor. You’re stuck with me
all
night.” Cole cleared his throat then, as if he too suffered unmanageable thoughts, and this time, he was the first to glance away.
“We can watch TV for a while, but I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep on you before too long,” he warned.
“Yeah,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think I’d do so well there either. Don’t suppose you play chess?”
“Actually I do.” His eyes lit up at the unexpected boon. “If you promise not to fall 128
asleep while I’m gone, I can run to my study and get the board.”
Grinning, she crossed her heart and shooed him on his way. Alex finished off her sandwich and the Coke while she waited, and reached for a thick slice of chocolate cake. She
was
on a vacation of sorts, after all.
Alex was just taking her first guilty bite when Cole returned. She set the cake down, licking the rich icing from her lips. “I shouldn’t be eating this.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” he swore and grinned as he knelt beside the table.
“Here,” she offered, holding a bit of the gooey confection on the end of the fork for him. “You didn’t eat anything earlier, and I won’t feel guilty if I don’t eat the whole thing by myself.” Cole eyed the cake and grimaced. “No, thanks. That stuff would…mess with my system.
You go on and eat it though. Everyone’s entitled to a little guilty pleasure now and again.” His smile grew, wide and loaded. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
She shot him a questioning look, but she settled back against the cushions without an argument. Cole set the board up and arranged the pieces. Taking him at his word, she finished the cake off,
savouring
the last smear of frosting with lavish pleasure.
His hungry stare followed every move she made. “By the gods, what I wouldn’t give to be that fork right now.”
She gaped at him, astonished. Before she could comment, he turned away, centering his focus on the chessboard.
In the arena of chess, they were evenly matched. As the hours stretched on, they relaxed into each other’s company. The conversation 129
flowed easy between them, and Alex was surprised to find herself having a thoroughly enjoyable time. They talked of their careers and their ambitions, of their likes and dislikes. It was natural, ordinary—a connection neither of them had enjoyed in a very long time.
As Alex moved her queenside bishop into position and exclaimed checkmate, Cole leaned back against the sofa, grinning.
“You cheated,” he accused good-naturedly.
Her eyes sparkled. “Prove it.” From there they moved on to discussing a few of the songs the band was working on, talking shop for the next several hours. Somewhere, over the course of the evening, Alex let her guard down, allowing him a rare glimpse of vulnerable trust.
As the night pushed on to morning, and the hour approached dawn, they ended up side-by-side on the couch. Cole flipped on the television, and a blood-curdling scream filled the room. Alex leaned closer to the screen, peering with undisguised interest at the programming.
“Oooh,
Nightmare on Elm Street
,” she exclaimed after a few seconds. She wrinkled a brow, assessing, and added, “Part two…Freddy’s Revenge.”
“Oh, no,” Cole groaned, rolling his eyes for effect. “
Please
don’t tell me you like those
movies.”
She narrowed her eyes in mock threat. “What do you mean by that…those movies?”
“Freddie movies…” He wrinkled his nose with transparent mock distaste, and pointed at the blood-splattered screen. H
is tone was sarcastic, clearly
unimpressed.
“Those things are
so…unbelievable.” He adopted a whiney, high-pitched tone, and blathered, “Oooh, I’m so scared.
130
I’m going to try to outrun this freaky, deformed monster who has to manufacture his own claws.
Oh no, silly me, I forgot I’m wearing ridiculous high heels and now I’ve fallen down. Now, I’m just gonna lay here and scream my head off, as if that’s going to make him change his mind about killing me…”
Alex gave him a stern look of reproach and shoved at his shoulder. Then, giggling with wicked delight, she watched another gored victim fall beneath Freddie’s tender mercies. “They’re
classics
!”
“No way,” he shot back, lifting a
condescending brow. “If you want a classic, you need to think
Halloween
, or
Texas Chainsaw
. Of course,
The Howling
series is a big contender.” She blinked up at him, intrigued. “The what?”
“
The Howling
,” he repeated, then gaped at her as if she’d crawled out from beneath a rock.
“Don’t tell me you watch horror films and you’ve
never
seen a
Howling
movie. Gods, where have you been, woman? There were what, six or seven of them…at least. It was this series of Werewolf movies from the eighties. Now, those were classic.”
Settling back onto the couch, watching the movie with half an eye while discussing the finer points of horror films, Alex shivered. As though the maneuver were totally natural, he drew her unresisting form against his side, reaching behind them to retrieve the chenille throw.
Turning on the couch, he reclined, propping his large feet on the table as Alex snuggled against his chest, curling up in his arms. He did his best to debunk her misguided theories on gore and dismemberment, while she scoffed at his far out theories of creatures of the night. Where did he get this stuff? They debated the scare power of 131
Vampyre versus Werewolf, and, tucking her beneath his arm, he rested his cheek on the crown of her head.
She drifted to sleep with a smile on her lips, and hopeful possibilities filling her dreams.