Slip of Fate (Werelock Evolution Book 1) (22 page)

His lips curved slightly as he glanced up at me, his eyes warming as they caught mine, some sort of understanding glinting in their depths.

“Would you like me to put something on, princess?”

“Yes, please.” My voice was a faint whisper. But he’d heard me, because he turned and I found myself gawking at his muscular, broad back next while he sifted through a basket of folded linens on a metal storage shelf located behind him.

Grabbing a white waist apron, he wrapped it around his midsection and tied it so that it was slung low across his hips overtop his lounge pants, effectively covering nothing that hadn’t been covered already. I felt my brows draw together and my lips purse into a pout. He gave me a toothy grin and went back to attending the stovetop.

“You should wear the hat, too,” I insisted upon eyeing a classic-looking, white chef hat that was sticking out of the top of the bin he’d rummaged through.

His brow lifted and he eyed me curiously before following the path of my pointed finger to the shelf behind him. I was sure he was going to deny my silly request, but he turned and snatched up the article I’d pointed at, slowly unfolding the comically tall chef hat and placing it atop his head. “
Satisfied?”

He looked positively ridiculous! I immediately clasped my hand over my mouth and screeched at the sight of him, swinging my legs giddily back and forth over the side of the table in a rush of girlish delight as I cackled.

He shook his head, frank eyes assessing me up and down. Then he stepped forward and plucked the wine glass from my hand, threatening under his breath, “You’ll be the one wearing this hat and nothing else later if you don’t slow it down with the wine and quit being so cute.”

Unsure of how to process the way my lower region warmed in reaction to his remark, I chose to ignore it. Alex emptied the rest of my carbonated wine concoction down his own gullet and set the empty glass atop the prep table.

The steaks appeared largely uncooked still as he removed them from the cast iron pan, setting them aside onto a serving plate. I estimated he’d cooked each side for no more than a few minutes.

Reducing the gas flame, he tossed butter, fresh rosemary, and several peeled, whole cloves of garlic into the skillet. The scent of rosemary, butter, and garlic simmering in the pan drippings was divine. My eyes glazed over with undeniable longing when Alex ultimately drizzled the buttery garlic rosemary sauce over the undercooked steaks.

Setting the serving plate next to where I sat on the countertop, Alex grabbed a fork and knife, cut a small piece of the heavenly-scented rare meat, and offered it up to my lips.

Though I was desperate to taste it, I shook my head in denial. “I really can’t eat that; I haven’t had meat in six years, Alex. I’ll get sick.” My stomach growled its disagreement.

“You won’t get sick. I promise.”

I made a childish whimpering sound, my mind and my body torn.

“C’mon, you have to at least try it. I made it for you,” he beguiled in a seductive whisper, “… and while wearing this stupid hat you forced on me.”

The guilt tactic proved the final straw to break my shaky resolve.
It was my
Catholic girl curse.

I opened my mouth and let him feed me the bite of steak. My eyes rolled back in my head and I moaned as the soft, buttery meat virtually melted in my mouth. It was pure perfection!

I gazed dreamily back at Alex and found him waiting, another bite of meat poised on the tip of the fork, ready for me. He seemed so genuinely thrilled that I liked it, I reasoned there was no way I could refuse a second bite.

So I didn’t. And I even let him feed me a third bite before politely prying the fork from his fingers so that I could shovel the meat into my own mouth at a less leisurely pace.

“Maybe …” I granted with a sheepish smile, my mouth half full of meat, “… maybe I could just have a few bites?”

“Maybe.” He was beaming from ear to ear as he resumed his command of the stovetop and set about cooking the remaining four steaks.

“I don’t understand this, though,” I mused aloud halfway through my rib-eye. “I don’t even like meat.”

“Baby, you’re smelling fear and hearing your own heartbeat as a temporary side effect of the blood transfusion. I’m sure the meat cravings will pass as well once my blood works its way out of your system.”

I hummed in agreement. Although I still had many questions to ask surrounding the whole werewolf blood transfusion deal, I wasn’t too keen on talking about it while I was enjoying the best barely cooked steak my vegetarian taste buds had ever sampled.

“So … so, do you have many enemies?” I chose to blurt instead, circling back to our previous gangster line of discussion.

He barked out a laugh as he flipped a steak over. “Well, let’s just say not everyone gets my brand of charm. But to be fair, most of my enemies have never gotten the best hug of their lives from me either.”

I swallowed noisily in an attempt to avoid choking. “I did
not
say, err—
think
that it was the best hug of my life!”

“Oh, that’s right,” he conceded with a lazy grin, “but only because you felt deprived of touching me back.”

“
Nooo
,” I corrected again, “that’s
not
what I thought either!”

“Uh-huh … whatever you need to tell yourself, princess,” he patronized, giving me a playful wink that reminded me of Alcaeus.

“Do you think I could see Alcaeus today?” I asked the moment the thought popped in my head. “And Remy and Alessandra?” I added eagerly.

Alex’s playful expression vanished. “We’ll see.”

“
Please?
I’d really like to visit with Alessandra,” I confided. “Perhaps talk to her about Raul? And I simply have to thank Remy for his thoughtfulness with my luggage!” I gushed. “It was super-considerate of him to think of me like that.”

I might’ve imagined it, but I could’ve sworn I heard a faint, extended growl over the sound of sizzling steak at the mention of Remy’s kindness.

“We shall see,” he reiterated noncommittally, pinning me with a firm look that said the discussion was over for now.

I decided not to press him further. After all, he hadn’t said no.
And he made a really great raw steak.

“Could I have some water, please?” I asked upon consuming my last bite of steak when I saw Alex headed in the direction of the row of refrigerators.

I’d managed to eat a whole rib-eye all by myself in the short time it had taken Alex to finish cooking the remaining steaks. He had since moved on to the task of gathering and chopping vegetables and mixing salad oil.

“And maybe another fizzy glass of wine?” I called out as I watched the graceful, mesmerizing beauty that was his retreating form.

I saw the back of his head nod in accord before he opened another refrigerator. He stood in perfect profile to me just inside the open door, his arm draped over the side while he leaned forward, scanning the contents of the fridge.

I couldn’t say for sure how such a thing had ever happened, but somehow, at some point I’d become so fixated on the shape of his rear in profile that I hadn’t even noticed it when he’d apparently spoken to me. I burned in mortification when a high-pitched whistle finally startled me from my obvious ogling, drawing my wicked eyes up to his.

“Would you prefer flat or sparkling water, sweetheart?”

One glance at the self-satisfied smirk on his arrogant face confirmed my worst fear.
He’d totally caught me checking out his ass!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I stared back at him with wide eyes. Time stood still while my heart raced, my own blood drumming deafeningly in my ears.

Alex was in front of me seconds later, laughing as he coaxed me to breathe and stop panicking. He told me I was being far too self-critical and promised that everything was okay, assuring me that he was well used to being objectified and wasn’t the least bit offended by my salacious gawking.

“But this isn’t like me,” I maintained, swatting his shoulder. “Something’s wrong. I don’t do that. This isn’t normal.”

“Mm, pretty sure my ass garners that reaction from most women, so I’d say you’re perfectly normal, in fact.”

I groaned and shoved against his chest. “I seriously cannot stand you!”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he agreed with a laugh, stepping back from my flailing arms intent on whacking him. “Give me one more minute and then we’ll go outside and eat, okay?”

Without waiting for my reply, he dashed to the chop block where he’d been preparing our salad and recommenced dicing vegetables at such a blurred speed it was difficult for my eyes to follow his movements.
Show-off
.

I remained miffed and steadfastly refused to be impressed even as he began tossing ingredients over his shoulder and catching them in the large serving bowl behind his back without looking.
Idiot
.

“You’re ridiculous, you know?” I told him. “Now you’re just being lame.”

That got his attention. He set the bowl down and turned his full focus on me, his expression serious.

“Ridiculous, eh? Lame, huh?”

Oh, my—I’d challenged him.

Before I had time to utter a half-assed apology, he’d begun juggling large metal spoons and spatulas for my amusement. I was soon giggling and clapping despite my intention to stay mad when he started humming the classic circus theme song to go along with his antics. He looked so humorous in his absurdly tall and incongruously formal white chef hat, juggling utensils while bare-chested and barefooted in the kitchen.

When he added knives to the mix, my reaction alternated between sucking air through my teeth and shrieking as he worked his way up to five large knives and the speed at which he was rotating them became too fast for my inferior human eyes to follow.

“
Meu Deus
!”

The shocked male voice surprised me, making me jump in my seat as my head swiveled to what looked to be the real chef of the house, judging from his attire, standing inside the kitchen doorway. Alex didn’t miss a beat, though, and he never faltered in his juggling.

“What?”
he barked rudely, his dark eyes briefly abandoning their focus on the circle of rotating knives above his head in order to glare at the intruder. “Never seen an Alpha in a chef hat juggle knives before? Get the fuck out of here!”

The man blanched and babbled apologetically, first in Portuguese and then in English, seemingly for my benefit, as he gave a quick nod of acknowledgement in my direction before bowing and backing out through the door in which he’d entered.

“Wait!” Alex called after him just as the door shut. The man reappeared. “Bring the lady a glass of flat water and a DRC red wine spritzer.”

“Right away, my Alpha,” he ingratiated, moving hurriedly through the kitchen to do Alex’s bidding in such a nervous manner it was upsetting.

And as the man maneuvered his way around the far side of the prep table at Alex’s back where he’d been assembling our salad, I noted several distinctions about the anxious chef. Unlike most of the occupants I’d encountered thus far in Alex’s home, he was older. He wasn’t beautiful.
And he was human
. I realized it was his scent more than his appearance that had tipped me off to that last fact.

I hopped off the table, ignoring Alex’s childish knife display in favor of chasing after the intriguing older gentleman as he headed toward the refrigerators.

“Sir, it’s okay, I can get it myself,” I said as I caught up to him. I barely had time to see him return the sweet smile I’d offered with a look of abject terror, before I was grabbed about the waist and thrust behind Alex’s back.

“You are not to speak to her.”

“He didn’t!” I defended. “I spoke to him!”

As I squirmed and twisted my body against Alex’s hold, my ire rising as I endured listening to the poor man apologize yet again for doing nothing wrong, my mouth gaped open as I happened to glance behind me and note that the knives still hung in the air all by themselves where Alex had been juggling them—although they had ceased moving.

“Let me go!” I pounded my fists against Alex’s back. He ignored me, speaking to the man in Portuguese now. I caught Mateus’ name in the man’s response, further piquing my interest in him. I just knew he’d said something about me in connection with Mateus!

“I’m Raul’s half-sister,” I called out over the barricade of Alex’s shoulder. “Did you know my brother and his father, Mateus? I’m being held hostage here,” I prattled foolishly for good measure. “Will you please pass along a message to Alcaeus to come see me?”

Alex’s arm tightened around me, and I found my face mashed into the middle of his rock-hard back when he yanked me closer. As my nose and mouth pressed up against the smooth skin along his spine, my lips and tongue inadvertently tasting him while my nose delighted in his intoxicating scent, I momentarily forgot to struggle.

Compounding my temporary confusion was the fact that his taut, rounded ass cheeks were also now pressed solidly up against my stomach.
And oh, dear Lord, they were better formed than even my previous ogling session had determined
.

I froze against him, baffled as to how and when I’d become such a pervert. An innocent man was being chastised for being kind enough to attempt to bring me a beverage. And here I was becoming engrossed in Alex’s obnoxious, sex-walking physique again.

I resumed my struggling and tossed out what I hoped would be the magic words. “Alex, you’re hurting me!”

I was released. And I nearly fell backwards onto my ass, but Alex’s hand shot out behind him to grab the front waistband of my jeans just before I lost my balance, steadying me back onto my feet.

“Alex, you have the most atrocious manners of anyone I’ve ever known!” I reprimanded, trying to work my way around him to the mysterious human chef he was shielding from my view. “You just attacked the man for no reason, and the way you order people around is despicable.”

Alex pulled me into his side, locking his arm around my shoulders so that I couldn’t move an inch, but affording me a view of the gentleman he’d been hiding at last.