“And why don’t you want her?” I asked, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“I don’t want to be with Mariah. A blood partner is for life, and eternity is a long time to spend with someone who’s just a convenient meal.”
I continued to run my fingers over his chest. “You mentioned blood partner. Is that like marriage?”
“Somewhat. Vampire rules are pretty fluid, but one thing that is sacrosanct is a blood partner. If you’re in a mated pair, you’re off-limits to others. You wear the mark of the other’s bite on your neck proudly, and you spend eternity together. I don’t like Mariah enough for such a big commitment. She’d be much better off settling with Angelo, but as long as she has the hots for me, he’s going to try to remove me from the playing field. He seems to think that if he gets rid of me, her attention will turn back to him.”
“So there’s your answer,” I said, sitting up. “You need a blood partner.”
He smiled up at me, brushing his fingers over my cheek. “I haven’t found a vampire I want to spend eternity with yet.”
Have you found a nonvampire? I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know the answer. And how could I possibly hope for Michael to think about me that way? I was kidding myself. A were-jaguar and a vampire could date, but he needed a blood partner to save him from a bloodthirsty vampire. In the morning, I’d call the agency and see if they could set him up with a female vampire. Maybe their mutual need could serve them both.
I laid my head on his chest and forced myself not to think about those kinds of things. “You’ve been all over Europe, right? Tell me about it,” I said, my throat aching. Distraction was what I needed. “What was Rome like?”
“Old.”
I thumped him on the chest. “No, really.”
“No, really. It was old. Everything smelled old. Everything looked old. That was the biggest thing I noticed. Everywhere I walked, I couldn’t help but think that thousands of others had walked there for thousands of years. It’s amazing and humbling all at once. And it’s hot and crowded and noisy, and you just don’t care, because you’re standing in the middle of history.”
I closed my eyes, trying to picture it for myself. “It sounds wonderful.”
“It was.” His hand idly stroked through my hair. “I saw the Pantheon, and the Colosseum, and the Trevi Fountain, and so many other things.”
“The Sistine Chapel?” I asked, hopeful. I’d always wanted to see that.
“Nope. Couldn’t find a night tour.”
That was disappointing. I wondered how he’d felt about his vampirism when he found that out and stroked his chest consolingly. “I bet it’s not that interesting anyhow. Tell me about the fountain instead.” I wanted to picture him there, in the midst of the crowds in Rome, drinking in the sights, blending in with human tourists, surrounded by wonders. “Tell me about all of it.”
As he thought for a moment, his hand stopped in my hair, then started again. “It’s this enormous fountain. I thought it was a pool at first, because it’s long and square like one, except there’s people surrounding it and this beautiful, ornate Baroque building right behind it. The center of the fountain is full of statues, all beautifully carved out of all this rock, and you walk up and think that you’ve stumbled upon some grotto where the gods have come to play. And it’s all lit up. I imagine it’s lovely by day, but at night, all the marble is golden and shining, and the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. There are thousands of coins in the water, and it’s amazing to think that each one represents someone who stopped by the fountain and made a wish.”
I smiled, my eyes closed. “It sounds lovely.”
“It was.”
“Now tell me about Paris.”
“Paris… wasn’t so great.”
I thumped him again. “You’re lying.”
“Maybe.”
I lifted my head and looked up at him. I raised one eyebrow. “Are you deliberately playing things down so I won’t get jealous of your adventures?”
He gave me an enigmatic smile. “Maybe.”
That was sweet of him. I laid my cheek back against his chest and gave his abdomen a hard pinch of warning. “Paris. Details. Now.”
Michael chuckled and wrapped his hand in my hair again. “When I got to Paris the first time, it was raining…”
Chapter Six
My eyes flew open, and I stared across the small room, trying to figure out what had awakened me.
Michael was still curled up against my side, his breathing soft and even. I sat up, ears straining. Someone was in the front of the shop. I’d heard the soft murmur of the butcher’s cheerful voice earlier as he’d helped customers, but it was six o’clock now, and the shop was closed.
The footsteps got closer. My ears pricked again. Maybe they were restocking the deli counter from the stuff in the freezer? As I listened to the footsteps, I noticed a pattern. Two steps and then a soft rap-rap. It happened again, and then again. My skin prickled with awareness.
Two steps, rap-rap. Two steps, rap-rap.
I slid from the bed and placed my ear against the door. Two steps, rap-rap.
Someone was knocking on the walls. I tensed, my predator instinct fully alert. Whoever was on the other side was testing the wall every few feet.
A pause, then another rap-rap. Then I heard the door to the antechamber slide open.
A growl formed low in my throat, and I swallowed it, but I allowed the claws forming at my fingertips to emerge.
The footsteps entered the small antechamber adjoining our safe room and paused again. I heard beeps as someone punched at the keypad. A pause, then a few more beeps. Then swearing and the punching of different buttons, phone buttons.
With my excellent hearing, I could hear the conversation through the phone.
“Angelo Gaston’s office,” said a cheerful voice.
“I found the place,” the intruder said, and I caught a whiff of a dog scent. My fists clenched. The werewolf a**hole had tracked us down.
“Excellent,” the woman said. “Did you get him?”
“He’s in a panic room. I need the pass code.”
“I don’t have it.”
I nearly sighed with relief.
“Then get it for me,” the werewolf said, surly.
“Mr. Gaston won’t be awake for at least another hour or two,” she said sweetly. “Shall I leave him a message?”
He swore softly under his breath. “No, no message. I’ll call Taylor when his naptime is over.”
“Very well, Mr. Anderson,” she said, and the call terminated.
So the wolf was Anderson, the vampire hunting Michael was Taylor, and they were going to descend on us like vultures as soon as it was time for the vampires to wake up.
We had to get out of there. As the man paced on the other side of the door, I crept back to Michael’s side and tugged his clothes out of the pile on the floor. I’d dress him, and as soon as he was awake, we’d get out of there. Maybe head to another one of his safe houses or go to my house, at least for some clothes. We just had to go somewhere else—I didn’t care where.
I dressed him as he slept, edging first the underwear and then the pants up his legs. The button-up shirt was a bit more work, but I managed it, keeping my movements as quiet as I could. I kept glancing at the clock as I worked, waiting for the time to click over. What time did Michael wake up? Six? Six-thirty? Seven?
Outside the room, the man leaned against the door, whistling. He thought he was going to wait for the goddamn pass code and flush us out, but I wouldn’t give him that chance.
I straddled Michael’s chest and put my hand over his mouth, anticipating his awakening. I must have sat there for ten minutes, staring intently down at him, waiting for the flutter of his eyelids.
A few minutes later, his eyes flicked open and dilated, staring up at me. I leaned over him and pressed a finger to my lips, hoping he’d be awake enough to understand.
He paused for a moment, then nodded. I felt his teeth elongate against my hand at the same time that I felt his erection swell against my hips.
I leaned down to his ear, whispering low enough that the werewolf wouldn’t be able to detect my voice. “There’s a werewolf on the other side of the door. If he hears us, we’ll lose the element of surprise.”
I removed my hand, and he reached up to grasp the back of my neck, pulling my ear down to his mouth. “That’s the only way out of here.”
I nodded. I knew that. I leaned in again, unable to resist brushing my tongue against the shell of his ear. “I’ll take care of him.”
He grabbed my arm as I tried to slide off him, jerking his head in a quick, angry shake. He didn’t like the idea of me taking out the werewolf? But I was the predator. I was the strong shifter. I flexed my hand, showing him the claws ready to pop out from my fingertips if I let the shift take over.
He shook his head violently again. “Ruby, no,” he mouthed.
I turned away, heading for the door on tiptoe. I kept the finger to my lips, ensuring that Michael would remain silent, even if he didn’t like my idea. Behind me, I heard his hand swish through the air, no doubt trying to get my attention and tell me what a bad idea this was.
But all of my attention was focused on the door. I could occasionally hear the wolf shifting his weight and the quiet clicking of keys on his phone. Texting? Web surfing? Getting the pass code even now?
My hand on the handle, I moved it down by silent millimeters until it had turned completely. Then I pushed the door open as hard as I could, using all of my weight to shove it backward with force.
The man leaning against it went sprawling on the other side. I heard the smack of his skull and his groan of pain as he was thrown against the opposite wall.
I leaped onto him. He’d fallen on his stomach, one hand cradling his head. I moved over his back, grabbed his hair, and slammed his head back onto the floor.