“Oh, my God, thisish sogood,” she mumbled with a mouth full of food.
Brayden watched her but didn’t say anything. With the last bite gone, she fell back in the padded seat and pressed a hand to her belly. Amazing, but apparently food had the ability to make everything seem so much better than it really was. Like she was under some kind of food high, because she couldn’t help smiling at Brayden. Her shoulders sagged, beyond relaxed, and her whole body had the lithe, puddingy feeling to it, like she had too much water in her.
“I feel great.”
“That’s the alcohol speaking.”
She leaned an elbow on the table, grinning madly and rested her chin on her hand. She loved the two points at the top of his lip, the long path of his nose. “Oh, really? And it doesn’t happen to be because I just ate the best enchiladas ever?”
He didn’t crack a smile. “I’m sure they tasted good, but no, it’s the alcohol. The margaritas here are somewhat famous for having a good bit of alcohol in them.”
She closed her eyes and slumped in her seat. “Mmm and damn good, too.”
She must have had her eyes closed for more than just a second. A warm hand curled around her shoulder, and a finger slipped across her collarbone in a single caress. Her eyes jerked open, then up to find Brayden there. And she’d never heard him move.
“Come on, it’s time to get out of here.”
She took his hand so he could help her up, which was good, because apparently she needed it. The room spun a full 180-degrees before it settled back again. And she could still feel his touch on her bare skin, minutes after he paid and tugged her out of the restaurant. She hopped into the car, bouncing in her seat with her hands tucked under her thighs. Brayden’s big body curled in next to her and she wished there wasn’t a console separating them. A pretty night like this, with good food and booze in her belly, she wanted to curl up against him with his arm wrapped around her shoulders and her head on his shoulder and just drive.
Of course, that was crazy thinking. They took off down the road with him firmly stuck in his seat, minus the seatbelt, and her firmly in hers, plus seatbelt. Lykaens could take a good beating, but they weren’t as impermeable to damage as vampires were. They lived long lives if some untimely death didn’t catch them, but even they needed seatbelts. A shiver raced through her. Her cousins had seen just how fast a car crash could steal life away when they lost their parents.
“I’m calling your father in the morning, then we’ll go see the human from the accident.” He flicked a glance at her and his brows pulled low. “Why are you staring at me?”
She laughed; okay, maybe it was more of a giggle. She tucked her left leg up under her right one then turned in her seat with her back to the door. “I was just thinking how your beard grows in fast. You’d just shaved it and already stubble is coming back.” He looked real good with that bit of stubble.
He ran a hand across his cheek as if to confirm this, then shrugged. “Guess it does.”
“I like it.” Maybe it was the way she said it, which may have been breathless, or the fact that she leaned forward in her seat toward him, but he shot her a look so hot she almost moaned. That wasn’t even a lie; she almost actually moaned at the look. A look that said he could tear off her clothes and be inside her in less than thirty seconds if he wanted to right now. And that he really did want to.
Her heart pounded way too hard and fast. She pressed her hand to it and took a deep breath. Only after his gaze returned to the road did her heartbeat return to normal. But the evidence of his scathing look still lingered with her, in her wet panties.
“What happened in the office?” he asked.
God, she really didn’t want to talk about that. She still didn’t know if it’d been her overactive imagination or really Joseph. It could have just been another Justicar looking for Brayden, or the janitor walking down the hall. But then, what had made me so scared? She screwed her eyes shut and expelled those thoughts. Joseph wasn’t going to ruin her good mood or any more of her life. She’d already let him do that for two years. No more.
“Nothing, just let myself get spooked. You know, I think you’re one of the few men who’d look really hot with a beard. I’m not talking ZZ Top beards, but a short one.” She sighed as the picture of him with a crisp, short beard came to mind. Yup, hot shit.
He didn’t say anything, and a little while later they pulled under the detached garage port. He let her in the house then headed to his office, manila envelope tucked under his arm, without a word. Well, that was that, she guessed. Did her hot beard comment set him off or something?
She must be stupid, or at the very least, overly emotional, because when he closed the door without a word, her heart actually felt squeezing pressure over it like some weight sat on her chest. Yup, it was stupid and silly, but it hurt her feelings. Cursing him with every bad name she knew, she treaded up the stairs and stopped at the hallway to her door. Actually, it felt like something stopped her, some instinct. She stared at her door, thinking through slow alcohol-muddled thoughts, then it hit her. When they’d left that morning, she hadn’t closed her door, but it was firmly shut now. A soft laugh escaped her. Gail must have been up here cleaning.
She let out a deep breath then opened the door. She hit the light, but didn’t go inside as her narrowed eyes surveyed the room. Empty, nothing. Her bed had been made and some of the clothes must have been washed because they were stacked neatly and folded on her dresser.
“God I need a shower,” she mumbled and headed for the dresser. She found even more clothes in the dresser drawers all smelling of lovely fresh lavender and folded into little squares. She had to remember to thank Gail, because she’d done all of her laundry, even washed the new clothes she’d just bought. Okay, that Brayden just bought.
She grabbed a T-shirt and pair of undies from the dresser, then stopped. A cold sweat came over her. Her chest pulled tight, making it hard to breathe.
“Brayden,” she whispered. Then louder, “Brayden. Brayden! BRAYDEN!”
Booming footsteps from the stairs sounded, hammering in time to the beat of her raucous heart. “What the fuck happened?”
She stepped back from the dresser, finger pointing. His body pressed against her back and somehow her breathing calmed if only a little. His body stilled, then he crossed in front of her to pick up the mating symbol pressed between her clothes. He’d been in here. In her things. He picked up the rope made from her and Joseph’s hair and clothing on the day they mated. The first day he’d taken her to bed and touched her. Her skin crawled like millions of ants dancing across her flesh with wet, scratchy legs.
“Take your stuff and go to my room.”
“He was here. He was actually here.” Her voice sounded faraway, distant.
“Vanessa, get your clothes and go to my room now.”
“But, he was here! In your house. In my things.” Her eyes landed on the mating symbol in his hand and something hot and angry came over her. “Give it to me!” She reached for it, but he held it away. Her jaw tightened but she didn’t stop reaching for it. “I’m going to burn the fucking thing. Just give it to me, Brayden!”
“Vanessa, calm down. It’s okay.”
His soothing voice sounded grating on her very last nerve. She stood on tiptoed, curling her hands into his shirt and yelled into his face. “I will not calm down! Give me the fucking symbol!”
He blinked, something flashing in his eyes. Her frustrated mind had no time to analyze it, to figure out what the look meant. But she figured out rather quickly when his arms banded around her waist and lifted her up so his mouth could claim hers. She growled at him, squirming in his arms to get away, but his grip at her waist only tightened, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head to keep her still.