Alpha's Promise

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Yes.” The woman had been shaky since discovering that two more of her colleagues had been brutally murdered, and trusting him to protect her had to feel odd after the way they’d met. But he appreciated her ability to follow logic and not emotion in the situation.

  He couldn’t relate to emotion any longer.

  He released the lock and walked inside, closing his eyes to listen. Nothing. And no energy signatures he couldn’t identify. But he searched the living room, one bedroom, and bathroom before taking in the clean kitchen and nook. Nothing except the slight scent of purple heather—her scent.

  She followed him inside and shut the door to lock it.

  He whistled and moved toward the sliding glass door beyond the breakfast nook. A small but private yard led to cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. In late September, the sea rolled gray and white, promising a chilly winter to come. It reminded him of his early days, on the sea, with his family. There had been a Realm headquarters somewhere in the cliffs of Oregon, and he made a mental note to find out where it had been, just in case. Of course, it had been blown up. Why did their headquarters continually get blown up? Maybe leasing the high-rise office wasn’t a bad idea. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes.” She tossed her jacket over a chair and yanked several notebooks out of her briefcase. “I need to get to work.”

  “Um, how about dinner?” he asked, studying her. The flimsy silk blouse followed her contours as she tossed the notebooks onto the coffee table, and his mouth started to water for anything but food. He paused and turned to survey her place. Muted colors, artfully arranged, clean and uncluttered. Even the bedroom had been so.

  “There are delivery menus in the right-hand drawer on the other side of the island.” She pointed toward the kitchen and settled herself on the sofa.

  Delivery? He walked around the island and past the stove. “How about I cook something?”

  She looked up and blinked a couple of times until her eyes focused on him. “You cook?”

  “Yeah.” Taking up the hobby had been part of his recovery the last three months, and he found he liked the exactness of it. And he enjoyed eating, so it was a practical hobby too.

  “I don’t have much food,” she said, not seeming concerned about it.

  He moved to a quaintly old-fashioned refrigerator to find several batches of vegetables already cleaned. The woman probably took them raw to eat as snacks at work. “I’ll make it happen.” He found a pot and filled it with water to start boiling before searching for a knife. Then he started chopping.

  She glanced away from her notebooks. “You are remarkably fast.”

  He slowed his knife to a more human range. “I just make a lot of noise.” He smiled and scanned her home. Besides a few framed photographs of her with her parents and her as a student with other kids, there wasn’t much of her in the place.

  “What?” she asked, finally concentrating fully on him.

  He shrugged. “Dunno. Figured your house would include rich colors and wild paintings.”

  She smiled, twirling a highlighter in one hand. “Direct opposite of what I show the world?”

  “Yeah.” He’d also imagined her in a scarlet-red panty set but figured she wouldn’t appreciate that revelation. He couldn’t tell what she wore beneath the pink silk, but it obviously wasn’t bright red. Or black.

  “No. What you see is what there is.” She looked into the quiet living room. “Hired a decorator right when I moved in, and she bought the pieces. Said they were tranquil and went well with the ocean outside.”

  Books were lined neatly on the shelves, and no television was visible anywhere. She drew him in a way he didn’t understand, especially since they seemed too much alike to arouse any “opposites attract” flow of hormones. Although her choice of vocation might negate that theory. There was more to her than he could see—he just knew it. “What do you do for fun?” he asked, dumping the vegetables into the water.

  “I work.” She kicked off her shoes. “My few friends are colleagues, really. We’ve come up with new experiments together.” She mulled it over. “I play some VR multiplayer games online sometimes.”

  “Dealing with science?” He grinned.

  “Of course.” She shrugged and rolled her feet around.

  He swallowed. There was just something about her ankles. He searched through the cupboards and found a set of herbs that remained protected by their plastic coatings. Had probably been a gift. “I see.”

  She shrugged, her face turning a lovely pink. “Must seem boring to you. Cold and logical.”

  “No,” he said, relaxing for the first time that day as he sprinkled in different herbs. His brain finally made the connection. “You’re a romantic, Promise Williams. You just don’t show it.”

  Her chuckle was low and feminine, and he felt it right in his balls. “A romantic? Not in a million years.”

  Her lack of self-awareness was intriguing. He nodded. “Not true. Anybody who studies the cosmology of extra dimensions, supersymmetry, and dark matter is truly a romantic. All of you deep thinkers are big dreamers.”

  She rubbed her nose, her gaze meeting his. “Nobody has ever called me either a romantic or a dreamer.”

  “Then they don’t see you clearly,” he returned, moving to the freezer and finding a decent pack of meat he could use for the stew. He tossed it into the microwave to defrost, his gaze trailing back to the woman. What was it about her?

  She glanced down at a page in her notebook. “I don’t wish to take advantage of your business group, but I really want that money for the university.”

  Ah, the sweetheart. “You think we’re crazy?”

  She winced. “Not crazy, just misinformed. Dreaming, rather. There’s no way we’re going to find another dimension or travel to another universe in this lifetime. In several, actually.”

  Not with the laws of physics she knew. Man, he’d like to tell her everything about the world that humans didn’t see. Didn’t know. “We can take care of ourselves. You just come up with your best theory, and I hope you’ll get the grant.” He waited until her gaze met his. “In fact, I’ll make sure you do.” He had enough of his own funds to give her five hundred million or so without missing any.

  She sighed. “Can you imagine? The breathtaking danger and risk we’d create if we tried to bend time? It’d be a horrible mistake.”

  So not what he wanted to hear. Not even close.

  Her gaze moved to his damaged neck.

  “You can ask me,” he murmured, shoving aside her remarks about risk and danger. “I don’t mind.”

  She shrugged slim shoulders. “None of my business.”

  Yet he wanted to tell her. When he’d first returned from his hellish trip through other places, he had to relearn how to speak, even though he didn’t want to. Then he’d forced himself to talk to a shrink and get it all out. But he’d hated every second of it. Now, for the first time, he really did want to tell the truth, and he couldn’t. “I was on a mission, things went bad, and I was burned.”

  She nodded. “I surmised it was something like that. I’m glad you survived.”

  Had he? Sometimes, in the minute before dark turned to dawn, when he hadn’t slept all night, he wondered. Maybe he was actually still back in hell. Just dreaming that he’d escaped. “I’m still figuring things out, and I make dumb mistakes.” His IQ was unmeasurable, but he hadn’t acted like it in too long. “Yesterday, I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

  Her head jerked. “You terrified me.”

  The words were like a knife to the gut. “I’m sorry.” Maybe he wasn’t ready to be around humans yet.

  She exhaled. “You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again. To anybody. Ever.”

  “I promise,” he said, meaning every syllable. Kidnapping wasn’t his style. Not that he had a style. Her easy forgiveness was a balm to so
me of his guilt. Much of his hurt. He liked her brain, and now he was seeing her heart.

  “Should I help you make dinner?” she asked, sounding as if she were offering to attend a twelve-hour lecture on dentistry.

  “No. I’ve got it.” His movements were quick and economical. “I enjoy cooking. The preciseness of it.”

  She smiled. “I can see that, although I don’t understand. Cooking has never been my passion.”

  Passion. The word hung in the air for a moment. He nodded. “I like it. Maybe someday I’ll teach you.” Why the hell had he said that?

  She cleared her throat, obviously skipping right over the offer. Smart girl. “We’ve agreed no more kidnappings. How about no more guns?”

  “Not a chance,” he said. If she had any idea of who was after her, she’d want to carry a gun herself. “Sorry.”

  “Do you have a gun right now?” She tapped her bare foot, meeting his gaze directly.

  In answer, he withdrew the pistol from the back of his waist and set it on the top of the island. “Yes.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know anything about guns. It’s green. Well, a light metallic green. What kind is it?”

  He looked at the weapon. It fired green lasers that turned into hard projectiles when hitting an immortal body. “It’s a prototype. You’ve never heard of it.”

  She shook out her dark hair. “You and your colleagues seem to have good connections. I couldn’t find out much about you, however.”

  He nodded. The woman had no clue. He tucked the gun back in place, which relaxed him even more. How screwed up was that? “How’s your head? Any more pain?”

  “No.” She chewed on the end of the pen, looking adorable. “But I’ll make an appointment for an MRI next week at the hospital. Just in case.” She rubbed her eye. “The losing consciousness concerns me.”

  Yeah, but it was because of Mercy and then Benny. Ivar stirred the stew. “Has that ever happened before?”

  She ducked her head. “No.” Lying. She was definitely lying.

  “All right. We both obviously have things we don’t like to talk about. Let’s make it even.” He flattened both hands on the cool granite as the stew began to thicken and bubble. “I sometimes go a couple of nights without sleeping because the nightmares get too bad.” When she looked up again, he nodded. “Your turn.”

  “This conversation is peculiar,” she murmured, tilting her head to study him. When he didn’t respond, she sighed. “All right. Yes, there have been a few times in my life that I’ve gotten an odd tingle in the back of my neck that led to pain. It’s usually fleeting.” Her eyes widened. “In fact, I felt it a little when you first tried to kidnap me, but it went away.”

  He stiffened. “Do you feel it now?”

  “No,” she said. “Haven’t since that first moment, so I concluded it was just adrenaline or panic. You know. From the gun you pressed into my ribs.”

  He winced. “I’ve apologized.” Repeatedly. What the hell did she want? “I’m the one who flew through glass and hit the asphalt.”

  She lifted her head slightly. “Speaking of which. Shouldn’t you have more injuries than you do?”

  “Nope.” One good thing about logical people was that they believed what they saw. Although she might take the news of his real genetics more easily than most humans; after all, she worked with outlandish theories all day long. “I tucked and rolled. Sure, I have some cuts, but nothing is broken.” He smiled. “Though you’re welcome to check me out.” Oh, he did not just say that. What was wrong with his damn mouth?

  Her dark eyebrows rose. “The police theorized that you were under the influence of strong drugs.”

  “I’m sure.” He stirred the pot, which was finally smelling like dinner. “I don’t do drugs, and I have the training necessary to protect myself during an event such as flying through your windshield.”

  She studied him. “I’m not going to apologize.”

  “You shouldn’t,” he said. “You reacted quickly and intelligently to what you considered a threat.” In fact, he was still impressed by her—especially since she’d just gotten him off track. “When were the other times you experienced the tingling and then the pain in your head?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. Once on a train, once in a crowd in New York City at a conference, and once in a restaurant at Harvard. I didn’t lose consciousness any of those times. It’s odd.” She glanced at the clock. “I’m planning to make an appointment tomorrow to get my head examined.” She chuckled, her pretty eyes lighting up. “You can make a joke about that now.”

  “I don’t joke.” He stirred some more.

  She sat back. “Never?”

  He shook his head. “No. Even before I went through the mission that went bad, I was the serious one—the one who planned everything and kept our operation running smoothly. It was my place, and there wasn’t time for jokes.” Even when he’d been a kid and then a Viking on the open seas, life was rarely calm enough to go for the one-liner. He wouldn’t know how, anyway. “There isn’t much I find funny.” That was the truth, so he gave it to her.

  “Me either.” She crossed her legs in the slim skirt. “A lot of times, when other people catch a joke, I completely miss it. I think I interpret words too literally. Subtext, sarcasm, and even humor escape me sometimes.” She sounded more thoughtful than regretful.

  Man, she was cute. Nerdy and sexy and brilliant. An alluring combination for a scarred former Viking who figured he’d die in the battle coming up and was just fine with that fact. For now, his blood pumped through his veins. He wanted to choose his words carefully, but after more than a millennium of not doing so, it was probably too late to try now. “You intrigue me, Promise Williams.”

  Her eyebrows rose now. “You intrigue me as well. Not the kidnapping part. But the cooking dinner and being so deadly combination.” Her gaze raked down his chest. “And you’re certainly good looking.”

  Good looking? With his scars? “What are you saying?” he asked.

  She sat back, for the first time looking uncertain. “What are you saying?”

  Cute. So damn cute. They were under pressure, and there was a fantastic way to release that, so long as no expectations were created. He couldn’t be there for a mate, or even a girlfriend. “I was trying to find a smooth way of seeing if you wanted, to, ah—”

  “Have sexual intercourse with you?” she asked.

  Surprise zinged through him, and he coughed out a laugh. A real laugh. “Yes.” Then he held his breath as the stew started to bubble over.

  Finally, she spoke. “Yes. I think I would like to do so.”

  Chapter Nine

  Promise finished doing the dishes after eating a remarkable stew while the Viking scouted outside the home for any threats. Who’d have thought the muscled badass would be such a good cook? Dinner had been delicious and comfortable as they discussed current politics, movies, and the possibility of religion. The meal had been enjoyable and relaxed. Every once in a while, he’d study her with that brilliant blue gaze, and her hormones would wake right up.

  It was good they’d determined they’d have a sexual relationship while he served as her bodyguard. Oh, it might be improper, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t had a good orgasm in way too long, and these things were physical—not emotional.

  He appeared at the sliding glass door and opened it, letting in a rapidly escalating wind. “We’re clear.”

  She wiped her hands on the dish towel and hung it on the proper hook. “I imagined we would be.” She waited until he closed the door and locked it. “Do you really believe I’m in danger?” Based on the financial report of his corporation, he didn’t need the extra money for protecting her, so there didn’t appear to be an ulterior motive for the claim.

  “Yes.” His size overwhelmed the breakfast nook, and a stray red leaf clung to the right shoulder of hi
s black shirt, which was still shoved haphazardly into ripped jeans. “What do you think?”

  She ran through the facts in her head again. “I’m uncertain. There does seem to be a killer targeting physics experts, as bizarre as that sounds. Of course, killing in general is bizarre, so that tracks.” She thought it through as he watched her with that incredible blue gaze. “My instincts, which I rarely heed, are telling me that something is going on and that I am in danger.” Hopefully the authorities would catch the killer soon.

  Ivar nodded. “Good. If you realize you’re in danger, you’ll take precautions.”

  “Like hiring you,” she murmured. “Speaking of which, we should negotiate a contract.” They should get all the business out of the way before retiring to the bedroom.

  Amusement tilted his upper lip. At least, it looked like amusement. “Ah, Missy. Let’s just consider my protection services as part of the grant process. I don’t need your money.”

  No, it did not appear that he did. She stilled. “Missy?”

  He blinked. “Sorry. Nickname for Promise? It just came out.”

  She warmed anyway. “I tried to use it as a nickname in high school but my parents wouldn’t allow it.” They thought it made her sound too, well, something. “I guess since we’re talking about becoming intimate, it’s something you could try.”

  His eyes lightened, and humor filled them. For some reason, it made her feel good. As if she’d made him happy for a moment. She cleared her throat. “I think our business and personal interactions should be kept separate,” she said.

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  The man was so agreeable. She nodded and crossed the kitchen, her breathing accelerating enough to be noticeable. They’d already agreed to have relations, and she’d shaved her legs earlier that day, so there wasn’t anything to be nervous about. This was a normal bodily function. “So, are you tired?” she asked, moving toward the bedroom.