Dead Over Heels

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “It’s for your own good,” he said, his own temper rising.

  “My own good?” She goggled at him, and despite the tension he couldn’t help notice that her black eye had almost disappeared. Thank God. “How is scaring potential mates off for my own—oh my God. Oh my God! You. You! You deliberately set me up with losers and psychos and—and a rapist!”

  “I didn’t know Geoff would do that,” he said quickly, though he was still racked with guilt, and longed to visit the hospital and take a bite out of the man’s face. “I figured you wouldn’t click because he’s so dominant. And so are you. So I figured you’d reject him, too.”

  “Bastard! You’re supposed to be my friend.” She spied his keys hanging on the board, grabbed them, and threw them at him.

  He snatched them out of the air and plunked them on a nearby table. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m tired of being your friend,” he snapped.

  “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, you twit, that I’m in love with you. It means I’ve been in love with you since kindergarten.”

  “What?” she gasped, almost wheezing.

  “Didn’t it occur to you that there’s a reason I’m not mated yet, and it has nothing to do with our stupid pact? For Christ’s sake, Cain, we were seven when we made that pact, did you really expect them all to stick to it? Especially Michael, who has to provide heirs?”

  “You—you—”

  “Then you come to me asking me to fix you up?”

  “But you never said! You never said!”

  “I only dropped a million hints, idiot!”

  “Don’t call me names, jackass!”

  “Don’t expect me to help you hook up with some random jerkoff!”

  “Fine!”

  “Fine!”

  “I’m not staying here another minute!”

  “Fine!”

  “Except they towed my car this morning so I need a ride!”

  “Fine!” He snatched his keys off the table and stomped toward the front door. He’d imagined this scene a thousand times, but never quite like this. In his mind, she confessed she secretly loved him, too, and they ended up in bed, and he eventually knocked her up, and they lived happily ever after.

  Not this—this screaming awful fight.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 11

  Five days later, Cain was still fuming, bewildered, and betrayed. She’d ignored Saul’s calls and e-mails. She’d watched 300 nine more times.

  And over and over again she thought about dates one through seven, thought about the fact that Saul had cold-bloodedly set her up with the worst Pack members he could find, men he knew (because he knew her as no one else did) she would find repulsive.

  She hadn’t thought he had it in him.

  And the love thing? Ridiculous.

  There was no way.

  Right?

  Right.

  Because this was Saul. Sweet, stammering, beta Saul. Geeky, engineering, workaholic Saul.

  Saul, who’d given her his teddy bear at age five when she’d accidentally (okay, maybe she’d lost her temper a little) ripped the head off hers.

  Saul, who gave her his ice-cream cone when she dropped hers the summer they were six.

  Saul, who had comforted her when her parents died the fall she was fourteen, as she had comforted him when his mother died a year later, rapidly followed by his father.

  Saul, who listened impassively the spring she was seventeen when she told him about losing her virginity, then suggested she dump the guy.

  And she had. She had.

  Looking back through the years, she could see his subtle maneuverings, the way he always made sure she stayed single, the way he gently discouraged her from pursuing certain men, men she might have fallen for.

  Sneaky treacherous bastard!

  If she ever saw him again (fat chance of that) she would punch his face in. Repeatedly. Until he was a big bloody mess on the ground. He and Geoff the asshole could share a hospital room.

  By the fifth day, she had heaved herself up off the living room couch, hosed herself off, dressed in fresh, clean clothes, and bopped down the street to the nearest bar.

  She moved easily, without pain; the damage Geoff had inflicted was long gone—although she had called the Cape Cod Hospital two days ago and established he was still an inpatient. That had put the first smile on her face in seventy-two hours. She hoped his balls still hurt.

  After pushing her way past the waiting crowd, after being waved in by the bouncer, she headed straight for the bar. Never had she wanted a drink so badly.

  Now she was slumped on a stool, sucking down Coronas and thinking about all the ways she would mutilate Saul if she ever saw him again (fat chance of that).

  “Excuse me?”

  First, she’d break his nose. Then, she’d break out all his teeth. Then—

  “Excuse me?”

  She turned to look; a cute redheaded, green-eyed werewolf had slid onto the stool beside her. That was a relief; at least a monkey wasn’t about to put the moves on her. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t I know you?”

  “I dunno. Do you?”

  “You’re Cain, right?”

  “Right.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it. He really was cute, with those sparkling green eyes and that big grin. And freckles!

  “I’m Darrell.”

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, and buried her face in her hands.

  Chapter 12

  I don’t have an STD. Contrary to rumor.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Buy you another one?” he asked, gesturing to her beer bottle, which was almost empty.

  “Sure.”

  “So,” he said, while they were waiting for the bartender, “Saul got it wrong, huh? That’s not like him.”

  “Oh yes it is. He got it wrong on purpose. He’s been steering guys away from me for years. He just stepped it up this month.”

  There was an awkward pause while the bartender plunked down their drinks, then Darrell said, “Jeez, that’s—uh—weird. Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s gone insane?”

  “I dunno, sounds like a description of a man in love to me.”

  “Please,” she said, furiously chomping on her lime.

  “That would explain,” Darrell said thoughtfully, “why I also heard that you were anorexic, hooked on marijuana, and a nymphomaniac.”

  She nearly choked on her lime. “I haven’t gotten laid in two years! And all that other stuff isn’t true, either,” she added belatedly.

  “You’re right. He has gone insane. Saul, of all people! Crazy over you, at least.”

  “Please,” she said again.

  “Wow,” he said cheerfully, slurping his Bud. “I heard you were a little slow on the uptake, but does he have to paint it on your forehead?”

  “I am not, either!” she said furiously, resisting the impulse to break the bottle over his stupid red head. “And he does not! And he better not. I can’t believe you’re on his side. Men,” she snorted. “You all stick together.”

  “We sort of have to,” he said apologetically. “Mars and Venus and all that stuff, right? Guys have to stick together. Otherwise, you’d destroy us all.”

  “That’s an interesting worldview. Creepy, but interesting.” She finished her beer and made up her mind. “So. You wanna go out? Tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” he said, “but I won’t.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “Because Saul’s in love with you and you’re probably in love with him, you’re just too pissed to see it. And I’m not getting in the middle of that. Although you are perfectly cute,” he assured her.

  “We’re just friends,” she snapped, ignoring the niggle of doubt crawling up her spine. “But thanks for the cute thing.”

  “No problem. But you’re one hundred percent deluded about his feelings.”

  “Deluded?” she echoed disbelievingly.

  “Oh, sure. He’s totally in love
with you. That’s why he did all that research on every eligible male Pack member. Guy probably hasn’t slept since you got back to town.”

  “He told me that was work!”

  “Well, for him, it probably was.”

  She banged her forehead on the surface of the bar. “Jerk. Jerk. Jerk.”

  “Hey. Quit that.” Darrell shoved his hand between her forehead and the bar, so the next time her head banged down on his hand. “Seriously, stop! You’ll give yourself a concussion.”

  “I never could read his writing. I saw the paperwork, it was all over the living room.”

  “Well, you should quit bitching that you didn’t have any clues. You had tons of them, sounds like.”

  “It’s possible I hate you more than I hate Saul.”

  “Problem is, you don’t hate Saul. So why don’t you go see him?”

  “Because he’s a treacherous, lying bastard?”

  “Who’s been with you through—what’s the phrase? Thick and thin?”

  “I have just decided,” she said, “that this is none of your business.”

  “Oh, I love to meddle. Besides, you looked so cute and forlorn I couldn’t help coming over.”

  “Puppies are cute,” she grumped. “Babies are cute. I am not cute.”

  “Awww, don’t be so hard on yourself, cute stuff. And go see Saul!”

  “Forget it.”

  He cupped his chin in one hand and studied her. “Man, he’s a brave bastard. You’d be a handful.”

  “Shut up. Go away.”

  “If you promise to go see him, I will.”

  “How about if I just beat the crap out of you instead?”

  “Oh, no,” he said earnestly. “Then it’d be awkward if we ever ran into each other again.”

  “What is with you?”

  “I’m a huge fan of true love.”

  Incredibly, she heard herself promise. Anything for some fucking peace and quiet.

  Chapter 13

  She charged into Saul’s living room, having rapidly metabolized the beer and deciding to get her promise over with as soon as possible.

  “All right, you treacherous son of a bitch, you sneaky sly—shit.”

  The house was empty. Which was weird; where was he at friggin’ midnight, anyway? He had no life outside of work! And her! And work!

  Probably out spreading more odious rumors about her; she wouldn’t put it past him.

  She settled down to wait. She’d wait all night if she had to. All week. And ooooh, she was going to give him such a piece of her mind, and possibly a concussion, and maybe even—

  The front door swung open, and Saul staggered inside.

  “Oh my God!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered, trying to limp past her, but she blocked his way. He had a bloody nose, the beginnings of two black eyes, and there was something wrong with his leg.

  “Sit down, let me look at your leg.”

  He tried to push her away and nearly fell over. She easily shoved him onto the couch, ripped his jeans open, and examined the bulge.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s broken.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And it’s healing really fast.”

  “Ye—aaaagggggghhhhhh!”

  She had slammed her fist down on the bulge, straightening out the greenstick fracture with one blow.

  “There!” she said with false cheer. “All fixed.”

  Saul leaned over the edge of the couch and threw up.

  “I’ll, uh, go get the mop.”

  “Go away,” he groaned.

  “Well,” she replied, “normally that would be tempting, except now I have to go kill whoever beat the shit out of you. But first I have to mop up the puke.”

  So she went to get the mop. Thank God for hardwood floors.

  Chapter 14

  So who did it?”

  “I fell down the stairs.”

  She snorted. “How many times?”

  “Look, aren’t you furious with me?” He massaged his temples and winced. “What are you even doing here?”

  “Sure I’m pissed. But we’ll sort that out after I kill the guy. Which would be a lot easier if you’d give me a name. Hate to eat the wrong guy. So who was it?”

  “I walked into a door.”

  “A door made of metal spikes?”

  He groaned as she shoved a hamburger under his nose. “This thing is burned black on the outside and I just know it’s raw on the inside.”

  “You have to eat.”

  “You’re a shitty cook.”

  “Well, consider it your just reward for past treacheries. Eat!”

  He scowled at her, snatched the burger away, and took a big bite. He masticated for a moment, then said, “Dead cold in the middle, I knew it.”

  “Shut up.” She handed him a glass of milk, and he drained it in three swallows. “Who did it?”

  “I was in a car accident.”

  “With how many tractor trailers?” She whipped out the washcloth and set about cleaning the blood off of his face, ignoring his efforts to push her away while he gobbled the burger.

  “Cain, stop fussing, it’s been a long damn day.” He batted her hand away like it was an annoying insect.

  “Saul, for Christ’s sake, will you cough up already? You—wait a minute.” She leaned forward and took a sniff. He tried to inch away from her but the couch was at his back and he had nowhere to go.

  She sniffed harder. “I know that smell! That’s Geoff the asshole! Oh my God! I will kill him! He is dead! So totally, stinking, fucking dead!”

  “Actually, Ms. Nosy Parker, he’s back in the hospital.”

  “Completely massively dead! Wait. What?”

  “He got out today. So I went to have a chat with him about how not to treat people I’ve secretly been in love with for twenty-five years. He disagreed.” Saul touched his left eye, puffing and a hideous greenish brown. “Vehemently. But, as the saying goes, you should see the other guy.”

  “You went after that guy? By yourself?” She threw up her hands and he flinched. “Sorry. But Jesus Christ, Saul! What has gotten into you this week?”

  “I have no idea,” he said dully.

  “If you had that big a beef you should have gone to the Pack leader! Or let me handle him!”

  “Ha! Not likely.”

  She ignored that. “Not picked a fight with someone like that. God, he could have broken your stupid neck.”

  “So? That would solve a lot of problems for you, wouldn’t—aaaagggghhhhh!”

  She’d punched his bad leg again. “Now you’re just sounding like a jerk. A pissed-off jerk.”

  “Which is,” he admitted, “usually your job.”

  “I just cannot believe you went after him!”

  “I felt guilty,” he admitted. “Really, really guilty. You—I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen you cry and he made you—he—y-you—and your shirt w-was all torn and he’d h-hit you a-and—a-and—”

  She kissed him to shut him up.

  Chapter 15

  She kissed him as gently as she knew how, delicate butterfly kisses on his mouth, his cheeks, his swollen nose, his bruised eyes, his forehead, and he brought his arms around her with shocking strength and pulled her onto his lap. She gently parted his lips with her tongue and he sucked it greedily into his mouth, making her gasp.

  “Wait,” she said, pulling back. “Not to sound like a cocktease, which I’ve already been accused of this week, but you’re awfully banged up. Maybe this isn’t such a good—”

  “Are you kidding?” he said, heaving himself off the couch with her in his arms. “And let this chance go by?” And with that he actually ran with her to his bedroom, dropped her on the bed, then started pulling off his clothes as quickly as possible.

  “If you don’t quit,” she said, trying not to laugh as a sock sailed past her ear, “you’re going to hurt
yourself again.”

  “Shouldn’t you be naked by now? No, wait. I want to do it.”

  “Bossy.”

  “It’s been a weird week.”

  So she let him ease her shirt off, pull her shorts off, divest her of panties and bra. Then he was on top of her, his broad chest settling against hers as he kissed her, sucking her lips into his mouth and gently nibbling at the tender flesh. She groaned into his mouth—it had been two years—and arched against him when his big warm hands covered her breasts.

  She ran her hands down his broad back, feeling the smooth muscles beneath the skin, praying Geoff the asshole hadn’t cracked a rib or worse. She ran her fingers through his black pubic hair and grasped his cock, feeling the velvety length pulsing against her hand. He was—my, my.

  “Saul, you are hung like a horse.”

  “Stop that,” he groaned, “if you don’t want to be done before we really get started.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Please stop talking,” he begged.

  “Yeah, that’s not really my style. It’s—” He kissed her, effectively shutting her up, and she wrapped her legs around his back as he eased into her, inch by delightful inch. He was panting, harsh gasps in her ear, and moving with maddening slowness. She beat his back with her fists but he ignored her obvious urgency and sucked a nipple into his mouth.

  “Saul, for Christ’s sake,” she groaned.

  “Please s-stop talking.”

  “Saul, please!”

  So he obligingly slammed into her and she screamed at the ceiling as sparks exploded in front of her eyes, as he thrust and shoved and pushed, as she tightened her grip on his hips and grabbed his ass and sank her fingernails into him.

  Her orgasms were like fireworks—one, two, three, much better than anything she’d been achieving on her own in the last twenty-four months—and still he thrust, still he pushed inside her and withdrew and pushed again, and the sweet agony exploded through her again and she shrieked his name.

  “Oh, God, Cain!” he cried, and then he shivered all over and she could feel him pulsing inside her, filling her up, warming her from the inside out, and she shuddered once more in answer to his pure male need.

  They lay locked together, gasping.

  “Oh my God,” she said at last.