Unraveled By Blood, A Sweetblood World Vampire Romance

by Laurie London

  Clearly, he’d been wrong, and he couldn’t get up there fast enough.

  Now, here she was, standing before him, looking even more beautiful than he remembered.

  Inhaling deeply, he drew her sweet scent into his lungs, thankful for the desensitization training he’d gone through since that last, disastrous time they’d been together. He quickly shoved those thoughts out of his mind, not wanting to dwell on past mistakes. He had a job to do, nothing more, then he would leave.

  “Mateo?” Selena said, dark eyes wide. She frowned, as if his name sounded strange to say after all these years. “What are you doing here?”

  He took a step back, allowing his gaze to roam lazily over her from head to toe, searing her into his brain. He would need these vivid memories to refer to later. He’d fucked a lot of women these past few years in the hopes of getting Selena out of his head. And it had worked…for the most part. Although he hadn’t fallen in love with anyone else, he no longer thought about her every hour of every day.

  Her dark hair was shorter now, skimming just the tops of her shoulders and secured off her face by a rolled-up pink bandana. The faded concert T-shirt she wore was covered in flour and smudges of chocolate. Skinny jeans hugged that gorgeous ass of hers, and on her feet was a pair of not-quite-white sneakers. She still had that same casual, easy-going air about her that said not only was she comfortable with herself, but that you didn’t need to change either.

  He’d forgotten how it was to be around her. Having grown up in a family with rigid expectations that he’d always fallen short of, he’d never felt that pressure with Selena. It was one of the reasons he fell for her in the first place. He’d loved how he felt about himself when he was with her, that he was enough just the way he was.

  His gaze met hers, and that’s when he noticed the dark, faintly blue circles underneath her eyes. It was a classic sign of the longterm fatigue of a blood donor.

  Grinding his teeth together to keep his temper under control, he willed his fangs not to descend. Even though it wasn’t entirely unexpected, seeing her like this, an unwitting victim, made him want to destroy something. Punch his fist through something. Hunt down whoever was responsible and rip out their throats.

  Patience, he told himself. That will come. Just don’t scare her. Not again.

  The first order of business was to get her to safety. Everything else was secondary.

  He shrugged, trying to act casual. “I was hungry. Thought I’d stop by.”

  She blinked and looked around. “Where’s Paula, my employee?”

  “Gone,” he said, matching her flat tone.

  Fury flashed momentarily in her brown eyes. “I can see that.”

  Leaning back against the counter, he liked that he was having an effect on her, even if it was negative. He could handle anger. It was a thousand times better than indifference. “She said you were napping in the back and that she was going to deliver the food samples to your customer.”

  Selena raised a brow at him. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Why?” He wasn’t lying. Not exactly.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. She clearly wasn’t buying his explanation. “She left you, a stranger, here with me asleep in the back room?”

  “I’m not a stranger.”

  “She doesn’t know that,” Selena snapped.

  “What can I say?” He spread his hands wide. “I look trustworthy, I guess.”

  The look on her face made him glad there wasn’t a frying pan within reach.

  When he’d arrived, the pink-haired girl had been bustling around the kitchen. Sensing Selena was somewhere nearby, he’d turned on the charm and learned Paula was putting the finishing touches on food Selena was going to be taking to a customer. It was easy enough to implant a mind suggestion that she should deliver it instead.

  With a frustrated groan, Selena grabbed her cell phone. Hand on her hip, she tapped her foot as she made a call. Apparently no one answered, because she then began to violently stab out a text message. Brows furrowed, she stared at the screen, waiting for a response. “Dang it, Paula. Where are you?”

  “Driving?”

  Selena’s head shot up. “What?”

  “She could be a big believer in no texting and driving.” Without waiting for what would undoubtedly be a scathing reply, he added, “Don’t you trust her?”

  Selena sighed and rubbed her forehead. Tucking the phone into the back pocket of her jeans, she opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Unfortunately, I don’t. Looks like she got everything, though, but I have no idea if she even knows how to get there.”

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Mateo said, “she did seem to know what she was doing. I helped her load the car.”

  Selena glanced at him over her shoulder and looked him up and down. “You haven’t changed, have you? Always managing to charm people, even when they should know better.”

  Her expression softened for a moment, as if she were remembering something pleasant, but just as quickly, her eyes turned brittle again.

  Even though he knew it was for the best that Selena despise him—hell, he hated himself for what he had done and would never forgive himself either—he couldn’t deny that it hurt.

  Spotting a small glass filled with toothpicks, he grabbed one and stuck it in his mouth. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  She brushed a white smudge of flour on her T-shirt as if that were more interesting to look at than him. “What brings you here after, what, four years?”

  Four years, two months and eleven days to be exact.

  He cleared his throat and moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. Now for the real lie. “My parents are thinking about selling the family estate, so I thought I’d come back and check it out before it’s gone.”

  “And where’s home for you now?” Her tone was conversational, like she didn’t really give a shit but felt obliged to ask.

  “New Orleans.”

  “And you haven’t been back?”

  Not since the night I nearly killed you.

  His parents had pulled in all sorts of favors to have that horrible incident buried. Selena’s mind had been wiped. The minds of their human friends who’d witnessed what happened had been wiped. Suggested memories had been implanted with the EMTs and hospital staff. According to his father, who’d proceeded to beat the shit out of him later that night, it had been one huge fucking mess.

  But in the end, they were right. He’d just about killed the woman he loved. And nothing, not even love, was worth paying that price.

  He shook his head. “Just wanted to see how you were doing. That’s all.”

  Her nostrils flared as she pointed a finger at him. “You’re an asshole, you know that, Mateo?” She paused, her anger gaining momentum. “A cowardly, selfish asshole. I’ve moved on, in case you haven’t noticed. I have no interest—none—in hooking up with you again, if that’s what you really came here for.”

  Her words cut like a knife. “I didn’t,” he said coldly.

  Did she really think that was why he’d come here? A quick fuck for old time’s sake? He was an asshole, sure, but he’d never use her like that.

  He looked around the efficient but tiny kitchen, seeing her touch everywhere. Various pans, utensils and ingredients were stacked neatly on the counters and shelves. Selena had always been an amazing baker. Cookies, brownies, pies, cakes. You name it. He used to sit in her kitchen for hours and watch her concoct stuff.

  “Tosca Catering,” he said, noting the hand-lettered sign over the door. “Congratulations. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself.”

  Selena shrugged as if his compliment meant nothing to her.

  “You ever find your mom’s lemon cake recipe?” he asked.

  She drew in a sharp breath. “You…remember that?”

  “Of course. How could I forget?”

  Selena had told him how her mother used to bake lemon cake for her father—his all-time favorite—but aft
er her mother died, her father couldn’t find the recipe, and he feared his wife had never written it down. Selena had been determined to make her father the same lemon cake, so when she was old enough, she tried recipe after recipe.

  “Although having tasted yours,” he said, “I can’t see how any other cake could come close to being as good.”

  She paused for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip. Then, without a word, she opened the refrigerator and soon set a plate down in front of him filled with several confections, including a thin slice of lemon cake.

  He glanced at her, both shocked at the kind gesture and yet, not really surprised. She’d always had this thing about feeding people. Said it fed her spirit. Guess that hadn’t changed.

  “Go on. Eat,” she said. “And then you’re going to leave.”

  And you’re coming with me.

  He wasted no time digging in. Although he’d fed from a human when he’d stopped for gas in Boise and sated his appetite, he would never in a million years pass up a dessert that Selena made.

  “So. Damn. Good,” he said through mouthfuls of cake. “Even better than I remembered.” It literally melted in his mouth. The perfect combination of tart and sweet. He was basically having a mouth orgasm right now.

  Selena didn’t look at him as she tidied up the kitchen, although he did catch the hint of a smile a few times.

  “How are your parents?” she asked. “I heard they moved out of the area.”

  He didn’t look up. “Don’t know. We don’t keep in contact. How about your father?”

  She studied him a moment before answering. “He’s fine.”

  “Tell him…I said hello.” He’d always liked her father, though he didn’t want to think about how the man felt about him now. After Mateo’s sudden departure, he had to be on the man’s shit list.

  He finished the lemon cake and wasted no time wolfing down a small, raspberry-filled pastry and a caramel nut bar. “Delicious.”

  Then he reached for the chocolate truffle.

  It was large. Bigger than a golf ball. He should’ve eaten it in two bites. Maybe three. But no, he had to pop the whole goddamn thing into his mouth at once. But as soon as he bit down, he knew he was in trouble.

  “What the fuck!” He spit it out, his hand flying up to cover his emerging fangs. He jumped to the sink and began rinsing the taste from his mouth.

  “You…don’t like it?” she said from behind. “It’s a chocolate truffle. With rum.”

  Like hell it was. He coughed and choked, trying to ignore the sudden and powerful call of her blood, but all he could think about was sinking his fangs into the tender skin of her neck. Then swallowing. And swallowing. And swallowing.

  “You okay?” She touched his back and he flinched.

  “No. Get away!” His voice was raw and frayed, and his willpower began to unravel.

  He wished he could implant a suggestion to make her barricade herself in her office, but that would mean getting closer to her, and there was no way he trusted himself enough to do that.

  That truffle—that delicious fucking truffle—was made with Sweet. And now that he’d had a taste, his dark nature wanted more.

  Chapter 4

  Selena blinked a few times, trying to understand what was happening. One minute, Mateo had been perfectly fine, asking about her father and eating a sampling of desserts she’d made, and the next minute, he was going completely mental.

  Without a word or backward glance, he stormed from the kitchen as if he couldn’t get out fast enough and slammed the door behind him.

  Was he…actually leaving? She crossed to the window and looked through the blinds. The rain had really picked up and it was almost full dark, so it took a moment for her to spot him. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t in the parking lot getting into his car. Instead, he was pacing in front of another business two doors down with his hands clasped behind his head. It looked like he was taking in deep gulps of air.

  She wasn’t sure whether or not to go out there to see if there was something she could do to help. In the end, she stayed inside and cleaned up the mess. She still had no idea why he’d turned up out of the blue after so long. It hurt, actually, that he thought he could stroll back into her life like it was no big deal. That they could chat and be friendly despite what had happened. Whatever his motives were for this little visit, she hardened her resolve not to let him affect her.

  When she was done cleaning, she pulled the few remaining truffles from the refrigerator and stared at them. These were the rejects. The ones that didn’t look as pretty as the ones that Paula had hopefully taken. Why had Mateo reacted so negatively when he took a bite? She didn’t understand. She’d tasted them earlier. So had Paula. They weren’t that bad, were they?

  And then a thought occurred to her. What if her customer had the same reaction as Mateo? That would not be good. As she went to test one again, the door banged open, and she jerked her hand away.

  Mateo stood in the doorway, cool evening air pouring into the kitchen from behind him. His hair and the tops of his shoulders glistened from the rain. “Do not touch those.”

  “Why?” she asked, more confused than ever. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Throw them in the sink,” he growled. “Better yet, flush them down the toilet.”

  The toilet? What the hell? “Mateo, I don’t—”

  “You do have a bathroom here, don’t you?” The way the shadows fell across his face, his irises looked almost completely black. It was more than a little unnerving.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Then fucking do it, Selena.”

  The harsh language surprised her. When they’d been together, he’d rarely spoken like that. And never toward her.

  She took the tray of truffles, carried them into the small bathroom and flushed them. Then she returned to the kitchen. “Better?”

  “Now wash the pan and your hands.”

  Okay, this was more than just a little weird. “Can you at least close the door?” she said, setting the tray in the sink, turning on the hot water, and squirting it with dish soap. “It’s cold.”

  “I can still smell it.”

  Oh my God, is he serious?

  “Smell what?” Exasperated, she turned on the overhead stove ventilation. “The chocolate? The rum? I don’t get it, Mateo. Have you suddenly developed deadly allergies? Because if you’re allergic to chocolate now, why did you even attempt to eat that truffle in the first place?”

  “It’s not the chocolate I’m allergic to,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Just then, she spotted a large moth flying in through the open door where he stood. “Ack! A miller!”

  He snatched it out of the air with lightning-fast reflexes.

  “Don’t kill it,” she demanded. “Just put it outside and shut the door.”

  He did what she wanted him to do, and when he turned back around, his eyes looked normal again, if not a little amused. “I forgot how much you hate moths,” he said, the edge in his voice gone. “I don’t get what’s so scary about them. It’s not like they bite.”

  She shivered. “Their bodies. They’re just so…thick and furry. And they flutter. And have that powdery stuff on their wings. Ugh. I can’t stand them. Now go wash your hands. You touched it.”

  With the shadow of a smile on his lips, Mateo headed into the bathroom. Selena took the opportunity to check her phone. Paula still hadn’t replied.

  She fired off another quick text. Everything okay?

  He returned a moment later, wiping his hands on a paper towel. “Who made those truffles?”

  “I did.”

  He frowned. “What’s in them?”

  “Not a lot. Just some high quality chocolate—the kind I always use—some cream and a splash of rum. Two different kinds.”

  A tiny muscle in his jaw ticked, indicating his inner turmoil. She recalled how he used to do that when dealing with the intense pressure he faced from his parents. His father was s
ome sort of powerful businessman. Banking, maybe. And his mother sat on various executive boards. Attend this exclusive boarding school, they’d tell him. Apply to these prestigious colleges. Do this in order to follow in your father’s footsteps. And for godssake, don’t lower your standards and settle for that townie girl you only see in the summer.

  “The rum,” he barked. “Get me the bottles.”

  She took them off the shelf and handed them to him. Crossing her arms, she waited for an explanation.

  He completely ignored the brand name bottle and focused on the unlabeled one, holding it up to the light. “Where did you get this?”

  “My customer provided it for me to use.” She explained that she’d thought it tasted a little strange and that the truffles hadn’t set up like they normally did, so she’d had to use both types.

  With a disgusted look on his face, he stared at the bottle. “Yeah, it’s this rum all right.”

  A feeling of dread began to form in her abdomen. Why hadn’t she listened to her intuition and not used it? “Something’s…wrong with it?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Oh my God.” As the potential demise of the business she’d worked so hard to build flashed before her eyes, she pulled out her phone. Having your best customer get sick from your food would not be a good thing.

  “Who are you calling?” he asked.

  “Paula’s not picking up, so I’m calling my customer directly. I need to warn—”

  “No.” He took the phone from her, and before she could protest, he stormed out with it and the bottle.

  She stood there in the center of the kitchen, mouth open in stunned silence. He returned a moment later, the bottle gone. A thick thatch of hair hung over one eye, making him look wild and uncontrollable.

  “Get your things, Selena.” When she didn’t immediately jump to do as she was told, he growled, “Now.”