I turn on the shower, count to three, then let out a loud groan. This should do the trick. I pad out of the bathroom and sigh. Jason is by the bed dumping out his K-Mart bags. “Jason, I can’t get the knot undone on my top. I tied it funny. Can you …”
“Um … okay.”
I pivot around and slowly brush my hair to the side. There’s only an inch between us, close enough I can enjoy the intense heat radiating from his body onto my bare flesh. Tickles all over. Everywhere. I glance back to watch as Jason hesitantly raises his hands to my neck. For some reason they’re balled into fists until he forces himself to unknot me. His pinky brushes against my wet, naked skin, sending another wave of tingles through me. Over too soon. He quickly unties the knot and yanks his hands away. My top falls, but I hold it in place with my arm to cover myself. “Thank you,” I say as I twirl around. I peek up at him under my eyelashes, forming my best seductive smile.
He’s stopped breathing. Stopped blinking even. His hands are fists again, his face his usual mask of nothingness, but there’s a trace of turmoil revolving in those eyes. He wants me. Bad. I can even smell it oozing from his every pore. I want him too. Every nerve calls to him. Just this, him being so close, those raw eyes on me and only me, I’m literally pulsing for him. Burning for him to be inside me. When it becomes a three-alarm fire, I raise my free hand to touch his stubbled face, to caress it.
Mistake.
The instant I move, the spell is broken. He blinks and the chaos vanishes, replaced with something akin to fright. Jason takes a step back. “You should take your shower now.”
Mortification acts like an allergic reaction, squeezing my throat closed. He has got to be fucking kidding. What am I, a crone with warts dotting her body? I’m all but naked and throwing myself at him, and he’s rejecting me? For the first time in years I feel … vulnerable. I fucking hate it. “Fine.” He takes another step back, probably in case I attempt to touch him again. I don’t. I walk to the safety of the bathroom and shut the door. That could have gone better.
I step into the shower and let the grime of the past two days slosh off. The stench of failure too. I haven’t been rejected so outright like that since puberty. What the hell is his problem? I know he said he wasn’t into casual sex, but he’s still a man. Sort of. He wants me, any fool can sense that. So it’s not me, it’s him. I just have to convince him to give in. Take a walk on the wild side. Good thing I’m a licensed tour guide there.
A setback. That was merely a setback. I shouldn’t have tried to touch him like that. I knew better. Just couldn’t help myself. Not again. He’s a tough nut to crack, one swift wallop won’t do it. Slowly wearing away at the shell at pressure points will. His resistance will crumble. It’s already begun to. Poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance.
Don’t know if it’s the shower or pep talk but I feel a hell of a lot better when I shut off the water ten minutes later. Smell better too. I wrap the tiny towel around myself, brush my teeth, grab the toiletry bag, and step out. Time to add some pressure. Blondie is over by the bed folding his new wardrobe while watching Die Hard or at least that’s what I think it is. The picture’s so fuzzy it could be Friends for all I know. He stops mid-fold when I open the door, face impassive as usual. “Bathroom’s all yours,” I say with a sweet smile.
“Uh, thank you,” he says, eyes down.
I swish over to the other side of the bed with my smile affixed. My prey continues his chore, glancing up only as I sit across from him. He glances again when I throw up a leg onto the bed and open the lotion bottle. “If you want,” I say nonchalantly as I massage lotion onto my leg, “I can finish packing for you while you shower.” I catch his eyes, which are glued to my exposed leg. For a split second, he’s startled at being caught, mouth gaping over for a millisecond, but I just grin. “I don’t mind. Really. The sooner you shower, the sooner we can … go to bed.” I switch legs. “I don’t know about you, but I’m just dying to slide under the sheets. I’m betting the feeling’s mutual.” Literally.
Jason grunts in affirmation as he diverts those eyes of his back to his clothes. Damn. I lower my leg and start lathering my arms. Still not acknowledging my presence, my shy friend grabs some clothes. “I’ll, um, be quick.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I say in a dusky voice as he rushes into the bathroom. He is so freaking adorable I can hardly stand it. Facing two werewolves with guns, cool as hell. Flash him a little leg, he becomes as flustered as a teenage girl around her celebrity heartthrob. He better be careful, the flattery will stretch my already overinflated self-image to the breaking point.
I reach for our suitcase, pulling it closer. What to wear, what to wear. Normally I sleep au natural, but since Blondie’s kind of a prude, he’d have a coronary if I was totally nude when he came out. The pajamas I bought are drab, shirts and long pants, but I could probably get away with a white thong and pink tank top. Slutty, yet girl next door. Perfect.
I change, adding white socks and braided pigtails to up the cutesie factor, then start packing as I promised. Should the shit hit the fan, and we need a quick getaway, I don’t want to have to go on another shopping spree. There’s no way in hell they’ll find us but still. Safe, sorry and all that jazz.
Blondie’s in the shower awhile, long enough for me to pack and apply a little makeup. I check myself in the mirror and smirk. Damn am I adorable. Close to irresistible. Up the sex kitten routine a tad more and despite this idiotic reluctance of his, I may just get my rollercoaster ride. Oh. Condoms. We didn’t buy any. Well, he did say he can’t get diseases, and I do have a year left with my IUD. I don’t—
Jason’s cell phone rings on the table. I glance over to read the display. With that one word my throat closes up.
Dad.
Shit. My first impulse is to toss the cell across the room, smash it into nothing, but my second is much stronger. Overpowering even. I swore to myself if the bastard ever reached out, a letter, a phone call, candygram, I’d never respond. Not even a, “Fuck you.” Werewolves trying to kill me kind of blew that plan. I’m going to be stuck in his house for the foreseeable future. Gonna be hard to avoid him. Fuck it. I pick up the cell and accept the call before I can stop myself. “J-Jason’s phone.”
There’s silence on the other end for a drawn-out second, then, “Vivian?”
Holy shit. That single word knocks the wind out of me. That’s my father. That’s my father on the other end of the phone. His voice. That’s what he sounds like. His voice isn’t as deep as I imagined. Of course I always thought he’d sound like Harrison Ford for some reason. Don’t know why I was always casting Ford as my dad. I did like Raiders as a child. Still, it—
“Vivi, are you still there?”
My real father’s voice snaps me out of the mental stupor I didn’t realize I was in. “Y-Yes, I’m here. Sorry.” Why the fuck am I apologizing to him?
“Are-Are you alright? How-How are you doing?” he asks nervously.
“F-Fine. W-We’re safe. Stopped for the night to get some rest.”
“Good.” A pause. “That’s good.”
More unbearable silence follows. I have no idea what to say. I always thought I’d scream or cuss or cry. Tell him what an asshole he was. How I didn’t need him. How I hoped he’d get cancer. Just thinking these things made me upset, angrier than normal even, so I put a stop to them and decided if he did reach out I’d ignore the gesture. Now the moment’s arrived, and I just feel … exhausted. Uncomfortable. Awkward. As if I’m stuck in a conversation with a stranger who I have nothing in common with. I just want it to end and walk away. It is an option. “Um … Jason’s in the shower right now.”
“Oh,” Frank says, sounding shocked for some reason. “Is he … how are you two getting along? Any troubles?”
“No. He’s … good. Quiet, but seems to be very good at what he does.”
“He is. There is no one I trust more with
my life. Or yours.”
“Oh. Good … to know.” Another pause. “So, I’m gonna … I’ll tell Jason you called.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, then … bye.”
I’m about to end the call when he says, “Vivi?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. For … everything.”
Silence, then, “Okay. Bye.” I hang up before he can utter another word.
I stare down at the phone, not sure what to do next. I just spoke to my father. He’s … real. I slump on the bed and keep staring. Shit, I’m really going to meet him. In a matter of days we’re going to be face-to-face. He won’t be this mythic monster I’ve created, who I’ve hung all my hatred on. He is a real man who breathes, sleeps, who kept tabs on me, apparently came to see me sing once, who sent his top man to save my life.
“Are you alright?”
My gaze whips from the damn phone to the bathroom door. I was so deep in thought I didn’t hear the shower shut off. Jason’s dressed in black sweat pants and white undershirt, his f.r.e.a.k.s. series blonde hair dripping. The shirt clings to his every muscle but my usual lust doesn’t rise. I feel nothing. Uncomfortably numb. “What?”
“You’re upset again,” he says, once again confused.
“I’m …” No idea. “Da—Frank called. I’m sorry, I answered it.” I hold up the phone. “I know I shouldn’t have but …”
“It’s fine,” Jason says, taking the cell. He stands above me, those blue eyes examining me again. I suddenly feel more than a little naked, probably because I almost am. “Did he say something?”
I know he means did Frank say something to upset me, but I don’t want to discuss it. “He just wants you to call him back.” I grab the suitcase for something to do. I can’t stand him looking at me anymore.
He gets the hint this time. “Okay. I’ll, uh, go outside.”
“Fine.”
Jason hangs his head before walking out. I stop searching for nothing inside the suitcase the moment the door shuts. So much for my seduction scene. Even if he did want to get it on, I sure as hell don’t anymore. Nothing kills the mood like having a head full of your father. I quickly remove my thong, exchanging it for pajama pants before turning off the TV.
“… no, it’s fine. I think we have enough,” Jason says outside. I stop moving. I shouldn’t listen, I know this … “Nothing since last night. Anything on the car?” Quiet. “She switched the plates so it shouldn’t be a problem unless we’re pulled over.” Silence. “Actually, very well. She’s been clear minded. Helpful. No breakdowns. She is definitely a Dahl.” That one brings a smile to my face. I’ve impressed him. Doubt that’s an easy feat. “I won’t, sir.” Quiet. “Of course not, Dad. She’s … your daughter. I would never take advantage of your trust.” Huh? “I know it’s for both our sakes.” Damn, I really want to hear what Frank’s saying. “I know,” Jason says, dejected. “I will. I love you too, Dad. Bye.”
Shit. I rush over to the bed as Jason enters so I don’t get caught eavesdropping. “Everything alright?” I ask.
He glances up at me, then back at the floor like a chastised child. “Fine.” He moves over to the suitcase across from me. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”
“Okay.”
Head bowed, he finds the toiletry bag and walks into the bathroom, closing the door. Okay, what the fuck did Frank say to him? From the way he refuses to look at me yet again, I’m positive it had to do with me. Taking advantage of me? That’s a laugh. If anyone’s taking advantage, it’s me. Obviously he’s attracted to me. But … fuck. I think I’m having a crisis of conscience. It only happens once every blue moon, so I can’t be sure. Tiny pit in my stomach? Almost sour taste in my mouth? Tiny voice in my head that began shouting when I stepped out intent on seducing him? All present and annoying.
I’m torturing the guy, aren’t I? In his mind, I’m his freaking sister. If he gave in, no doubt he’d end up hating himself. Or me. Especially if Frank, his mythic hero, got wind of it. Now I literally have a bad taste in my mouth. Damn it! God, I hate self-reflection. It’s such a downer. Fucking conscience. Fine, you win this time. Hope you’re happy. Fucker.
Jason steps out of the bathroom just as I pull the sheets back on the bed to get in. I glance over but that handsome head of his is still hung and mouth set with a scowl. Who’s he angry with, me, Frank or himself, I don’t know. Probably the latter. He moves over to the suitcase now on the table to replace the toiletry bag as I climb into bed.
With his back to me, he says, “Can you please throw me the other pillow?”
“Why?”
“It would be safer if I slept by the door,” he says, positioning the chair so its back is to the table.
“Safer?”
He places the pistol on the side of the table. “I can hear better from here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one knows we’re here. You need sleep. I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”
“I can sleep anywhere. I’ll be fine. I’m sleeping here,” he says with finality.
Wonderful. As if I wasn’t feeling guilty enough as is. I toss him the pillow as he sits. I’m too tired to put up much more of a fight. I flop down onto my pillow and flip my back to him. A second later Jason shuts off the overhead light. Bedtime. Or that’s the plan. Hard to put into practice though. I try to get comfortable, shifting around in the bed, but like the pillow the mattress is lumpy from overuse. Not that I could sleep on a cloud right now. With every creak of that chair he’s in, my guilt wretches up a notch. After about two minutes, it’s cranked up to eleven. My eyes fly open. “Jason, for God’s sake! Just get in the bed!”
“I’m fine here,” he insists.
“Right. I also wiggle around like a Mexican Jumping Bean when I’m comfortable. You need sleep. We both do. We’re safe here, okay? You’re no good to either of us without a clear head. I’m sorry for earlier, alright? I just … it was stupid of me. I’m not going to say another word, and I am not going to touch you, I swear on Nina Simone’s grave. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I know I put you in an awkward position. I wasn’t thinking. I am now. It will not happen again. So just … get in the fucking bed!”
There are a few tense, silent seconds before the chair creaks again as he rises. I keep my eyes shut as the bed shifts under his considerable bulk and the sound of him setting the gun on the nightstand. We lay back to back for a minute. Jason doesn’t get under the covers but that could just be because the man is a walking furnace. His heat radiates against my back. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, save for the tension I also sense wafting from him. The man’s barely breathing.
“I am sorry, you know,” I say. “I shouldn’t have fucked with you like I did. It was a shitty thing to do. Are we alright?”
Silence, then, “May I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“Why did you attempt to seduce me?”
A chuckle escapes. The man does love to go right to the heart of the matter. Cut through the bullshit. I can dig it. “I don’t know. Thought it’d be fun. Thought you’d be good in bed. You’re hot. I like you. You’re saving my life, thought it’d be a good way to start repaying my debt. Pick one.”
“You don’t owe me a debt,” he says. “And even if you did, you should not use your body to repay it. That’s beneath you.”
“That’s not what I …” I groan in frustration. “I wanted to sleep with you because I wanted to sleep with you. It happens. But don’t worry, the feeling has passed. Now just relax and go to sleep,” I say harshly.
“Fine. Good night.”
“Good night,” I snap.
Blondie and I simply lay back to back inches away, but it may as well be miles. And once again I’ve fucked everything up with the one person who’s trying to help me. Who I swore I wouldn’t hurt. It is a gift. My only one.
>
five
… the fuck?
The sudden spring in the bed jars me out of shallow sleep. Damn it, it took me an hour to push down the guilt enough for sleep to come, now this. The warmth behind me vanishes. Damn. My eyes flutter open, and I flip over. Quick as a cheetah, Jason moves toward the window, gun up and ready. That sight is like a shot of adrenaline to the heart, instantly waking me.
“What—”
“The dog’s growling and barking,” he says, peeking out of the curtains.
It’s faint, but I hear the pit bull too. “So?”
“Did the same with me. It’s threatened. Put on your shoes.”
“This is rid—”
“Put your shoes on, Vivian,” he orders, voice hard.
His tone sends a chill down my spine. I toss off the covers and rush over to him. His eyes never leave the crack in the curtains. “It’s probably just—”
His head cocks to the side and eyes close to hear better. “Get the suitcase, cell phone, and car key.” After slipping on my flip flops, I pull the suitcase off the table and grab the rest beside it. “Very quickly, I want you to run to the car and get in the driver’s seat. Stay low and out of sight. Do not let your presence be known,” he says, moving to the door then unlocking it. “Do not turn on the car. If something happens to me, drive and don’t stop until Maryland.”
“Jason—”
“Go. Now.”
He flings open the door and steps out, gun first. He swings it left then right to cover me. Shit. I sprint the twenty feet to the car, pressing the button to unlock it. The adrenaline makes it difficult to keep my hands steady so I fumble with the handle. When I get it open, I toss the suitcase in the backseat then climb into the front. The moment the door shuts Jason retreats back into the room, quietly shutting the door. I slip the key into the ignition and wait.
Werewolf Sings the Blues Page 9
