by Lynsay Sands
Pet didn’t wait for him to agree but walked to the French doors. She was just reaching for the handle of the door on the right when the door on the left started to open. Pausing, she took a surprised step back and then relaxed when she spotted Marguerite on the porch with her big dog at her side.
“There you are,” Marguerite said with obvious relief when she spotted her. “When I went to check on you and found you gone, I did not know what to think. I started to worry that last night’s intruder had returned and stolen you away.”
“Oh.” Pet’s eyes widened, but she said quickly, “I’m sorry. I looked through the house when I woke up, but didn’t see anyone anywhere and came over to find out where Parker went. I was in a bit of a panic myself.”
“It must have been when I took J to the backyard,” Marguerite said with a grimace. “I am sorry for the confusion. I meant to be there when you woke up to tell you where Parker had gone.”
“Ah, well, best laid plans,” Pet said with a wry smile, waving away the apology. “It’s all good now, though.”
“Yes.” Marguerite glanced from her to Santo. “Were you heading somewhere?”
“Shopping,” Santo growled.
Pet rolled her eyes at that and explained, “I mentioned to Julius about needing to get a few things for Mrs. Wiggles, and he decided it would be a good idea if Santo accompanied me. That way I can help pick out the coffee table and headboard to replace the ones they broke up last night.”
“Oh, yes. A good idea.” Marguerite smiled and moved inside and out of the way for them to leave. “I will go see if Julius needs a second pair of eyes watching the Purdy house while you are gone then. Have a nice time.”
Pet managed a smile and murmured, “You too,” as she led Santo out of the house and headed for her car. She was nearly to it when Santo took her elbow and urged her to continue down the driveway past it.
“What—?” she began.
“The SUV is bigger,” Santo announced.
Pet glanced back over her shoulder at her pretty little red Toyota 86 and sighed as she realized that they wouldn’t be able to fit a coffee table and headboard in it. The SUV would work better. Still, it would have been nice if he’d said more than the SUV is bigger. Shaking her head, she turned forward again and allowed him to lead her around the hedges to the black SUV parked in the Caprellis’ driveway. Her gaze went from it to the huge RV next to it, and Pet commented, “When I first met Marguerite and Julius yesterday, they mentioned that they drove here in the RV.”
“Sì,” Santo said as he opened the door for her.
Pet climbed inside and turned just in time to see the door close. Sighing, she watched Santo walk around to the driver’s side and slide in, but when he merely did up his seat belt and started the vehicle, she asked, “Why did they drive the RV? Why not drive an SUV like you guys did?”
They were the only two vehicles in the driveway, and the RV had been the only one there when she’d first arrived and met Marguerite and Julius, so it was a safe bet the men had arrived in the SUV, she thought as she waited for his answer. She just didn’t understand what the RV was for. They were gas guzzlers. Not something you’d drive around in unless you needed a place to sleep, but they were all sleeping in the house.
“They were already in the RV,” he said, and then added, “Do up your seat belt.”
Pet reached for the belt and drew it impatiently across herself to snap it in its holder, but asked, “Why were they in the RV? Were they on vacation or something?”
“Sì.”
That was it. Just sì. Was he saying sì to the vacation or the something? she wondered grimly, and shook her head. It was like the man had no comprehension of how conversations were meant to go. That was a thought that recurred to her several times over the next two hours as they stopped first at the pet store and then at her sister’s favorite furniture store. Pet was naturally chatty and cheerful, but it didn’t matter what she asked Santo, his answers were either sì or no, with the occasional three- or four-word almost-sentence that revealed little more than sì or no. Frankly, talking to the man was hard work and exhausting. She soon grew tired of the effort and allowed a heavy silence to fall between them. She also rushed the trip along, eager to be done with it.
In the end, they weren’t gone more than an hour. It felt like a hundred, and by the time he pulled into the driveway behind her Toyota, Pet was so angry she couldn’t stand another minute with him. She’d decided that he definitely must have controlled her to make her want him last night, because there was absolutely nothing about him that was attractive to her now.
The minute the SUV came to a stop, Pet had her seat belt off and was sliding out of the vehicle. She had nearly two hours before she had to go pick up Parker, and she was thinking she should load everything she could into her car now, to save time later.
“Food?”
Pet was crossing the front yard to the porch when Santo said that. Pausing at the porch steps, she turned and arched her eyebrows in question. “I’m sorry. What does ‘food’ mean? Do you want some? Are you asking if I have any? What?”
Santo’s eyes widened at her snarky tone, but he said, “I was asking if you are hungry.”
“Well, then, why didn’t you ask that?” she said with exasperation, and spun around to jog up the steps.
Santo stared after Pet for a moment, trying to figure out what had happened between the SUV and here to upset her. Everything had been going rather well as far as he could tell. They’d done all they’d needed to do, and managed it all rather quickly. A successful trip to his mind. Obviously, things hadn’t gone as well as he’d thought, though. That, or he’d done something to annoy her. Or perhaps it was the front door that had been installed while they were gone, he thought as he watched her open the new door and enter the house. It was similar to the old door but not exactly the same. Perhaps that distressed her. Nodding at that thought, he followed her inside.
Pet was at the base of the stairs about to go up when he entered the house. Santo forestalled her by commenting, “You seem angry.”
Pet snorted and started up the steps.
“Is it the door?” he asked solemnly.
“What?” Stopping abruptly, she whirled back with an expression of disbelief and then turned to look at the door and blinked. Her face softened at once, the angry tension leaving her as she moved back down the stairs and walked over to run her hand down the oak door. “Wow, they did a great job fixing it. I can’t believe I didn’t even notice. It looks good, don’t you think?”
Santo grunted agreement, his thoughts on what might have upset her. It obviously wasn’t the door. She appeared to approve of that, he thought.
“Tell me,” Pet said suddenly, “when you grunt, is that a yes or a no?”
Santo glanced up with surprise at her question.
Before he could say anything Marguerite appeared in the hall behind Pet and came forward smiling. “You are back. How lovely. How was shopping?”
“It went well,” he assured her and Pet swung on him, her expression shocked.
“It did?” she asked with disbelief.
“Sì,” he said, surprised by her reaction.
“How did it go well?”
Santo’s eyebrows rose slightly at the question, but he said, “We got everything.”
When she narrowed her eyes at that, he added, “The table is nice.”
“You liked it?” Pet asked, seeming surprised.
“Sì.”
“And the headboard?” she asked now.
“Perfect. Almost exactly like the original.”
“You liked that too?” she asked.
“Sì,” Santo said, starting to frown now. She was getting more upset by the minute and he didn’t understand why. She let him know why, of course.
“That’s interesting,” Pet said now. “Because when I asked you in the store for your opinion, all you did was grunt. In fact, all you’ve done since I got up today is give me grunts, sì or n
o answers, or very short responses to my direct questions. Honestly, getting information out of you is like pulling teeth. I can’t figure out if you’re just too stupid to be able to put more than three or four words together at a time, or if this is your way of letting me know that you consider last night a mistake and regret it. But, really, I don’t care anymore. ’Cause I’m definitely over whatever craziness had me responding to your kisses. I’m done. The door’s fixed. You’ve replaced what you broke. Feel free to go back to the Caprellis’ and forget I even exist, because I fully intend on forgetting all about you.”
On that note, she whirled on her heel and stomped upstairs, her ponytail swaying angrily back and forth.
Santo gaped after her, taken aback by her attack. At least it felt like an attack. But then most people found his size so intimidating that it was rare indeed that anyone even raised their voice to him, while she had not just yelled, she’d called him stupid. That made him scowl and wonder if she really was his life mate, after all. Were they not supposed to be your complement? The one you could not live without? Because he could certainly live without being called—
“Santo.”
He glanced around, surprised to see Marguerite still standing there. He’d forgotten all about her, but her presence just made matters worse. She’d heard Pet call him stupid.
“A word, please,” Marguerite requested gently.
“Go ahead,” he growled.
But rather than start speaking, she glanced to the side. He followed her gaze to see Bricker sitting in the living room, watching them with interest. It seemed he too had witnessed Pet’s tirade.
“The kitchen?” she suggested.
Nodding, he gestured for her to lead the way.
Seven
Pet strode into her room, snatched up her overnight case, and began replacing the few things she’d removed from it. There wasn’t much. She hadn’t really unpacked. Still, by the time she’d finished and zipped up the bag, the worst of her temper had run out and she felt stupid for losing it in the first place. She knew anger was a secondary emotion triggered by fear, whether it was fear of being helpless or trapped in a situation, fear for one’s physical or emotional or mental well-being, or fear of rejection . . . which was the basis of her anger, of course. She’d only realized it, though, as she’d lashed out at Santo with the accusation that he was either stupid or trying to let her know that he was no longer interested in her. That had been the reason behind her mounting frustration during their outing. Fear of rejection.
Dear God, she’d decided last night that it was better to avoid Santo. But when circumstances had thrown them together for the shopping trip and he’d been so uncommunicative and short, she’d feared he was rejecting her and flipped.
“Ridiculous,” Pet muttered, but knew the truth was she could tell herself that avoiding him was for the best, all she wanted, but that didn’t mean she was suddenly going to just stop being attracted to him. And while she’d said she was done, Pet suspected if he kissed her again, she’d respond just as eagerly. She’d like to think otherwise, but just remembering those few moments in the kitchen had her body responding. Sitting next to him in the SUV had been worse, though. Being just inches away from him, surrounded by his scent, able to feel the heat emanating off his body . . . She’d wanted so badly to touch him, but he hadn’t even seemed to want to talk to her.
“Pathetic,” she said under her breath, and grabbed her bag. She’d start loading the car. She might not be able to pack for Parker, but there were other things she could load, starting with her bag.
“She is your life mate.”
Santo came to a halt when Marguerite paused in the center of the kitchen and swung around to make that announcement. He scowled at the words and then shook his head. “But she—”
“Wants you to speak,” Marguerite interrupted gently. “I know that is difficult for you. You have spent more than two thousand years avoiding people and not talking. It has only been the last couple of decades or so that you have allowed yourself to enjoy the company of others, and even now, you mostly listen rather than talk. But she is your life mate, Santo. And she is mortal. While she has some knowledge of our existence, Pet has no idea that she is a possible life mate to you, or what that means. You will have to explain it to her, and even then she will not automatically just fall in with it. She will need to be wooed, and she will need to get to know you. She cannot read your mind as I can and see how good and fine a man you are.”
“You can read me,” he said heavily. It wasn’t a question so much as a resigned acknowledgment. Immortals as old as he could only be read when they allowed it, or for the first year or two after meeting a life mate. It was another sign that they had met one, they briefly lost control of their ability to shield their thoughts from others. If Marguerite, who was much younger than him, could read him, then Pet was definitely his life mate. The thought made him scowl and he complained, “She does not like me.”
Marguerite smiled and shook her head. “She does not dislike you, Santo. She is just frustrated that you will not speak to her properly and is taking it as a lack of interest.”
Santo’s mouth tightened. Lack of interest indeed. He’d spent the last hour fighting the urge to take her in his arms, but all he said was, “I dislike talking.”
“Well, you had best learn to like it, because you will not win Pet without it. The days of cavemen thumping women over the head and dragging them off to their caves are over.”
“Pity,” he growled irritably.
Marguerite rolled her eyes at that and said, “The modern woman is free to come and go as she pleases, so you had best start giving her a reason to want to stay.”
Santo grimaced, but then stilled and lifted his head slightly as an idea struck him.
Obviously still reading his thoughts, Marguerite tsked with exasperation and said, “And that does not mean instigating life mate sex to try to tie her to your side.”
“Why not?” Santo asked, almost embarrassed at how petulant he sounded. “It would bind her.”
“So would rope,” she snapped impatiently.
Santo nodded thoughtfully, almost wishing his conscience would allow him to actually do that. Not tying her up permanently, but just temporarily while he showed her what shared dreams could be like, which would hopefully lead to life mate sex, and—
“Santo,” Marguerite said with a shock that assured him she was still in his head.
“It was just a thought,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.
Marguerite glared at him briefly, but then asked, “Do you want to be a true partner to her, or a vibrator with legs?”
“What?” Santo gaped at her. He thought he knew what she was talking about, but his brain was having difficulty putting the words together with the sweet, refined woman he’d always known as his aunt. Perhaps he was misunderstanding. English wasn’t his first language, after all, so he asked, “What is a vibrator?”
“Exactly what you think it is,” she said grimly, and then sighed and reasoned, “And if you use life mate sex to claim her and do not allow her to get to know you at the same time, that is all you will be to her.”
Santo suspected that was supposed to sway him, but really, what was wrong with being a vibrator with legs? She could use him, play with him, pleasure herself with him. He had no problem being used and played with, especially since her pleasure would be his pleasure, and he wouldn’t have to talk to her—
“Santo,” Marguerite gritted out, still in his head and obviously striving for patience. “Pet cannot love someone she does not know.”
“She would get to know parts of me,” he argued, still not convinced it would be a bad approach.
“She would get to know your penis,” Marguerite said bluntly. “And a woman cannot love a penis, no matter how talented it is. She will use it and enjoy it, but not love it, and so she would have no reason not to leave it and go find another equally talented penis, one that might actually talk to her.”
>
“That would be a very talented penis,” Santo pointed out with amusement. When Marguerite didn’t even crack a smile, he sighed and then shrugged and said arrogantly, “We are life mates. No other penis could pleasure her like me.”
Marguerite arched her eyebrows. “No other penis could pleasure her like ‘you’? Not ‘like yours’? You realize you just called yourself a dickhead, which is how you are acting right now.” When he flushed, she added, “And it is not necessarily true that no one could pleasure her like you. While it is rare for a mortal to be a possible life mate to two immortals, it does happen. As you well know,” she added heavily.
Santo frowned. He did know. It had happened to his cousin Raffaele just weeks ago while they were in Punta Cana. A woman named Jessica had been a possible mate for Raffaele and another immortal. Santo briefly fretted over the possibility that such a thing could happen again, but then shook his head. “The chances of that happening—”
“Are not zero,” Marguerite interrupted. “But even if that did not end up being the case for Pet, are you really fine with her walking away even temporarily to sleep with countless men to find out for herself that none can pleasure her like you?”
Santo stiffened at the very suggestion. No, he would not be fine with that. She was his.
“Me Tarzan, you Jane,” Marguerite muttered.
“What?” he asked with confusion.
“Nothing,” she said shortly, and then shook her head. “I am just a bit dismayed to realize that, despite your stalwart support of family members, and efforts to ease everyone else’s situation, a Neanderthal has been hiding under that silence of yours all this time.”
Santo clenched his hands at the insult. “I am not a Neanderthal.”
“Then stop acting like one and acknowledge that to claim Pet you will need to win her trust and love,” Marguerite suggested grimly.
Santo glowered at her, but after a moment, gave in and nodded. “Fine. How?”
Marguerite relaxed a bit and said quietly, “I told you. You need to speak to her so that she can see who you are.”
