Immortal Angel

by Lynsay Sands

  Luckily for him, Ildaria had made sure to give the university her new address the day she’d moved into her new apartment. She hadn’t wanted to miss any notices, or the information packets about her courses. And so here he was, about to try to get her to confess she was the vigilante he’d become so obsessed with.

  Ildaria had no idea how he planned to do it, mainly because he had no idea either. He had no jurisdiction in Canada, but was hoping she didn’t know that and that the very name FBI would be enough to scare her into confessing. Worse yet, while he was supposed to track her down for the FBI, he was really doing it for himself and had no intention of turning her over to his bosses . . . unless she rejected him. Then he’d give his boss the information he had on her and leave it to him to get her charged and extradited for her vigilante activities back in Montana.

  More than a little irritated that her assistance, and actually saving the man’s life, was being paid back this way, Ildaria had no qualms about sliding into his mind and taking control of him. She quickly rearranged his memories of this meeting, put it into his mind that he was positive she couldn’t be his “angel,” eased his desire to find said “angel” and then sent him back to his car with the mindset to let go of his fruitless hunt, return to the head office, and move on to his next case.

  She watched him drive out of the parking lot, worrying about any other possible repercussions from that video. Lucian had seen it and dragged her here. Jack Barr had found her because of it. What if Juan or one of his people saw it? Would she have to go on the run again?

  Mouth tightening, Ildaria closed and locked her car door then headed inside, quite sure she wouldn’t be reading her “homework” now.

  Ildaria was wrong. After pacing and fretting uselessly for half an hour, she actually snatched up one of the books Sofia had insisted on getting just to escape her worries for a bit. It had actually worked. The stories were engrossing and worked beautifully at taking her away from her own life for a bit. Ildaria managed to read all of one, and half of a second book before she had to stop to get ready for work.

  She was actually looking forward to continuing with the stories after work. But not for any seduction advice they offered. There wasn’t really much help regarding that. It seemed to her that the sex in the books was situational, rather than a matter of seduction. The women didn’t wear risqué outfits, or spout suggestive lines to lure the men. It just kind of happened. But, she still wanted to finish reading the one she was halfway through, and then move on to the other books. Because, much to her surprise, she was actually enjoying them. The one she’d finished and the one she’d started weren’t at all the bodice rippers she’d expected. The stories were full of adventure and action, with heroines that were strong and intelligent, not helpless creatures needing rescuing. They fought alongside the men in the stories, saving themselves and occasionally even saving their male counterparts. She was enjoying them, and anything that took her mind off Juan and the possibility of his finding her was a welcome diversion.

  Of course, her worries about G.G. leaving and Juan finding her returned the moment she put the second book down and began to get ready for work. And it continued to weigh on her mind as she worked, but Ildaria was no closer to coming up with a solution to either problem by the time her eight hours of office work were done.

  Since keeping G.G. from leaving was the larger concern in her mind, she continued to ponder the problem as she took H.D. up to her apartment to wait for G.G. to collect him.

  Maybe if she quit working for him, she thought. Then G.G. would have no reason to flee and she could come to the club as a customer and . . . what? The what was the problem. She still had no idea how to handle the situation. Could she even afford to come here without a job? Not to mention, she’d be homeless. The apartments were for employees; if she quit she’d have to find somewhere else to live.

  Things would be a lot easier if she could just tell him the truth and work things out from there. G.G. might have a thing about turning, but that didn’t mean he would refuse to be her life mate . . . necessarily. She wasn’t sure. Besides, if she succeeded at seducing him, as Sofia wanted her to do, he’d realize he was her life mate the moment they did. Life mates felt each other’s pleasure and then passed out at the end. Although the passing out part wasn’t guaranteed. There were instances where it didn’t happen. But the shared pleasure part definitely happened every time and would give away that they were life mates.

  She wasn’t sure what to do now. Tell him, not tell him. Seduce him, not seduce him.

  H.D. shifted beside her on the couch. When she glanced down, he craned his head around, and licked her hand where it rested on his shoulder.

  “Hey, sweetie. Feeling neglected? Sorry, I’m just trying to sort out what to do about your daddy,” she murmured, rubbing him between the ears, and then smiling faintly, she asked, “Any advice?”

  H.D. tilted his head and then got to his feet, rested his paws on her chest, and licked her chin.

  Chuckling, Ildaria scooped him up and got up from the couch. “How about a treat to make up for neglecting you?” she asked, carrying him to the kitchen.

  Recognizing the word treat, H.D. panted excitedly, and went wild in her arms, desperate to lick any bit of flesh he could reach: hands, neck, chin.

  Laughing, Ildaria set him on the floor in the kitchen and moved to the refrigerator. She retrieved a container of cherry yogurt as well as the homemade dog treats G.G. had given her, and set both on the counter, then retrieved a bowl and spoon. She quickly scooped out some yogurt, and then retrieved a treat from the second container before returning both to the fridge.

  “Come on,” she said lightly to H.D., heading out of the kitchen. Sitting on the couch, she set the bowl of yogurt on the coffee table, and then offered the homemade bone-shaped cookie to H.D. The pup nearly took her finger off snatching it from her.

  “Keep that up and I’ll stop giving you treats, buddy,” she warned. Not that he listened. He was too busy devouring his cookie. Shaking her head, Ildaria grabbed her bowl, and started to sit back, only to pause when she realized she’d forgotten a spoon. Setting the bowl down, she hurried to the kitchen for one. It only took her a moment, but she returned to find H.D. with his front paws up on the coffee table and his face buried in her yogurt.

  “H.D.!” she barked.

  The Bichonpoo startled, jerking back before his chin was out of the bowl and bringing it down on top of himself.

  “Oh damn!” Ildaria gasped, hurrying forward to snatch up the pup before he could spread the mess around. She started to bring him to her chest, but then realized she was still wearing her work clothes, and held him away from her body instead.

  “Well, it’s your own fault,” Ildaria said firmly when H.D. yipped in protest at the way he was being carried. But she also moved a little more quickly, rushing up the hall to the bathroom to set him in the tub. She expected H.D. to try to scramble out right away, but he surprised her and instead dropped to sit and set about trying to lick the yogurt off himself.

  Ildaria didn’t risk leaving him alone though. She quickly undid the buttons of her blouse, removed it and hung it from the hook on the bathroom door, then knelt beside the tub in just her skirt and bra.

  H.D. was still trying to lick himself clean. An impossible task. There was no way he could reach the yogurt on his head and back. Which meant bath time for H.D. The only problem was Ildaria didn’t have any dog shampoo for him. But she didn’t want to leave H.D. on his own for the length of time it would take to fetch it. At least, not until she’d rinsed the worst of the yogurt off him.

  Grabbing the handheld showerhead from its holder, she pointed it away from H.D. and turned on the water, waiting and repeatedly checking the water sprinkling out of it until it felt warm enough. Then she pushed the button on the handle until the sprinkle turned into a light spray. She used that to rinse H.D. off.

  H.D. did not like baths. That became apparent rather quickly. The minute the first s
plash of water hit him, the pup began trying to climb out of the tub and up her chest, soaking her through. Ildaria tried to urge him back into the tub, but it was impossible with one hand. Deciding she couldn’t get much wetter, Ildaria left him pressed to her chest, held him in place there with her free hand and simply leaned forward over the tub so that most of the water would land in it as she rinsed him down.

  Once she had the worst of the yogurt removed, and the water ran clear, Ildaria turned off the showerhead. She tried to set him back in the tub then but he still wasn’t having that. Pressing closer, he rubbed his face against the cloth of her bra, and then pretty much tried to bury his head inside it between her breasts.

  “Come on,” she said with amusement, getting back to her feet. “Let’s get you dry.”

  H.D. didn’t respond except to press his snout deeper into her bra until she snatched the towel off the rack next to the tub and wrapped it over him. Then he lifted his head out and tried to bury himself in what he could reach of that.

  “Si. Enjoy it while you can,” Ildaria murmured, rubbing the towel over his back as she carried him back out of the bathroom. “But your bath isn’t done. We still have to find your shampoos and give you a proper bath or you’ll be sticky.”

  She didn’t know if H.D. would have understood her words, but it didn’t matter. She was pretty sure he couldn’t hear them what with the way he was twisting his head back and forth against the towel.

  Wrapping him more firmly in the cloth, Ildaria carried him out to the kitchen to fetch the keys G.G. had given her to his apartment in case of emergencies. She then took him across the hall to fetch the dog shampoo and conditioner.

  Ildaria found them under the kitchen sink where G.G. had told her they would be the first night she’d watched H.D. after moving into her apartment. Then she carried him and the items back to her apartment and straight to the bathroom to set him in the tub again.

  Ignoring the betrayed expression he was now giving her, Ildaria gave him a proper bath this time, soaping him up with the dog shampoo and rinsing him, then soaping him up again and repeating the rinsing process, before moving on to the conditioner.

  Ildaria had never realized they had such a thing as dog conditioner, but H.D. had small tight curls that G.G. swore became a frizzy tangled mess if the conditioner wasn’t used, so she applied it liberally, and let it sit for a couple of minutes, before rinsing that off him as well.

  The first towel was a sopping mess and a new one was needed for drying him this time, but Ildaria slicked her hands over H.D. first, removing as much of the liquid as she could. It helped that H.D. gave a shake as she grabbed a fresh towel for him. Well, it helped him, but just managed to soak her even further, sending water spraying everywhere. Her bra was already soaked through so it made little difference there, but now her face and hair were soaking too.

  Ignoring that, Ildaria wrapped H.D. up in the towel and scooped him out of the tub. She then knelt to set him on the floor, intending to rub him dry, but the moment she set him down, H.D. scampered out of the bathroom. The towel was dragged along the first few feet, but fell off as he skittered out the door and turned right.

  “H.D.!” Leaping back to her feet, Ildaria hurried after him, catching up to him just at the entry to the living room. She noticed G.G.’s black Doc Martens only a couple feet away as she scooped up the pup. Straightening abruptly, she clutched H.D. to her chest and took a startled step back, as she took in G.G.’s stunned expression. Blushing, she muttered, “Sorry. I was bathing H.D. and didn’t know you were here.”

  “I knocked,” he said quickly as if she might think he hadn’t. “When you didn’t answer I got worried and used my key.”

  Ildaria had enough wit to realize the sound of the shower must have kept her from hearing the knock, but that was all the wit she had at the moment. G.G. hadn’t been this close to her in quite a while, not since shortly after the shared dreams had started. That was when real contact between them had stopped. She didn’t remember being affected by his nearness like this before the dreams, but right now she was experiencing a strange . . . awareness. That was the only way she could think to describe it. It was like the very cells in her body were all suddenly wide awake and hopping about inside her with a strange excitement that turned to horrible disappointment when he suddenly began to back away and then turned toward the door saying, “I should go. Good night.”

  Ildaria was so stunned by the abruptness of his retreat that she might have let him go, except she was still holding H.D. G.G. was leaving without his dog. He was also muttering something under his breath. Even with her superior hearing, all she caught was what sounded like “turning into a bloody pervert.”

  “They’re shared dreams,” she blurted.

  G.G. paused at the mouth of the short hall to the door, but didn’t turn or say anything. He just stood as if frozen.

  Ildaria hesitated briefly, and then licked her lips and said to his back, “You’re a possible life mate for me, G.G., and you’ve been experiencing shared dreams. I’ve been with you for every one.”

  That did make him turn, but his eyes were doubting. “You weren’t—it didn’t feel like you were there.”

  “I know. Sofia said you were sure you were alone,” she said quietly.

  “She knows I hate it when she reads my mind,” G.G. complained with irritation.

  “She probably wasn’t trying to read your mind,” Ildaria said quickly, not wanting him to be angry with Sofia when she had only been trying to help. “Marguerite says new life mates tend to have an issue keeping their thoughts to themselves. She says it’s like we are screaming our thoughts, that no reading is needed at all.”

  He grunted at that, and then said with uncertainty, “Were you really sharing the dreams?”

  “Si,” she assured him. “But I was—I just—I let you take the lead because . . .” She swallowed, surprised to feel little prickles of heat ride up the back of her neck and head and sweat start under her arms. She hadn’t expected this to be so hard. Finally, she simply said, “I don’t have the experience to take the lead when it comes to sex, so I just let you control the dreams. But I was there.” She paused briefly and then added, “The first dream took place in your office. On the desk.”

  When he just stared at her, she added, “I can’t remember which dream came next but last night’s involved chains.” When he continued to stare blankly, she added, “But they’ve taken place everywhere. There were others in the office, some here in my apartment, some in yours, some in every room of the Night Club, at the beach, in the dressing room of a clothing store, and some in England I think. At least, it was somewhere I’ve never been before and there were people there with English accents.”

  G.G.’s shoulders sagged and Ildaria knew he believed her even before he said, “It was the Night Club in England.”

  “Oh,” she said softly, but was recalling the rooms she’d seen in the dreams there and thinking the man had good taste. The Night Club in England was as impressive as this one, if not more. The rooms were more . . . posh, she supposed was the best description. More sedate, old-fashioned class, fit for Lords and Ladies, similar to the room the dream had taken place in last night. But the other rooms here were more relaxed. It made her wonder if there were more relaxed rooms in the Night Club in England as well that she just hadn’t yet seen.

  “So . . .”

  Ildaria shifted her attention back to G.G. to see the frown on his face.

  “You were sharing the dreams but not really contributing to them because you lack experience,” he murmured. “You’re over two hundred years old and still a . . . ?”

  “I’m not a virgin,” Ildaria said stiffly. “I’m just inexperienced.”

  She wasn’t surprised to see the confusion on his expression, but it wasn’t something she could clear up quickly. Straightening her shoulders, she said, “We need to talk. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

  G.G. hesitated, his g
aze flickering downward briefly before returning to her face. “Better yet, I will make the hot chocolate while you change into something . . .” Grimacing, he said, “Just go put some clothes on or talking won’t be what we do.”

  Ildaria glanced down. H.D. was cuddled between her breasts, leaving her bra on display. It was a very old bra, embarrassingly old, and it was so thin that—wet as it was—it was as see-through as that veil nightie would have been. Ildaria felt her face flush with heat, but refused to let her embarrassment show otherwise and lifted her chin defiantly as she muttered, “Fine. I’ll be right back.”

  Turning on her heel then, she headed for her room. Ildaria had the brief concern that he might flee once she was out of sight, but H.D.’s squirming to a more comfortable position in her arms had her relaxing. The man might want to flee now that he knew they were possible life mates, but he wouldn’t go without H.D. This was an instance where “man’s best friend,” was true. Because that man loved his dog.

  The minute Ildaria set H.D. on the bed, the fur ball dove headfirst into the pillows and then dragged himself across her blankets, doing his best to dry himself.

  Shaking her head at his antics, Ildaria spared a moment to rub the little beast down, and then straightened to strip off her clothes. She was soaked through, not just her bra, but her skirt and panties had also taken a soaking from the water dripping down from the dog against her chest. She donned a fresh pair of white cotton panties, and an equally boring white cotton bra. This set was as worn and threadbare as the ones she’d just taken off, but they were clean. She didn’t even consider the black lace lingerie set she’d purchased after the first shared dreams. What they had to talk about was not going to lead to anything that would call for black lace.