The thought fueled him with fury, made him work in and out of her harder, his hand clutching her ass in a bloodless grip. The beast rose in him, intent on possessing her so that she would never forget this—him.
She clung to him, crying out her own release the moment before he reached his. He clutched her close, staggering a bit, shudders shaking him. Her legs still wrapped around him, he looked down into her flushed face, drowning in her probing gaze, unnerved at the knowledge that he could hide nothing from this woman. Even if her interpretation was sometimes off, she felt everything he felt.
Alarming. Terrifying. Because what he felt right now was that in this moment, in this room, with this woman… he had found what he never knew he wanted, but what he had been running toward all his life.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I had meant to start with a simple ‘good morning’ when I came downstairs.”
A smile shook her lips.
“Did I hurt you?” He brushed a thumb against her cheek. She’d been hurt too many times since they first met. He didn’t want to heap any more pain on her. She’d felt enough of that lately.
“You didn’t hurt me.” Her smile deepened. “I’ve learned that I am quite resilient.”
Yes. Staring into her pewter eyes, he wondered how he could have forgotten that. Those were eyes he had hunted for as long as he could remember. Eyes he had watched fade to mortal shades following the death shots he delivered.
A sound emerged, low in the distance. “Someone’s coming,” he growled.
Ruby slid her legs to the floor and darted to the front door, peering out through the curtains. “I don’t see anyone—”
“Listen.” He tucked himself back in his jeans. “You’ll see soon enough.”
She cocked her head to the side, gaze shifting, flitting about as she listened. “You’re right. I hear a car.”
Several more moments passed. Sebastian moved to stand beside her. “Are you expecting anyone?”
She shook her head. “No. Later—”
“There,” he cut in as the gleaming hood of a car cleared the trees that crowded the end of her dirt driveway.
“Oh. It’s Adele. My friend.” She straightened, shifting on her feet, frowning at him. “Maybe you should go upstairs.”
“You want to hide me from your friend?”
“Just—”
“Have you told her what happened to you in Istanbul?”
“Yes.”
The skin of his face tightened. Whatever she had said about Sebastian must not have been good if she wanted him to hide. It wouldn’t be the first time. His mother had treated him like a dirty little secret—her shame.
Ruby waved a hand. “Just until I explain you—”
“No problem.” Turning, he marched up the steps.
“Give me a few moments and I’ll get rid of her. I made breakfast. You must be hungry—”
He continued, not looking back.
“Sebastian,” she called, but he didn’t stop. He walked until he was in her bedroom. Once there, he looked around, trying not to inhale the scent of sex emanating from the bed. Dragging a hand through his hair, he wondered what the hell he was doing with Ruby Deveraux.
21
“He’s here?” Adele lifted her gaze to the ceiling, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “What’s he doing here? Why haven’t you called the cops on his ass?”
Ruby smiled, despite how much she didn’t feel like it. Sebastian was up there, angry with her. And she wasn’t quite sure why. “You don’t need to whisper, Adele. He can probably hear you anyway.”
The color bled from her friend’s face. She looked up at the ceiling again, big hair tossing as she dropped her head back.
“And no, we shouldn’t call the police. What would I tell them? I have a half-breed lycan in my bedroom? Oh, and I’m one, too, by the way. Well, worse. I’m a full lycan, so don’t come ringing my doorbell when the moon’s full or I might—”
“Whoa, back up.” Adele waved a hand, palm up, fingers splayed wide. “He’s in your bedroom? What’s that about? Guest room too small?” She arched a brow and crossed her arms over the large breasts pushing against her tight purple tee. “Did you forget to mention any other details about when you were in Istanbul?”
Ruby bit her lip. Maybe a small detail. Like losing her virginity. Lying would be pointless. Even if telling heat did not sweep her face, Adele could always sniff out when Ruby was less than honest. Inhaling, Ruby looked her squarely in the eyes and let her read what truth she would.
“You did not!” Adele tossed her handbag to the floor and propped her hands on her waist. “All these years you held out, and then you just give it up to him?”
“Don’t get mad. You’re the one who always told me I put too much importance on sex. That I should just do it and—”
“You’ve known this guy for how long? What happened to all that talk of holding out for someone special?”
She swallowed, stopping herself from declaring that it was special… that it had been special. That being with Sebastian felt right. And more than that. It was a compulsion she couldn’t resist. But with Sebastian upstairs, she didn’t dare say any of that.
Adele shook her head. “What a hypocrite.”
Adele’s disappointed gaze hurt. Which, in turn, angered Ruby. “At least I don’t give it up to just any guy.”
Adele pulled back, inhaling sharply. “Meaning, I do?” Over her anger, Ruby picked up her hurt. “At least I’m out there living, enjoying my life instead of hiding. And last time I checked, the guys I take to bed are human.”
Ruby flinched. “I don’t need you judging me right now.”
“Right.” Adele snatched up her purse and dug through the contents. “You just need me when I can do something for you.” She slammed a box of syringes and a couple vials of liquid on the side table beside the couch. “According to Dwayne, it takes about thirty minutes to go into effect after injection.” She marched toward the door and pulled it open. “Call me when your friend leaves and you need me again. I’m a slut, remember? I’m good at being used.”
“Adele.” Ruby stretched out her hand but she was already out the door.
She moved into her living room and dropped down on the sofa. Shaking her head, she lowered her face into her hands. “Shit.”
“That was quick.” Between her fingers, she spied Sebastian’s feet stepping in front of her.
She lowered her hands. “Not my best moment.”
“Yeah, well. Personalities have been known to change after infection… boldness and aggression come hand in hand with being a lycan.”
“I guess calling my best friend a slut is… bold.”
Sebastian picked the bottle of pills off the table. “What’s this?”
“Sedatives.” She smiled without humor. “I told you I would look after myself. That I have friends who can help me.”
“Your friend is a doctor?”
“No. Her cousin’s a pill pusher.”
“A pharmacist?”
“No. Dwayne doesn’t exactly have a license.”
His dark brows pulled together. “You went to some drug dealer?”
Ruby pushed to her feet. “I couldn’t exactly go to a doctor and get a prescription.” She stalked past him, stopping at the stairs. “I didn’t think someone who spends his life killing could be such a moral prig.”
“Ruby.” He spoke her name as if striving for patience. She felt his frustration… his disappointment. Fantastic. Apparently she was all about disappointing those close to her this morning. “The less people who know about you the better—”
“She didn’t tell Dwayne what it—”
“So he’s just wondering why he gave you enough to knock out a horse. You don’t think he’ll mention that to someone else when he’s chatting it up in a bar one night? What if he gets busted? What if he rats out all his customers and suppliers . . . you.”
Ruby blinked. She hadn’t considered that.
&n
bsp; “Dwayne won’t talk.” She curled a hand around the railing. “Look, I didn’t ask for you to come here. And I didn’t ask for your advice.”
He strode across the living room. “Regardless, I’m here. And I’m staying through moonrise to make sure you can handle all this as you claim.” His voice dripped skepticism.
“And if you think I can’t?”
“I’m taking you back to Turkey. To pick up Gunter’s trail.”
She made a sound of disgust. A trail long cold by now. Fire burned in her chest at the thought of leaving home again. Of diving back into the world that had shown her nothing but cruelty and brutality. “I won’t go.”
“Yes,” the word fell hard, clipped. His eyes glinted. “You will.”
“So what are you going to do? Babysit me for the rest of my days? You really want to be stuck together that long?” Her chest heaved, and she regretted the question the instant it dropped from her mouth. She sounded needy, like she was fishing for a commitment from the guy.
A muscle in his jaw flexed wildly. “That would suck, wouldn’t it?”
Her brows pulled together. He emitted bitterness. Anger. Mockery.
He continued. “You insist you can handle this? Then prove it. Then I’ll leave.” He swung around into the kitchen. A plate rattled and she knew he was helping himself to the breakfast she had prepared. She had made it with him in mind… the memory of their night in every whisk, every seasoning sprinkled. Now all that seemed a long time ago. Even their quick coupling in the living room seemed to belong to some other time, some other people.
Prove it.
She would. The sooner she proved it to him, the sooner he would leave her alone. She just had to endure him until moonrise and not make a fool of herself by revealing how much he affected her. To distance herself while living with him beneath her roof. How hard could it be?
Weathering life alone was what she knew. What she did.
Rosemary marched into the living room, a wicker purse with neon pink and yellow flowers swinging from her arm. A Beau Rivage deputy sheriff followed close behind. “Well, Ruby Deveraux, where are the girls?”
“Have a seat.” Ruby gestured to the couch. “Can I get you a drink?”
“This is serious business. You could be in big trouble here,” Rosemary cut in before the deputy could accept Ruby’s offer, which he looked inclined to do. Mouth pursing, he shook his head. Regretfully.
“I’m in trouble?” Ruby lowered into the sofa chair, her favorite. She had sat through many a Top Chef marathon in its cushioned depths, a plate of stuffed jalapeños on her lap. “What have I done?”
“You ran off with the girls—”
“What? They ran off. I went looking for them,” she clarified. “Remember?”
The deputy took out his notepad and began scribbling in it. “That so? Ms. LeMoine here claims you left with them—”
“She knows that’s not true. She’s the one who told me they snuck off to attend some party. I went in search of them.”
“Well, you didn’t expect me to go!” the social worker exclaimed.
The deputy frowned. “So you concur that Ms. Deveraux did not leave the hotel with the girls?”
Rosemary pressed her lips tight, splotches of color breaking out over her pudgy cheeks. Her nostrils flared wide. “Y-yes. I do recall that.”
The man released a heavy sigh, and lifted his gaze from his notepad, settling his eyes on Ruby. “And did you locate the girls?”
She shifted on her feet. “I never found them. But I’m fine though,” Ruby said tightly, flicking an angry glare to both of them. “Thank you for asking.”
“Oh, you always were one to land on your feet.” Rosemary nodded. “I told Deputy McCall all about you.”
Ruby just bet she did. No doubt telling him how her own father didn’t want her when her mother died. Relating the number of times she had had to be placed because no foster family wanted her for very long… simply claiming she was too… strange. More often than not, they just gave her back because she scared them with her “odd ways.”
“I’m sure it was an interesting conversation. Sorry I missed it.”
“Ms. Deveraux, where have you been all this time?”
“I got into a bit of trouble when I went looking for Amy and Emily.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Ruby wet her lips. Fabricating a story that couldn’t be verified with authorities in Istanbul could get tricky.
“She was abducted.”
All eyes swung to gawk at the new arrival. Ruby scowled at Sebastian. He smiled at her in a way that indicated he knew she didn’t want him here. Knew and didn’t care.
“Who are you?” Rosemary demanded.
“You could call me a retrieval expert.”
“Retrieval expert?”
“Yes. Private contractor. I retrieve people who get themselves into trouble.”
Apparently the detective found this plausible. He started scribbling notes. “Who hired you?”
“Friends of the family,” Sebastian lied smoothly.
Rosemary snorted. “Ruby’s family wouldn’t care enough—”
“Apparently they do,” Sebastian cut in, his eyes glinting, daring her to contradict.
With narrowed eyes, Rosemary swung her attention back on Ruby, her curiosity clearly piqued. “What did happen to you over there?”
Ruby read the woman carefully, gauging her suspicion… and buried beneath it all—fear. Not of Ruby. But her fear over having lost two girls who had been in her charge. Her fear of having to account to her supervisor when he returned from dealing with the authorities in Turkey.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m safe now.” Ruby shrugged. “The girls, however…”
She looked at Sebastian.
He arched a brow, a warning glint in his dark eyes.
She wanted to confess, to tell the truth, to give Amy a voice against the injustice of her death. She deserved it. Emily, too. They deserved to be remembered.
Instead, she heard herself saying, “I never found them.”
Because the truth would get her tossed inside a padded room.
Deputy McCall nodded. “Not surprising. The police in Istanbul have no leads.” Her eyes burned. No. They wouldn’t.
He continued, “Probably got in over their heads. It’s a shame but I’ve seen it happen with girls like them all the time.”
Girls like them. Forgotten. Discarded. Unwanted. Girls like Ruby.
The deputy turned to the door. “Thank you for your time. Glad you made it home safely, Ms. Deveraux. At least there’s one happy ending in all this.”
Happy ending. Ruby almost laughed. Or wept. She couldn’t differentiate from the thick emotion rising in her throat.
“That’s it? You’re finished with her?” Rosemary danced around him like an anxious puppy.
“I’ll write a report.”
“That doesn’t help. We still don’t know a thing about Amy and Emily.”
“And why do you suddenly care so much?” Ruby bit out, unable to stop. “You never gave a damn about them before. What’s the matter? You might actually be held accountable for the lives of girls you were charged with? Won’t that be a nice change?”
Rosemary swung around, the full blast of her anger slamming into Ruby. The intensity of it made her take a sudden step back. “Don’t act so self-righteous with me, Ruby! You know what happened over there. I know you do. You could never lie worth a damn.” She wagged a finger. “You had a hand in it, don’t I know it! You’ve been nothing but trouble and grief to everyone you’ve ever met. I was a damn fool to let you go on that trip with us—”
“Enough,” Ruby announced, her voice ringing with more strength than she had ever used before. Maybe it was this new self, the beast in her, but she didn’t feel like putting up with Rosemary. Not anymore. Not in her own home. Not with Sebastian watching. Listening. “Get out of my house.”
“No wonder your kin washed their hands of you and w
ouldn’t take you in after your momma died.” Rosemary flounced out the door, quivering with a hatred for Ruby that felt like noxious gas on the air.
Slapping his hat back on his head, the deputy departed with a tight, apologetic smile. She listened to their steps on the porch for some moments before flicking an embarrassed glance to Sebastian. She didn’t want him to know that she had been rejected by her family, dumped into foster care because they couldn’t cope with her. That no one wanted her. Not her father. Not her grandmother. Not her two aunts or the myriad of cousins enough to populate various parishes of Louisiana. None would claim her. Her mother’s oddball daughter. An anomaly. Something to be reviled. Abandoned to the care of the state.
All she had ever had was this house, waiting for her when she turned eighteen. And she wasn’t leaving it. No way in hell was she headed back to Turkey. No matter what he said.
Rubbing her arms, she headed past Sebastian for the kitchen, forcing her mind to other matters. Like making a living. Lord knew no one else was going to take care of her. “I have cinnamon rolls to bake.”
This morning, she had notified the Morning Star Café that she was taking orders again. They had put in their usual request for fresh bread. And Ernie’s diner wanted their pies and cakes, too.
“Ruby—”
“I have to get back to making a living,” she said, stopping him before he offered up any kind words. Sympathy from him would only make her feel worse—a freak in need of pity. She couldn’t bear that. Not from him.
He grasped her by both arms and forced her around to face him. “Stop pretending you’re so tough.”
“What do you want?” She lifted her chin. “Tears? I’m okay. I’ve dealt with a lot of shit in my life. What she said doesn’t even register on my Richter scale.”
With a small shake of his head, he dropped his hands. “Okay. I guess you’re not pretending, then.”
“I’m not. Now unless you want to roll dough for me, step aside. I have a lot to do.” Turning, she stepped inside the familiar kitchen where she had baked countless pies and bread. King cakes for Mardi Gras. Hundreds of casseroles for the area nursing home and rotary club. The familiarity warmed the chilled corner of her heart. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell her mother’s spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove, hear her humming as she crushed garlic and fresh basil together in her pestle.
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