Wanted: Wild Thing (Midnight Liaisons)

by Jessica Sims

  “Understood,” Hugh said in a low, growly voice, and my eyes widened again.

  As he’d spoken, I’d caught a glimpse of two long, pointy teeth. Hugh had . . . fangs.

  Oh, God, this wasn’t good at all.

  Chapter Three

  I’m not sure this is a smart idea,” I began, unable to stop staring at Hugh’s mouth. Had I really just seen fangs?

  “Silly me, I forgot to give you a vote.” Finian got to his feet, straightened his jacket, and smoothed his lapels, as if going out for a stroll. “I’ll be by to check in every now and then. Not too often, you see, lest others start to suspect something. Wouldn’t want my prize snatched up before I get my money’s worth out of her, now, would we?”

  “Heaven forbid,” I murmured, my mind whirling. I was surprisingly calm after being told that I was someone’s breeding animal and he was coming to take over my life. I guess I’d always been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now that I finally had answers, the fear of the unknown was gone. There were a million things to consider, and I had to think about a way free of this, but I wasn’t panicking.

  Maybe once Finian was gone, I could reason with Hugh. Pay him off. Something. Then I could . . . what? Escape? How? I’d turn into a monster permanently in a month unless I found my Prince Charming.

  And unfortunately, the prince who knew the most about me intended to breed me like a prize show dog.

  It was not looking good for the home team.

  I got to my feet, and Hugh did as well. I pretended not to notice and headed for the door. From the way Finian was glancing at his Rolex, it was clear that he was done with me. “When will you be back?” I asked, opening the door.

  He reached out and patted my cheek, and I felt that ugly ripple under my skin once more, no doubt to remind me exactly what I was. “I’ll be back when I feel like it, precious. Don’t worry. Hugh will be standing by to ensure your safety.”

  Finian turned and strolled back through the office, giving Savannah a polite smile as he headed to the door.

  I wanted to scream for him to stay longer and answer more questions, but the fae did what they wanted, when they wanted. Finian had dropped his bomb, and now he was leaving.

  As the door shut, I gave an unhappy sigh and turned around.

  And nearly walked into Hugh’s chest.

  I staggered backward. “Oh, excuse me.”

  He reached for my arm to steady me, then hesitated, dropping his hand as if he remembered what I was.

  “I’ll get out of your way so you can go,” I said, gesturing at the front door.

  “I’m not leaving. You know this.” His voice was cool and brutal with efficiency.

  How embarrassing. I gave him a sunny smile to mask my reaction and headed back to my desk.

  “Everything okay?” Savannah asked in a mild voice.

  “Just fine,” I said as I sat down, my smile starting to feel pinned to my mouth. “I forgot that I was going to fix up a profile for Mr. Hugh here. Isn’t that right?”

  “No,” he said bluntly. But he moved to sit across from me in one of the chairs.

  My eyes narrowed. Didn’t he realize that to keep my secret, we were going to have to spread a little white lie or two? “If you want to remain here at the agency with me,” I said in a low, pleasant voice, “you’ll have to have a profile set up.”

  “Do what you like,” he said, rising from the chair and frowning at it. It was too small for him, the wooden arms making it impossible for him to sit comfortably. It would have been funny except for the fact that he looked as if he’d rather destroy the chair than tolerate its presence a moment longer. He turned and affected a very soldierly stance, feet spread, arms crossed over his chest.

  I noticed with shock that his fingers were tipped with massive claws. Where the heck was this guy from? Were they in the Dark Ages in the fae realm? If so, they were feeding them Wheaties, because Hugh was so immensely broad and muscular that he looked as if he could crush a small car with his hands.

  Savannah didn’t seem alarmed, though—just confused. She eyed him, and then me.

  It was clear that if I was going to get anywhere with Hugh, I’d have to try charm. That was fine. I was good at charming people. “Hugh, sweetie, why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee?”

  He glanced around the room, then at me. “I prefer to stand.”

  “Yes, well, that’s impolite. You’re making me nervous,” I said with a wink at Savannah, as if to say, Oh, these crazy customers. “If the chair’s uncomfortable, I’ll get you a stool from the back room.”

  I headed back into the storage room, where we had a stair step stool that doubled as a ladder. I didn’t move more than a few steps before I realized that Hugh was still following me, though. I sighed and gritted my teeth. Was this what I had to look forward to for the next month?

  I was an optimist, though; I’d just have to figure out a way to get Hugh off my tail, or make the best of him being here.

  I snagged the stool and turned around, doing my best to keep the pleasant expression on my face. “Since you followed me, why don’t you carry this?” I shoved it in his hands.

  He stared down at the wooden stepladder. “What is this for?”

  “It’s for you to sit on, since the chairs are uncomfortable.”

  He snorted. “I do not need this. I will stand.”

  “I prefer for you to sit.”

  “A soldier does not sit on the job.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not a soldier right now,” I snapped, then inwardly berated myself for losing my temper. I needed to be nice. The Ryder everyone knew was sweet and pleasant. I smiled. “Humor me, okay?”

  I swept past him without waiting for an answer.

  In the main office, I could tell from Savannah’s curious look that my hulking “shadow” was right behind me. I pushed aside the two chairs and indicated that he should put the stool down. He did so, but he didn’t sit.

  All right, it was a start—if a crappy one. Irritated, I headed to the coffeepot. I scooped grounds and poured water, then clicked the On button. “You want coffee, Savannah?”

  No answer.

  I glanced over just in time to see her face pale. She pressed a hand to her mouth and bolted for the bathroom again. “I’m going to guess that’s a no,” I said and turned to Hugh. “Do you like coffee?”

  He simply watched me with those cat-eyes. “What I like does not matter.”

  “Oookay, then.” It was getting harder to keep the smile on my face. “Well, I like coffee.” I sat back down at my desk and tried to concentrate. If Hugh was going to lurk around me constantly, I needed a cover story. I cast about for an idea . . .

  Maybe I could tell everyone that Hugh was a shifter. That would work, since he had fangs and, um, stripes. So maybe he was some exotic-tiger shifter who was awkward around humans and needed to be taken under my wing. Except . . . 99.9 percent of the world was human, so he had to have run into people before now.

  Hmmm . . . Maybe he had trouble dating, and I was acting as his life coach?

  I picked up my glittery ruler and began to tap it against my palm. There had to be a good cover story somewhere. I couldn’t tell anyone, Oh, yes, I’m apparently a prize poodle, and when I hit my prime I’ll be worth a fortune, so he’s guarding me.

  Because I didn’t intend to be anyone’s poodle. I was going to figure a way out of this. I was going to find my True Love, and he was going to save me from my curse, and there would be a Happily Ever After.

  The coffeepot hissed steam, a signal that it was about to brew. Before I could blink an eye, Hugh lashed out at the machine.

  Claws flashed and I heard a growl, then there was a gigantic spark and a shatter of glass.

  The lights flickered.

  Everything went silent.

  I
stood up, staring at the remains of the coffeepot, which had been neatly sliced in half by Hugh’s claws. He was standing over the broken pieces, big shoulders heaving, fangs bared, looking as if he was about to attack.

  As I watched, another spark flew from the coffeepot, and Hugh raised an enormous, clawed hand.

  “Wait,” I yelped, charging forward. “Don’t touch anything else. You’ll get electrocuted. Just stay right there.” I raced for the back room, flipping the circuit breakers to turn off the power in the office. Once that was done, I sprinted back into the main room . . .

  And stopped. Hugh’s eyes were glowing an eerily bright green, brighter than anything I’d ever seen. Creepy. I had to ignore that, though. I pushed past him and yanked the plug from the now very dead coffeepot, then returned to the back room and flipped the breakers on again, hoping that we hadn’t scared the life out of Savannah.

  I returned to the office as she emerged from the bathroom, a paper towel pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm. “Everything okay?”

  “Just fine,” I assured her. “Hugh here has an itchy trigger finger, and the coffeepot startled him.” I went to a closet for the broom and dustpan, then held them out to Hugh. “And now that he broke it, he’s going to clean it up.”

  Hugh bared his teeth at me in a snarl. Dear God, they were big; his canines practically looked like tusks.

  I refused to be intimidated, though. He wasn’t going to hurt me; he had to protect me. According to his boss, I was worth more alive than dead, so I gave him a sweet smile and pushed the broom and dustpan into his hands.

  As he glared at me, I patted his arm. “Now, please clean up your mess while I see to Savannah.” I stepped past him and turned to Savannah. “You okay, sweetie?”

  She blinked slowly, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom. Her gaze went to Hugh, then me. “What happened?”

  “Just an accident,” I said in a sunny voice. I moved to Savannah’s desk chair and pulled it out for her. “Come sit down. You don’t look so good.”

  She dropped heavily into her chair, pulled out a bottle of water, and sipped delicately.

  “You need some crackers or toast or something?”

  “I had that earlier,” she said in a whisper-soft voice and took another sip of water. “It didn’t help.”

  I brushed her sweaty brown hair off her forehead. “How about some nice hot tea?”

  “That might help. Maybe with some lemon. Except . . . our coffeepot is dead.” She looked over my shoulder, her brows drawing together.

  I glanced over, too, and saw Hugh standing there, still holding the broom and dustpan and giving them a ferocious frown, the mess of the broken coffeepot still at his feet.

  His bare feet, I just now noticed. They were clawed, as well. Oh, dear.

  Savannah looked over at me, then picked up a pencil and a notepad. She wrote something down, then nudged the pad toward me.

  What is he?

  Savannah was a were-cougar and a member of the Russell family, who spearheaded the Alliance. She was familiar with weres of all kinds—even the more unusual supernaturals, like harpies and satyrs and sirens. There was no doubt that Hugh was supernatural—anyone could tell that with one look at him—but the question was . . . what?

  I didn’t know either, but I intended to get some answers.

  Deliberately misunderstanding her question, I quickly wrote down Customer? “Well, since our coffeepot is dead, I’ll head to the coffee shop for your tea. Hugh, why don’t you come with me? You can finish cleaning that up once we get back.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to go,” Savannah protested. It was clear from her alarmed look that she didn’t want me going out with Hugh alone. “I’m fine.” She gave a hard little swallow midsentence, but she kept her brave face.

  “Nonsense,” I told her. “We’ll be back shortly. Leave that mess for us, and if you need to go be sick, just put on the answering machine.” I bounded over to my desk to get my Hello Kitty purse. “Come on, Hugh.”

  I held the door open, staring pointedly at his scowling face. After a moment, he headed out.

  One hurdle down. I followed, telling Hugh, “That’s my car.” I pointed at the baby blue hatchback that I’d put kitty ears and whiskers on, and gestured for him to take the passenger side.

  He simply stared at me, then at the car. Then back at me.

  Sure, everyone mocked the cat-mobile, but it made me smile to see it, so I didn’t care. “Just get in, already.” I pulled open my door and slid into the driver’s seat.

  It was only after I got into the car that Hugh opened his door very slowly and examined it, then folded his immense body into the passenger seat. His knees pressed hard against the dashboard, and his shoulders hunched as he tried to squeeze himself in, the door hanging open on his side. He looked so comical that I giggled despite myself.

  “I do not fit,” he said sourly, shifting in his seat.

  “Just extend the seat backward,” I told him. “You’ll have room.”

  He gave me an uncomprehending look.

  I reached between his legs to grab the seat release, and Hugh jerked in response, his hand gripping my arm.

  Immediately, that hot, snakey coil of excitement thrummed through my body, and I felt my monster jerk awake. I sucked in a breath and shook his hand off, recoiling backward. “Don’t touch me,” I whispered.

  He looked just as scandalized as I was, his hand clenching into a fist. “I . . . apologize. I thought . . .”

  I could guess what he thought I was reaching for. “It’s okay,” I said, flicking my hand rapidly to try and shake myself back to normal. “Just . . . get the seat release yourself.”

  The look on his too-savage face was puzzled.

  “And you can shut your door, too,” I pointed out helpfully. “And put on your seat belt.”

  Hugh’s cat-eyes narrowed at me. “I do not know these things you speak of.”

  It was my turn to frown as I shoved the keys into the ignition. The car chimed helpfully, reminding me that the door was open and not all passengers were buckled in.

  Hugh startled again, eyes going wide as he tried to decipher the sounds.

  Okay, this . . . was odd. “Haven’t you ever been in a car before?”

  He shook his head slowly, then leaned forward, as if puzzled by the sound of the chiming. Then he leaned back and grunted, shifting in his seat, knees still pressed to the dashboard, big body squeezed like an accordion.

  “They must not have cars in the fae realm,” I grumbled. Well, that would explain Hugh’s odd choice of clothing, I supposed. Maybe they were all medieval there or something. I glanced back into the office and saw Savannah watching us through the windows. “Okay. We need to get going. For starters, pull the lever under your seat to release it. That will move it backward and give you more room.”

  He did so, and when the seat slid backward a foot, he immediately looked relieved. His knees were still pressed to the dash, but he no longer looked as if he was in pain.

  “Now shut the door,” I instructed him, then proceeded to show him the seat belts. Then, once everything was buckled and inside the car, I turned it on.

  Eyes going wild, he immediately clenched the dashboard, and a low growl began in his throat.

  “It’s fine,” I reassured him. “It’s mechanical. We turn it on and it goes.” And to show him, I reversed out of the parking space and pulled forward through the parking lot. “You okay?”

  “I am well,” he gritted between his teeth.

  “All righty. Heads up, then, because we’re going to go faster. Don’t jump out or anything. You could seriously hurt yourself.”

  He gave me a scathing look that seemed to indicate he knew better than that, so I turned onto the road and began to head for the nearest drive-thru coffee shop. My awkward, enormous passenger seemed
to be handling things okay. Hissing and growling, but okay.

  Why had Finian thought this man could protect me? He was out of his element in a major way. “So, where you’re from . . . they don’t have cars?”

  “No,” he said flatly.

  “Ah. Horses? Do you ride everywhere?”

  “We walk or run. We do not require assistance.” He practically spat the word. “We are not weak like humans.”

  Well, this was a fun conversation. “Which brings me to another point,” I said, determined not to lose my temper at his sour attitude. “What are you, exactly?”

  “The fae call my kind ‘long-tooth.’ ”

  I had no idea what that was. “Is that fae for ‘big wild man’? I meant, what is your animal? Some sort of cat? It’s clear you’re a shifter.”

  “I am a primordial,” he told me bluntly, then leaned forward to peer out the windshield as we pulled into the all-night coffee shop that I liked to frequent.

  “I don’t know what a primordial is,” I told him. “Some kind of cat?”

  “Long-tooth,” he repeated, as if that explained everything.

  Okay, we were getting nowhere with this. I pulled into the drive-thru line. “I’m about to order. You want something to eat?”

  “I should like a meal,” he admitted, his tone grudging, as if he hated to ask.

  “This is good. This is a start,” I told him encouragingly. “What’s your favorite meal? Maybe we can order something similar.”

  “Haunch of unicorn.”

  I stared at him. Just stared. Was he . . . messing with me? But his face was deadly earnest. “Um, I don’t think they have that here. Just sandwiches and cookies and coffee stuff. How about I order you something?”

  He shrugged.

  I clicked the button to roll down my window and heard Hugh’s sharp inhalation of surprise. A second later I heard his claws scrape against the door, and he began to play with the window on his side. I ignored it and placed my order. “Large hot lemon tea, heavy on the lemon, a large triple espresso, heavy on the espresso, and a large soda. And a dry bagel,” I added, thinking of poor Savannah. I looked over at my companion, then added to the drive-thru window, “And I need some sandwiches. How many do you have?”