“Yeah. Turned down a job with Lycan Link Intelligence.”
“He headed south instead. Probably to meet your mother.”
Damien nodded.
“The rest seems to be speculation on Reno’s part.”
“Dante told me today that her name was Carlotta.” There was a break in his voice and she rubbed his shoulder.
“You were named after her. That’s a special connection to have.”
“Yeah.” A sigh escaped him, one so deep and heavy it seemed to come from the very depths of his being. He leaned against her. “Hold me, Sam, please. Just hold me.”
Chapter 30
Gwyn was making her usual toast and tea when Dante appeared in the kitchen. His hair was damp from the shower, his chest bare. She recalled his shirt had been ruined yesterday and made a mental note to lend him one of Matt’s. Her gaze drifted over his toned body. They were about the same build.
“Good morning.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “No coffee?”
“I drink tea in the morning.”
“I’m adaptable as long as it’s not the lawn clipping stuff you gave me yesterday.” He snagged a cup and poured some from the teapot.
“It’s Earl Grey.”
He took a sip and nodded in approval. “Normal. Good.”
“I’m glad my tea, in my kitchen meets with your approval.”
“I know you are.” He began opening the cupboards, found a jar of peanut butter, set it on the counter and took one of the slices of toast that had just popped from the toaster.
“That was mine.” She watched dourly as he spread peanut butter on it.
“I’ll share.” He cut it in half and handed her a piece, smiling.
“You are as ballsy as a bull, aren’t you?”
“Is that based on last night’s assessment?”
She rolled her eyes and sat down at the table to look at the paper. He took a seat opposite her.
“If you do the crossword, I can be of help. I’m quite good at them.”
“I don’t do the crossword.” She took a sip of her tea and tried to concentrate on the headlines.
“Maybe you should try. It’s a good way to stimulate the brain first thing in the morning.”
“No, thank you.”
“Too bad. What about the Sudoku puzzle?”
She set her cup of tea down with a decided click and folded the newspaper. “You chatter like a magpie in the morning, don’t you?”
“You’re not a morning person. I can work with that.” He grinned. “I’m in a good mood. I woke up in bed with a beautiful woman. The sun is shining and the day is full of possibilities. What shall we do?”
“I need to check on the club and make sure no one trashed the place last night in my absence.”
“I’m sure that didn’t happen.”
“I still have work to do. I have a great staff but I always check they cleaned up properly and that the bar is stocked. There’s last night’s receipts to go over, and I have to prepare the bank deposit. Oh, and make sure there’s toilet paper in the bathrooms. Real exciting stuff.” She made a face.
“I’ll help. I have some time this morning.”
“Suit yourself.” She stood up. “You can start by cleaning up in here while I get dressed.”
“No problem.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling.
Yep, he was a damned morning person.
As she dressed, the sound of him singing in the kitchen drifted into her room. It was an old song from the ’40s and she found herself humming along to it, a smile forming on her lips. It was nice to have someone else moving about the apartment. Matt had usually left after a quick breakfast and she’d be alone for most of the day, only Sherman for company.
She looked about for the cat but he wasn’t in his usual spot. Most likely he was with Dante. The animal had fallen under the man’s spell, just as she had.
The thought had her stopping in the middle of combing her hair. Had she fallen under Dante’s spell? Not a magical one but the emotional kind? There was a sudden ache in her chest and she pressed her hand to it. No, she couldn’t be falling for Dante, it wasn’t possible…was it?
An hour later they were working companionably in the club. Dante had finished making sure the shelves were properly stocked with glasses and was now straightening chairs while Gwyneth finished going over the liquor inventory.
“What do you do next?” He looked over to where she was working.
“Hmm?” She didn’t turn his way, her eyes fixed on the bottles she was counting. “Oh, I’ll do a cleansing.”
He glanced about. “The place looks pretty clean to me.”
“Not cleaning. Cleansing. I sense there’s a lot of emotional residue in the room.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” she set down the list she’d been holding and wandered over to where he was standing. “There was an argument in this general area, quite a heated one.”
There was no sign of broken glass or damaged furniture. “I don’t see any signs of one.”
“I do. It’s like an aura. If I half-close my eyes it’s as if ghosts from the previous night pass before me but instead of bodies I see emotions, similar to clouds of colour.”
“And you need to get rid of them.”
She nodded. “If they are too strong, left-over emotions from a previous evening can affect the new patrons who happen to walk through them.”
“Interesting. Beyond an argument, what else do you sense?”
“By the door there’s sadness. Someone was having a bad night. I sense jealousy in the far corner. And near the bar…” She narrowed her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Passion. Lust. Someone was very, very aroused.”
“Really?” He walked over to the area she indicated. “And you say these lingering emotions can affect those who pass through them?”
“Uh-huh.”
He grinned. “Then come here.”
“Dante!”
He reached out and pulled her close. “I want to test this cloud.”
She laughed. “I don’t—”
Whatever she’d been going to say was cut off as he kissed her. Last night had been about comfort and support but now, now he wanted something more. He kissed her deeply, letting her know what he wanted and she responded in kind, her kiss fierce, hungry. He gave as good as he got, tongues tangling, hands roaming.
She tugged impatiently at the buttons on his shirt, making a pleased sound when she finally encountered his bare flesh. Her hand slid lower and then she was trying to work her fingers below his belt.
He gripped her shoulders and pushed her back. His breathing rough as he spoke. “I think we can say this cloud works.”
“It does.” She nipped his lower lip while her hand caressed him.
He groaned at the sensations she was creating. “Here? In the bar?”
She shrugged. “No one is here and I haven’t had sex on this bar before.”
“A first then?”
“There are a few left. Not many, but a few.” She stared directly into his eyes, a challenge evident as if daring him to criticize.
Instead, he laughed. “Then I’m delighted to be the one to initiate you.” He picked her up and deposited her on the bar. The surface was old and scarred but the polish gleamed none the less, the marks merely adding another dimension to the grain of the wood.
Rather than waiting for him, she shrugged off her blouse and then pulled off her tank. She wore no bra and for a moment he stared at her bared breasts. The skin was smooth, faint blue lines showing beneath her pale white skin. A true redhead’s colouring, he mused. As he studied the full globes, her nipples responded and he reached out, brushing his knuckles over the stiff peaks.
“Happy to see me,” he quipped.
“The same goes for you.” She toed off a shoe and rubbed her foot over the straining zipper of his jeans.
He allowed his eyelids to droop, a rumble of pleasure lacing his voice. �
�It would seem we’re a pair.”
“Yes, it would.” She urged him closer until her legs straddled his waist and then took his hand, placing it on her breast. “Pleasure me.”
The demand in her voice caused him to pause. “Bossy.”
“I know what I want and I don’t like waiting.”
“Be careful, Gwyneth. I might take that as a challenge.”
“Take it any way you want as long as you fuck me soon.”
He didn’t respond immediately. He hadn’t managed to stay alive this long without knowing when to wait, to read an opponent carefully before acting. And Gwyneth was an opponent. They were in an unspoken battle and it was one he fully intended winning. Time to start drawing a line in the sand.
He took half a step back. “I don’t fuck.”
“What?” Her eyes showed her confusion.
“I have sex, make love, go to bed…” He gently tucked an errant strand behind her ear.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug.” I have my standards. Fucking is crude; an act that means nothing. Porn stars, hookers and horny teenagers fuck.”
“And so do unfeeling bastards.”
“Are you implying that’s what I am?”
She leaned back on her arms and considered him. “Right now, I’m not sure.”
“When you make up your mind, we’ll continue…or not.” He began to button his shirt.
“That’s it? You’re stopping simply because I used a word you don’t like?” Gwyneth sat up straight.
“Got it in one.” He brushed his thumb over her swollen lips and then walked away ignoring the ache of his body. Giving in to her now would garner him nothing but momentary physical relief. His goal was bigger than that. He had realised at some point during the dark hours of the night that he wanted a relationship with her beyond casual sex. If he gave in now, he’d be condemning himself to mere physical gratification.
There was a rustling behind him.
“Wait.”
He turned to see she had slid off the bar and was donning her shirt. “This is the second time you’ve done this.”
“Done what?”
“Walked away from me in this bar.”
For a moment he frowned before understanding dawned. It seemed so long ago, that initial visit to Mystique. “Leaving the bar because of inferior cognac hardly counts as walking away from you. And you did refuse to share your private stock with me. What other option was left?”
“Like I said at the time, my private stock is for friends.”
“I think we’re at least that.” He flicked a glance at her open top. Hints of her bare breasts could be seen, pale, soft and warm. Slowly, he clenched his fingers into fists to resist the urge to reach out and touch.
She cocked her head. “Are you asking for a drink?”
“It might help take my mind off….things.” He lowered his gaze to her breasts again.
“One drink. I could use one anyway.” She turned and walked towards the back. “You know, your hands could have been on those…things…if you weren’t so worried about semantics.”
“And you wouldn’t be needing a drink if you didn’t talk trash.”
“Saying ‘fuck me’ isn’t talking trash.”
He raised his brows. “Then what is it?”
“Making my needs known. I’m not some shrinking violet.”
“Only in the emotional sense.”
She glared at him but he didn’t care. There was a time to wait and a time to push and his gut was telling him now was the time to start pushing.
Reno parked his rental in front of the Chicago pack house and turned off the engine. He’d dropped Brandi off at the Universal Coven. She was meeting with the Magissa to go over recent events. His offer to stay and help had been dismissed.
“I’m a big girl, Reno.” Brandi had given him a quick kiss. “I’ll be fine.”
“After what happened yesterday—”
“It wasn’t Camille’s fault.”
He knew she was correct but it hadn’t made driving away any easier. At least talking to Damien about Dante would take his mind off things. The conversation they were about to have would be like walking through a minefield. Taking a deep breath, he exited the car.
It didn’t take long for Sam to answer the doorbell.
“Hey Reno!” She ushered him in and led him to the kitchen. “Damien and I were just talking about you.”
“All good, I hope.”
“Er…”
He frowned. “What’s up?”
“Damien’s pissed that we suspected Dante was his father and didn’t tell him. I tried to explain but he’s in a mood.”
“I’m not in a mood,” Damien called out.
“Yes, you are.” Sam said as they entered the kitchen. “Probably because you’re hung over.”
“And I’m not hung over.”
She snorted.
“What happened to the sympathy you were giving me last night?”
“Last night you weren’t being a stubborn, argumentative pain in the ass.”
“I can come back,” Reno suggested.
Damien scowled at him. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to sit the hell down and answer some questions.”
Reno stilled, a beat passing before he replied. “I’ll take recent circumstances into consideration and not grab you by the scruff of the neck and shake you as if you were still the belligerent pup I met at the Academy.”
Damien pressed his lips together and looked away, eventually muttering a sullen apology. “Sorry.”
Reno nodded and sat down. Sam, her back to Damien, mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ before she began to play hostess.
“Coffee, Reno?” She reached for Damien’s mug. “I’m getting more for Damien so it’s not a problem.”
“Thanks.” Reno smiled. “I can never have enough coffee.”
Damien sighed. “I don’t need more coffee.”
“If your mouth is full of coffee, there’s less chance you’ll say something stupid and offend one of your oldest friends.” Sam took another mug from the cupboard.
“I won’t be able to offend him because I’ll be in the bathroom peeing my brains out.” Damien shifted in his chair and Reno burst out laughing.
Sam began to laugh as well and the tension in the room eased.
“So,” Reno leaned back in his chair. “What questions do you have about Dante? Most of what I know was on the thumb-drive I gave you.”
Damien rubbed his hands over his face and then dragged his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I know. It’s more than my brain can process. Did you know the man tried to blackmail me last time he was in Chicago?”
“No, I didn’t.” Reno nodded his thanks as Sam set a steaming cup in front of him.
“And he had some two-bit thug whack me on the head with a two-by-four and handcuff me.”
“I still think it was a kinky game,” Sam quipped from where she was leaning against the counter drinking a glass of milk.
Damien gave her a filthy look before continuing. “What kind of father does that?”
Reno shrugged having no answer.
“He’s spent his life trying to hunt down the witch who killed your mother,” Sam pointed out.
“Or so he says,” Damien countered.
She ignored him and continued. “You were never really in danger.”
Damien drank some of his coffee. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
“I’m not saying he’s a saint.” Sam set down the now empty glass of milk. “But he saved me and the baby from harm. And his voice when he spoke about you…there was something in it that made me believe he does care about you.”
Damien looked away.
Sam pushed off from the counter. “I have work to do. You talk to him, Reno.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing.” Reno watched as Sam left the room. “I was on the phone with Fielding this morning, bringing him up to speed and he let
something slip.”
“Slip?” Damien snorted. “That man doesn’t let anything slip.”
“Right.” Reno took a swig of his coffee. “He said Dante’s the reason you were pardoned when you went rogue.”
“What? No. I don’t believe it.” Damien gave his head a shake. “That was you.”
Reno shrugged. “I went to bat for you, but it wasn’t looking good. Then suddenly your record was clear.”
“Fielding must be getting senile. How would Dante be able to get me a pardon?”
“No idea.” Reno drank some more coffee. “I also had a call from Higgins.”
“Higgins? I’ve never known him to directly call anyone. He doesn’t rub elbows with lowly Enforcers.”
“Oh, he’d like to think we’re on the same page with regards to Dante.”
Damien cocked his head. “I don’t follow.”
“Remember how I was supposed to babysit Dante? Watch from afar but do nothing? Well, Higgins’ plan was that once Dante took out the malefic witch I was supposed to bring Dante in.”
“Why now? I’m sure it’s not the first time Dante’s crossed the line.”
“Higgins is worried the witch community will take offence to a Lycan interfering and it might harm the Alliance. Higgins wanted the malefic witch gone. He’d been hiding the problem for years, but rumours were spreading.
Damien snorted. “Our beloved director has always been about public image.”
“He hired Dante to do the job and now wants Dante to take the fall for it.” Reno shook his head. “I’m not going to do it. I’m not bringing Dante in.”
“Disobeying an order from the Director?”
“Yep.” Reno leaned forward, linking his hands on top of the table. “That Cyrus guy needed to be taken out. Dante’s action fell under the ‘for the good of all’ rule. Plus, he was hired by Lycan Link to do it.”
“Higgins will be pissed off.”
“Won’t be the first time.” Reno shrugged. “But here’s the thing. Once Higgins finds out, he’ll likely contact you since Dante is in your territory. If he does, what will you do?
Deceit can be Deadly (Law of the Lycans Book 8) Page 30
