by Leia Shaw
Though it took a lot of effort, she managed a small nod. When he turned away, she inhaled a deep breath, unpeeled her limp body from the wall, and muttered, “You could have just asked me to stay in the room.”
“Somehow I don’t think it would have had the same effect,” he answered over his shoulder as he opened the door. He paused in the doorway, his smoldering gaze still turning her insides to mush.
She wanted either to push him out the door and slam it shut, or yank him back in and tackle him on the bed. She settled on staring dumbly instead. That’s me, she sighed to herself,always the go-getter.
“Lock the door behind me,” he said. “And don’t open it for anyone, understand?”
“Why do you always ask me if I understand after you give me orders? You do realize I’m not five years old, don’t you?”
“Since you don’t follow my orders anyway, does it matter?”
“No. So maybe you should stop barking them.”
“Barking? Is that what I’m doing?” A smile played at the edge of his lips.
Not able to withstand his presence any longer she tried to shove him out the door. It was like trying to move a brick wall. “Yes. Barking. Just like a little poodle. Now go!”
His chuckles lingered as his body glided down the hallway like a jungle cat on a leisurely stroll. Pushing the hair from her face she exhaled a deep breath then shut and locked the door. She picked up the bag to start packing when a firm knock made her jump. Without thinking, she opened the door.
Marcelo stood in the hallway, his brows raised in disapproval. “I told you not to open the door.”
“I knew it was you, moron.” Not exactly true but he didn’t need to know that.
“Liar.”
“Suck it!” She tried to slam the door but he caught it with his hand.
In less than a second he had her back to the wall, his hands up against it on either side of her head. “Is that an invitation?” he purred.
Yes. No! Maybe? Having a hard time finding her voice, she cleared her throat. “No,” she answered softly.
He stared down at her for too long. Lightening danced in his eyes. Her gaze dropped to his lips. At the memory of his spicy richness her tongue darted out wetting her own lips. She stopped when he leaned in so close his nose brushed a piece of her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed, her knees wobbled. He inhaled deeply and moaned.
Next to her ear his breath whispered against her. “Lock the door.”
Her eyes flew open and he was gone. Finally she collapsed onto the floor. What the hell was that? And even more important, why the hell did she like it?
Chapter 8
“You are doing wonderfully, Aila,” Marcelo whispered in her ear as they waited in line at the car rental office.
Xanax and several cocktails had made the plane ride to Denver bearable for Aila. Arriving with a slight buzz had been enough to get her through the airport, but when they’d reached the office, the effects had started to waver.
But Marcelo had dragged her in anyway. His arm wrapped around her waist held her up when her knees would have buckled beneath her. She had started to hyperventilate outside the office door, but he had coaxed her down with an almost hypnotic voice. When that hadn’t worked, he made awful jokes that either had her erupting in giggles or rolling her eyes.
“We’re nearly done.” His sweet breath against her ear almost had her melting into a puddle on the floor.
Even when he wasn’t actively flirting, Marcelo oozed sexuality. He probably couldn’t help it even if he wanted to. That was going to be a problem. Aila may have changed names – and species – but she wasn’t ready to give up on her relationship with Jimmy. A strange thought clouded her mind. Was it really Jimmy she was attached to? Or just routine? Normalcy.
As she pondered the words, she caught her own lie. There hadn’t been anything normal about her life before this. There definitely wasn’t anything normal about it now. She went from hiding from the world with alcohol and pills to hiding from the world with alcohol, pills, and pointy ears and fangs. She never expected to be living the American Dream, but now she could officially kiss it goodbye.
After settling into their rented Mustang, Marcelo drove them far above the speed limit through the Colorado roads. Aila had never been this far west. The mountains loomed ahead as the scenery changed from city to desolate winding roads amidst deep forests. To her surprise, the farther they got from civilization, the more relaxed she felt. Strange, she’d always been a city girl. But when she stared into the overgrown trees surrounding them, she couldn’t stop a sweet sort of warmth growing in her chest. She felt…at peace.
“Tell me about yourself,” Marcelo said, interrupting her thoughts of the forest.
She smiled shyly. “Umm…what do you want to know?”
He shrugged. “Anything you want to tell me.” When she furrowed her brow and bit down on her bottom lip, he prompted her. “Didn’t you say you liked movies?”
She nodded.
“What are your favorites?”
She arched a brow. “Truly? You want to hear me talk about movies?”
When he shrugged again, she eagerly launched into a list of her ultimate favorites in each genre. Most of them he’d never heard of, none of them he’d seen. So when he suggested she recount one of her favorites, she was in heaven.
An hour later, when she’d summarized the entire plot of P.S. I Love You, misting up at several parts, he had used his fingertip to wipe under her eye where one tear began to fall. Maybe she was extra emotional due to her own dynamite storytelling, but it was the sweetest gesture she could remember in a long time.
“Aila,” he said, after she’d laughed at her stupid femininity. “Will you tell me about your childhood? About foster care?”
She wasn’t a reluctant storyteller in that regard. Growing up in foster care was cut and dry. Repeating the facts as she’d done so many times to countless boyfriends and counselors was easy. So that was exactly how she started. She told him about the eight foster homes she’d lived in. What her life was like moving from one home to the next, no permanency, no consistency, no one really committed to her. But soon she strayed from her usual dry tale. For reasons she didn’t understand, she spoke to him from the heart, revealing things she never had to anyone else.
The last foster home she’d lived in eased her through the teenage years. She’d wanted them to adopt her. She had put all her faith in them. How could they not, after having taken care of her for four years? She had craved their affection, their devotion, their love. But they hadn’t wanted the lifelong responsibility of another child – they had four grown children already. The rejection stung terribly.
“I can still remember the day the social worker sat me down just before my eighteenth birthday,” she said to Marcelo. “She read me some options for leaving the foster care system then expected me to decide right then and there what my future would be. Like I was picking out a new hairstyle. Ultimately, I decided to take the help the state offered. They’re paying for me to get my business degree. But I learned a bitter lesson about life that day. People never stay.” She shrugged though her hands shook. “And I’ll never have a family.”
After the meeting with the social worker, Aila had cried herself to sleep in the bedroom next to the very people who had hurt her. A few months later she’d packed her things and said goodbye. They had been sweet to her and promised to call frequently but it hadn’t dulled the ache in her heart. And in the three years since she’d been on her own, they’d never called.
“I don’t know why,” she said. “I would have made an okay daughter. I didn’t disobey them, I followed all the rules, I was respectful. I used to wish someone wanted me. Prayed for it every night.” She stared down at her hands, absorbing his patient silence. “Then I grew up.”
She was so embarrassed about her pitiful confession she couldn’t manage to look at him. He had been so quiet through it all, she’d probably bored him. Stupid! When are you go
ing to learn to guard yourself better? She sighed. Maybe Sage had it right. Maybe it was safer to shut off her emotions – build a wall around her heart.
Then a warm hand rested gently on her knee. “Aila,” Marcelo said. “You would have made a wonderful daughter. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
Damn, he sounded so sincere she almost believed him. It brought a small smile to her lips even as she was shaking her head in denial.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
She refused at first, not sure if she could keep her emotions in check.
He gave her knee a slight squeeze. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, she did. His eyes were warmth – cinnamon and smoke – they penetrated straight to her soul.
“Anyone would be lucky to have you, Aila. I mean it.”
Her face felt flush and she turned quickly to stare out the window. The gray sky darkened as they headed into dusk. Her eyelids grew heavy with the lull of the engine and the fading light. Just when she contemplated another nap, the sound of screeching tires erupted around them. She turned to look out the back window and saw two sleek black cars following them. Not just following them, trying to run them off the road! The adrenaline burst had her heart pumping in less than a second.
Marcelo cursed as he watched through the rearview mirror. “You buckled?”
She nodded, too stunned to speak.
He ran his gaze quickly across her body. “You might want to hold on.”
Without giving her time to question him, he pressed on the gas and they flew down the windy forested highway.
“Marcelo, what are we – Ahh!” she squeaked when a thud hit the back of the car and propelled them forward. Marcelo got control of the car but seconds later it was thrust forward again, a slicing metal sound indicating the bumper was dragging.
“What are we going to do?” she yelled over the raucous of engines and Marcelo’s cursing.
Before he could answer, a definitive bang indicated someone had fired a gun. The back window shattered as the bullet whizzed through the car. The only reason Aila knew it hit Marcelo’s seat was because she could smell it. Metal and gunpowder.
Marcelo grabbed the back of her head and pushed her down in the seat. “Get down!”
Everything happened so quickly she could barely keep up. The car was rammed from both sides and swerved, screeching and skidding but stayed on the road. Glass shattered all around them while she covered her head.
“Take the wheel,” Marcelo demanded.
What? Oh, hell no! “I- I can’t!”
Not wasting a minute arguing, he scooped her out of her seat and switched places before she could refuse. When she took her foot off the accelerator, he barked, “Don’t you dare! You keep that pedal to the ground, do you understand me?”
He’d clearly gone mad. Before she could question his obviously dwindling judgment, he said, “I’ll be right back.” Then he disappeared.
Her jaw dropped and a sort of strangled squeak left her mouth as she now found herself driving alone down a deserted highway at 100mph with two cars trying to run her off the road. Great, I just fucking entered a real life version of Need for Speed.
***
Marcelo traversed to the back seat of the closest car. He slammed his elbow into the passenger knocking him out cold. The driver was trickier. The sorcerer pulled power into one hand and a red ball of light flickered with lethal energy. He held his arm up and steady, his eyes narrowed at Marcelo. Just as he released it, Marcelo forced the man’s hands forward at the last second. The Bolt flew from his palm and shattered the windshield. Marcelo covered his eyes with an arm. The driver screamed as shards of glass cut his flesh. The Bolt rammed into the Mustang, catapulting it several car lengths ahead. Aila screeched but kept her foot on the gas and stayed on the road. He smiled with pride as he snapped the sorcerer’s neck then traversed back to the car.
“You’re doing great,” he said from the back seat.
She gave a startled yelp.
“Have you done this before?” He tried to keep her talking while he ripped through the back seat until the fuel tank was exposed.
“Oh, yes. Every Tuesday and twice on Fridays.” She may have been joking but she sounded like a ball of nerves.
Marcelo dug a cotton shirt and a lighter out of one of the backpacks. He shoved the cloth into the fuel tank.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Aila asked in a hysterical tone, watching him in the rear view mirror.
“Getting us out of here. When I say go, I want you to take your foot off the gas, move to the passenger seat, then cover your head with your arms. Understand?”
A look of sheer panic crossed her face. “I…uh…but –”
“No time for questions.” He peered out the back window as the last car raced to catch up. “Just follow my instructions and we might make it out of this alive.”
She nodded her head stiffly and her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. In no more than three seconds he’d lit the rag, dove for Aila, then rolled out the car door keeping her tucked into his body. After several rolls, he yanked her to her feet then pulled her into the shelter of the trees. Two seconds later, the car slid off the road, slammed into a tree and exploded. Aila grinded to a halt, stopping him with her, and spun around to watch the damage. The last sorcerer’s car screeched and swerved trying to avoid the ball of inferno, but it failed. Aila stared at the effects of the collision, her eyes wide and her body stiff.
Marcelo took the opportunity to assess her for injuries. She had some dirt on her forehead, and her hair was a rumpled mess. A nasty looking strip of road rash covered her left leg. Her other knee was bruising already. He winced, more upset by the injuries than she seemed to be. Other than that, she appeared to be unharmed. He, on the other hand, had dislocated his shoulder on the fall. Gripping it with his good arm, he pushed it back in place with a soft grunt.
Aila finally snapped. She sunk down to her knees, crying out when she landed on the bruised one. He took a step towards her, wanting so badly to kiss away her pain.
“Aila,” he called softly.
If she heard him, she didn’t show it. Her mouth hung wide open and her hands trembled at her sides. She was in shock. Marcelo could see the reflection of the blaze in her wide eyes. He had the urge to lift her into his arms, cuddle her head to his chest, and whisper sweet words in her ear. Instinct told him to hold her, rock her, assure her that she was safe. But something told him she needed space until the shock wore off. It took a lot of effort for him to hold back. Instead he offered her a hand but she only looked through it. He could see the depth of her sorrow on her delicate features. It broke his heart.
“Don’t worry about the supplies, Aila,” he told her when a tear slid down her rosy cheek. “I’m vampire and you’re fae. We’ve survived centuries without sleeping bags and packaged food.”
“That’s not what I’m upset about,” she sobbed.
He stepped closer. “Then what is it, cosita?”
She stared down at her hands as her small shoulders shook with emotion. “M-my boots.”
Her what? “Gods, woman,” he whispered, running a hand through his straggly hair. “You need to get your priorities straight.” He paced for a moment then stepped in front of her, placing his hand closer. “Come, Aila. We have to keep moving. You can mourn for your boots later.”
She dried her tears with the back of her hand then gracefully untangled her hair, pleating them in two braids. She took his outstretched hand and rose to her feet.
“Good girl,” he praised, unable to refrain from encouraging her strength. He pulled her into his body for a brief hug, fighting back the compulsion to kiss the top of her head, her lips, her nose, her ears –
“Marcelo.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “You’re kinda suffocating me.”
Immediately he released her. He ran his gaze over her body once more, looking for any injury he may have missed. “Flex then straighten your arms,” he ordered.
She gave him a quizzical glare but did it.
“Now roll your shoulders.”
“What are you –”
“Just do it. Please.”
She did.
“Anything hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He knelt on the ground and looked at her swollen knee.
“I said I’m fine.” She sounded irritated but she held still while he inspected it.
“How badly does it hurt?” He touched her gently, feeling for a fracture.
She shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
He gave her a look then pushed on it harder. She winced and hissed in a breath.
He arched a brow. “You were saying?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fae. Don’t I heal fast or something?”
“Not as fast as most immortals, but yes, faster than a human.”
“Then what are you worried about? I’ll be fine.”
When he stood and tried to lift her shirt to check her ribs she jumped back. “Hey! Hands to yourself!” She swatted at his advancing hands.
Humans were ridiculously modest. Ignoring her protest, he spun her around and lifted her shirt to inspect her back. No bruises marked her sun-kissed skin. Perfect skin. He couldn’t resist running his fingers down her spine just to feel its softness. He stopped himself just short of kissing it. She shuddered and he smiled inside. Her body responds to me even if her mind does not.
Turning her back around, he told her, “It doesn’t pay to be the tough guy, Aila. If at any time something hurts, you must tell me. While we’re out here in the woods, away from civilization and medical care, a simple injury could become serious very quickly.”
Her brow furrowed as she smoothed her shirt. “Something is hurting me right now.”
“What?”
“You! Your lecturing is making my ears bleed.” She gestured deeper into the woods. “Can we go?”
Marcelo chuckled. Her fae temper was back. She’s going to be fine. Stepping towards the wilderness, he forced himself to give a curt nod. What he really wanted to do was kiss that disrespectful little mouth. Soon, mi mujercita. Soon you will be underneath me while I possess your sweet body. He wouldn’t deny himself much longer. Her time would be up and she would be his – mind, body, and soul.
