"So you really can read minds?" Tony asked as he finished his shot.
"Only chaotic thoughts. Sometimes."
Jaz shook his head. "Most times, judging by that demonstration at the hall."
Tony leaned forward. "So what am I thinking now?"
"Whatever it is, you don't really mean it. For example, you can think you'd like to strangle Jaz, but unless you mean it, I won't detect it."
"What if it's just wishful thinking?" Sonny said.
Jaz snatched the bottle from him and they parried insults for a minute.
"Cut it out, you two," Rodriguez called over. "I want to hear more about this power. How about we all think something bad, and see if Faith picks it up? We'll--"
I didn't hear the rest, caught up in the vision of a voluptuous redhead, writhing, bound to a bed. I followed it to a red-haired woman on the dance floor, then tracked it back to the source.
"Tony!" I shuddered. "Please. I think I need brain soap after that."
"What did you hear?" Jaz asked.
"Not hear. See. In living color." I glanced meaningfully at the redhead.
"Shit," Tony said.
"You doubted her?" Jaz smacked Tony's arm. "Dumb ass. I warned you. So what was he thinking about the girl?"
I shook my head.
Sonny waved the bottle. "Another couple of these and she'll tell us."
"Shit, guys," Tony muttered. "I was just joking."
"Uh-uh," Jaz said. "Remember what she said. If you aren't serious, she doesn't hear it. Or see it, apparently."
Sonny refilled our shot glasses. Tony gulped his, then took a second. I lifted mine.
"You don't have to drink it," Jaz whispered. "If you don't, I won't. No one will say anything."
My head was still spinning from the first, and I knew this one would take me over the edge. But I wanted to drink it. Hope Adams wouldn't. One shot--sipped and probably in a margarita--would have been her limit. But tonight I didn't want to be Hope. Didn't want to be twenty-seven years old, happy in my dead-end job, dumped by a middle-aged werewolf, struggling to make my family proud of me, staving off the demonic urges by sipping chaos, never satisfied, never full. Tonight, I wanted to be Faith Edmonds, twenty-one, no job, no responsibilities, chugging back chaos like tequila shots, getting sloshed in a nightclub, on the lap of the hottest guy in the room.
I downed the shot.
The room reeled. Jaz gulped his. His green eyes glittered with the buzz, and his arms tightened around me as he nuzzled my neck, hands sliding down my hips.
"Jesus," Tony said. "Not wasting any time with the new girl, are you?"
"He barely let her get in the front door before he pounced," Sonny said. "Making sure she didn't have time to check out her options."
"Jump before anyone else gets a chance, huh?" Tony said, kicking him under the table.
Jaz lifted his head from my neck. "After what she just saw in your head, I don't think you had a chance."
The others laughed and kept on Tony, razzing him, but Jaz's attention returned to me, his hands rubbing my arms, then sliding down my legs, his whispers telling me he was well on the way to being drunk. I leaned back against him and lapped it up.
"What time is it?" he murmured.
I sputtered a laugh. "Why? Is there someplace you need to be?"
"No, just wondering. I'd check myself but..." His fingers slid to the inside of my thighs. "My hands are busy."
I sighed and lifted my arm. There, on my wrist, was a sparkling new gold and silver Cartier.
"Holy shit."
"You said yours was a cheapie." He nibbled my earlobe. "You deserve better."
I lifted the watch, admiring it through the haze of tequila. "It's gorgeous."
"Yours is in your purse."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." His nibbles moved down the side of my neck, making me shiver. "But I hope that's not all I get."
I twisted to kiss him over my shoulder.
"Uh-uh."
He put his hands under my armpits and lifted me from his lap and for a second, my fogged brain scrambled to figure out what I'd done wrong. Then he turned me around to face him.
"Ah." I swung my leg over his lap, straddling him. "Better?"
He put his hands on my rear and boosted me closer. "Much. Now, as you were about to do..."
I brought my lips up to his. Any other time, that would have been all I'd have done--a quick buss with a teasing promise that he'd get more later...when we weren't in a nightclub, on the edge of a crowded dance floor, sitting at a table surrounded by his friends. I'm a private person, and it doesn't get much more public than that. But my brain still buzzed from the tequila and my body buzzed from the heist.
I kissed him the way I would have kissed him back there, if Guy hadn't interrupted--a deep, hungry kiss, legs wrapping around his hips, body pressed against his, hands twining in his curls. He kissed me back as if this was exactly what he'd hoped for, his mouth crushing mine, tongue sliding in.
I dimly heard the catcalls of the others. "I'll have what he's having." "Get a room!" "Hell, no, stay here and we'll clear off the table."
Jaz just kept kissing me and rubbing against me, so hard I gasped and arched up, breaking the kiss. His hands wrapped in my hair and he pulled me in again, and everything around me disappeared, sucked into the vacuum of the unbelievable vibes pulsing off him, like nothing I'd ever felt before, not anger or hatred or anything I could put a name to, but pure, unadulterated chaos. When I looked into his eyes, I saw fire--beautiful, devouring flames of chaos and hunger and need, and something deeper that told me I was what he hungered for, what he needed and--
The world went black. A snarl echoed through the darkness. Fangs flashed. The smell of blood, then the splatter of it, thick and hot. The brush of fur against my skin, dark as the night around it.
I ricocheted from the vision, breaking the kiss. My gaze tripped over the crowd, searching for the face I knew was out there: Karl.
Jaz's hands slid to the back of my head, and he pulled my ear to his lips.
"Sorry," he whispered, breath coming hard, words disjointed. "Too fast. Not here. Got carried away."
"It's not--I thought I heard my parents' ring tone." I pulled my personal cell phone from my pocket and flipped it open. "Shit, shit, shit!"
Jaz rubbed my arm. "Pretend you didn't hear it."
"I can't. I'm supposed to check in every night. After last year, I'm on a very tight leash. I miss curfew, even down here, and I'm cut off."
"Better call back then...from someplace quieter. Come on. We'll find--"
"No," I said as I slid off his lap. "You stay. I'll be right back."
HOPE
HUNGRY
I crossed the road and slipped into a back alley. A blast of night air knocked away the last haze of tequila. Karl had seen me with Jaz, on his lap, drunk and making a fool of--
I rubbed my face. I was twenty-seven, single and entitled to go out, get wasted and get laid.
I sensed Karl's silent approach. I braced myself, and turned. And he was there, like so many times before, arriving unannounced, simply...appearing--in a parking lot, a grocery store, my living room. I'd glimpse the werewolf vision, look up and he'd be there, acting as if he'd just stepped out for a minute and returned.
As he strode down the alley, the shadows hid all but his shape. It didn't matter. His image was ingrained in my brain. I glanced at the shadow and saw that handsome face, jawline a little too strong, nose a little too sharp, but the flaws only adding an edge, a masculinity that belied the perfect grooming, the designer clothes. A wolf in banker's clothing, I'd tease, and he'd laugh and make a wry joke at his own expense, always the first to poke fun at the image he cultivated.
But tonight there was no laugh. No uber-confident smile. His face was a stone mask, his gray-blue eyes as cold as if he'd been striding up to a stranger. I saw that, and my last glimmer of hope guttered out.
I tried to read him, but when he wa
s angry, he kept his thoughts a swirl, no image or words concrete enough for me to pluck out.
"Sorry to tear you away," he said, each word clipped.
I forced a grin and plucked at my sweaty T-shirt. "That's okay. I could use a few minutes of fresh air."
"You're drunk."
"Because, naturally, that's the only explanation for being on a guy's lap in a nightclub. Actually, I'm not drunk. Working on it, though. What I was doing was following orders. Yours, if I recall."
"Orders?"
"Last thing you said to me. Before good-bye." I frowned. "Or did you say good-bye? Come to think of it, I'm not sure. But I know you did say you thought I should date other supernaturals, more my own age. He's a couple of years younger, but he is a supernatural, and half your age, so I figure that's close enough."
I wanted to stop. I imagined what my mother would do in this situation--and I wanted to be like her and to rise above it. But seeing him, I was back to that morning, in that grove, feeling his words like knives. And all I could think about now was stabbing him back.
I wished that night in the pool had never happened. I wanted things back the way they'd been, Karl back the way he'd been.
I imagined how this scene would have played out without that night. I could see it, Karl luring me off the dance floor, then slipping ahead and cornering me--literally cornering me, as he loved to do, backing me against a wall and getting so close all I could see, hear and smell was him and all I could think about was getting him close enough to feel him, to taste him.
He'd corner me, then tease me about the "boy" in the nightclub, daring me to give him five minutes and I'd forget there'd ever been a boy in a nightclub.
I could imagine his voice, arrogant and self-mocking at the same time, his tone light as if to say, "You can take me up on it if you want or we can pretend I'm only kidding."
I wanted that back--that banter, that lighthearted seduction, that Karl, not the cold, scowling man three feet away, his gaze shunting to the alley mouth as if counting the seconds until he could escape.
"Tell Benicio to find you another job," I said.
He frowned, brow creasing.
"I don't know how he got in touch with you; I didn't give him the number. I'm sorry if he dragged you back from Europe, but that's something you need to take up with him. You aren't needed here...or wanted."
His shoulders tightened. Ego. That's all it was--all it ever was with Karl. He'd pursued me, caught me and dumped me, and now he was annoyed because I wasn't pining for him.
"Benicio didn't call me," he said. "I'm here because he should have. This is my debt."
"No, it's mine, and I have it under control."
"So I saw." His gaze slid in the direction of the club. "I suppose that's one way to get information from a man."
My fists clenched and I longed to smack him. Hit him as hard as I could, and make it hurt as much as he'd hurt me. But it wouldn't hurt him at all. Nothing did.
I managed to smile and shrug. "Whatever works. That's what you taught me. Go on home, Karl, wherever home is these days. This doesn't concern you. Nothing I do concerns you anymore. You made that clear."
He had the gall to look surprised. "I never said--"
"It was a long hunt, and probably not worth the reward, but you finally caught your prey. Congratulations, you're every bit the irresistible stud you think you are. Now leave me alone. Please."
I circled past him, heading back to the club. He grabbed my arm.
"Hope--"
He stopped, head jerking around, following some noise I couldn't hear. His fingers tightened and he started down the alley, fingers still wrapped around my elbow. I dug in my heels. With his strength, it was the equivalent of a two-year-old balking, but the jolt was enough for him to realize I wasn't following willingly.
He shot me an impatient scowl, annoyed that I should object to being dragged deeper into a dark alley. As I looked back, a shadow stretched over the street-lit alley mouth. Someone was coming. I shook Karl off and brushed past him, getting farther down the passage on my own.
Two club-goers slipped into the alley. A noise from Karl that I knew he'd call a mutter, but was indistinguishable from a dog's low warning growl. He aimed a glare at the intruders, jaw tensing, and I knew he'd love nothing more than to stride down there and shoo them out--by the scruff of their necks if necessary. He was in this alley, therefore it was, for the moment, his territory. But, like the growl, he'd never admit to the impulse. He was a civilized man, not a half-wolf savage, and anyone who made that mistake would be quickly corrected.
So he settled for glowering at the intruders and pretending he felt no inclination to tear down there and kick their asses. They completed their transaction--drugs, I presume--and left. He watched them go, then turned to me, and when he did, the anger--all the anger--had faded from his eyes and he just looked tired.
"I need to discuss this with you, Hope, but it can wait until morning. Go back to your...friend."
I thought of returning to Jaz, but the evening's high had evaporated, and I wouldn't find it again.
"No, let's get this over with," I said.
I TEXT MESSAGED Jaz, saying I was in trouble with my parents and had to get back to my apartment. He wouldn't be happy, but I'd deal with that tomorrow...after I'd handled this and sent Karl on a fast plane home.
I told Karl what I'd done.
"I give him ten minutes to be at your apartment door."
"He won't."
Karl snorted. "You think he's just going to let it go at that? He--"
"He won't because he doesn't have my address."
"No?"
"No."
A grunt of something I couldn't make out. He led me into a lot and toward a trio of cars--a Porsche, a Ferrari and a Lexus. I glanced at the Lexus. Nothing sporty or eye-catching--just sleek, powerful and luxurious. A banker's car. I walked over to it. Not a rental sticker to be seen. I stopped at the passenger door. A blip of the key fob and the door opened. I got inside.
"This probably isn't something we should discuss in a public place," I said as he started the car. "Where's your hotel?"
"I don't have one. We can talk at your apartment."
I tried to think of a way out of this that wouldn't sound petty. When I couldn't find one, I gave him directions.
WE DROVE A couple of miles in silence, then Karl said, "Back there in the alley. What you said about that morning, about what I said...it wasn't like that."
"You didn't say it?"
He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "I meant that your interpretation wasn't my intent."
"How else does one interpret, 'I'm leaving and I want you to date other guys'?"
A moment of silence, then, "You're right."
That's all he said: you're right.
More long moments of quiet, stretching into minutes. I cleared my throat. "I know this is awkward and you're trying to make it less awkward, but that isn't necessary. We're going to bump into each other even after this business with Benicio. Maybe we'll even have to work together through the council. That's fine. I have no problem maintaining a professional relationship with you, Karl."
"Professional relationship?"
"Yes, I can behave professionally, as shocking as that may seem."
"That's not--" A pause. "So that's it then. You don't want me coming around anymore."
I wanted to scream, "What do you think?" But I knew what he thought. That whatever he'd done, when he showed up, his irresistibly charming self, I'd want him back. Not that I'd get him--he just liked to be wanted.
"No, Karl, I don't want you coming around anymore."
His jaw tightened and I expected it to stay locked for the rest of the trip, but after he turned the next corner, he asked, "Are you hungry?"
My stomach flipped; those words were so familiar. Werewolves have an abnormally high metabolism, meaning a normal restaurant meal is never enough. He'd often have one dinner at six and another at nine, jus
t to avoid calling attention to himself by overeating. Tonight he probably hadn't eaten at all, so he'd be starving. But to admit to it? That would be to give in to the wolf, to concede that there were some instincts and drives he couldn't control.
So, when he was hungry, he'd ask if I was, and I'd long ago learned this was shorthand for, "Can we please get something to eat before I start gnawing on the furniture?" Sometimes I'd tease him, but usually I'd just play along and say yes. Then late one night, he'd come to my place hungry after the restaurants in town had closed, so I'd offered to cook for him. And after that, "Are you hungry?" became "Will you make me dinner?" And I always did because it was something I could do for him.
With Karl, taking wasn't easy. If he went to dinner with one of his Pack mates, he'd always pay, and I'm sure they thought he was being generous--or racking up brownie points to redeem later--but the truth was he couldn't stand to be indebted. So he'd visit me, he'd listen to me and he'd help me, but he'd never take anything in return...except home-cooked meals. So I did that for him--willingly and even happily.
And now, Karl was asking, "Are you hungry?" In some ways, that hurt more than all his jabs and icy glances.
"Restaurants are probably closed," I said finally. "Maybe a drive-through?"
He scanned the dark street. "It doesn't look promising. Do you have anything at the apartment?"
I shook my head.
"I see a convenience store at the next corner," he said. "They're bound to have groceries. I'll buy--"
"No." I took a quick breath. "No, Karl. I won't."
We drove the rest of the way in silence.
HOPE
DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS
I didn't offer Karl a drink at the apartment. Not even something nonalcoholic. I wasn't being petty--like I'd said, my cupboards were bare. Which was odd for me. Even traveling on business, one of my first stops was the local convenience store to get some drinks and snacks for my hotel room. A nesting instinct, I guess, to give myself a stable home base wherever I am. But here I'd been too distracted to even pick up bottled water.
Karl wasn't looking for details on the job. He already had them--courtesy of Lucas. What had him flying out to Miami was a breach of promise. Apparently, Benicio and Karl had an understanding that we'd repay this debt together. I tried to take the blame, telling him that Benicio had wanted to back out when he learned Karl was away.
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