Page 24 of Mortal Heart

To distract himself, he continued looking around Arkady’s house. In an odd contradiction to the well-used target, she’d left a cozy blanket folded neatly on the back of the couch, perfect for an evening at home reading, listening to music, or in front of the television.

When had he last spent a quiet evening in front of a television? He frowned at the jacket, trying to remember. Had heever?Surely in all his long years he must have, but so much time had passed that he no longer recalled when or where. His nights tended to involve riding his Harley from one job to the next or sitting on a barstool or at a table in a crowded, noisy bar. For that matter, he doubted he’d enjoy a dull, quiet night watching television.

The door to Arkady’s room opened almost exactly ten minutes after she’d closed it. She emerged, her hair wrapped in a towel and a different pair of boots in her hand. Other than the towel and shoes, she’d redressed completely.

“Conditioning my jacket wasn’t part of our wager, but I’ll accept it as a bonus,” Arkady said as she sat cross-legged on the other end of the couch to towel-dry her hair. She smelled of soap, peppermint oil he thought might have been in her shampoo, and minty mouthwash. And of a few swigs of tequila, which she’d tried to cover by using the mouthwash. “Obviously you don’t have a lead for us,” she added. “So where’s my coffee, Ronan?”

Hedidhave a lead, though…just not from one of his contacts. But did he want to win their wager, or lose? If he won, there was the promise of Arkady’s mouth, and he’d be a liar if he claimed that prospect didn’t make him hard.

If he lost, he’d get to return to her home to clean her kitchen until it sparkled and bring her the best bottle of tequila his money could buy. Given the way he’d started to feel about her, which had more promise?

He weighed a couple of factors and made a decision. “I have a lead,” he said.

“Right.” She snorted. “My ass.”

“If only your lovely ass was the lead in question, I would most assuredly investigate it thoroughly,” he said dryly. “But alas, that’s not what I suggest we investigate next—unless we’re giving up to spend the remainder of our night engaged in other activities.”

She didn’t take the bait, however. “We’re not giving up on anything.” She tossed the towel over the back of the couch and combed her damp hair. “So tell me about this supposed lead you’ve magically gotten in the last ten minutes, O Great and Mighty One.”

He settled back into the couch. “First, just to clarify: since I’ve won our wager, I get to decide what you do with your mouth?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I haven’t seen any evidence whatsoever that you’ve won jack shit, sweet pea.”

“But if I have a viable lead, I win, yes?” he persisted.

Now she definitely smelled a rat. Her eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t be trying to trick me into an unearned blowjob, would you?”

“I’m insulted.” He wasn’t really, but he leaned forward and locked his gaze on hers so she could see how serious he was. “First, I’d never trick you. Second, I assure you thatwhenyou do that for me, it will be entirely of your own accord, and I will have more than earned it.”

She squirmed in a way that made it difficult for him to think about anything besides her mouth on him. “Stop deliberately turning me on when we have work to do,” she said crossly. “I know you said you’re not a gentleman, and that’s fine, but you don’t have to be a dick.”

He had to fight to keep a straight face. “I shall endeavor not to be a dick.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll believe it when I see it.” She set her comb aside and put her hair in a ponytail. “Fine. What’s your lead?”

He figured she’d either go along with him or stab him. Possibly both. There was only one way to find out what her reaction would be. “You,” he said.

She stared at him for a few beats before comprehension made her expression go cold and her eyes turn flinty.

“You know where Oliver Mora learned that phrasemy sweetness.” He kept his voice matter-of-fact, knowing sympathy would only anger her more. “And you know as well as I do how and why Mora died.”

If he’d thought her expression was cold, that was nothing compared to the deadly chill in her voice. “Ageas,” she said.

“Exactly. Someone spelled him to never say the name of whoever he’d heard use those words, or probably even to describe them.”

“But I’d spelled him to speak the truth,” she interjected. “And so he tried to tell me the name and promptly croaked. Fucking vampires.” She stuck her right foot into her boot and stomped the floor to put it on, then did the same with her left boot, as if the hardwood beneath her feet was the face of her enemy.

He waited while she tied her boots. At least she hadn’t stabbed him yet. Maybe that was a good sign.

“I’m not sorry Mora’s dead, but Iamsorry we didn’t get more information out of him.” She rested her forearms on her knees. “So I’m supposed to blow you because you picked up on the blatantly obvious?”

He knew she’d said it that way because he’d angered her, and because she very much did not want to talk about the vampire in question. And maybe she wanted him to feel cheap for trying to cash in on their wager.

“You never asked me what I wanted you to do with your mouth,” he pointed out. “You keep assuming I want a blowjob.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “If you tell me you don’t, I’m going to be very insulted. So think real hard about what you say next.”

“Miss Woodall, there are few things in all of Creation I want more,” he said, very seriously. “But at the moment, what I want you to do with your mouth is tell me about this vampire who called youmy sweetnessand bit you without your permission.”

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