Page 27 of Soulmates
Ouch.
“About the only person I know for sureisn’t trying to get me isthe dead guy I’m fucking.”
A real hero would say something dramatic, promising to protect him with body and soul. Instead, I say, “Oh, I’m trying to get you all right” in my best gangster drawl and kiss him again.
Soon we’ll grab my Escalade from its hiding spot on an old forest service road and head back into the city. We’ll figure out how do to an end run around his uncle and get David back to his real life. And somewhere along the way, I’m due for a conversation with my not-dead ex.
This thing with David won’t last—can’t last—but right now, pressed against him belly to belly, he’s everything I want.
I might not be able to say the words, but I vow to do whatever it takes to keep him safe.
Part Two:Golden Wolf
Chapter Nine
David…
TO TUCK OR not to tuck?
Not really a question. I turn sideways in the crappy mirror, an antique medicine cabinet with a thin band of chrome framing the crackled glass. All I see is a skinny werewolf with a thing for dressing like a girl. I mean, I’ve had two bodies since I was a kid. Maybe sometimes I wish I was built like Scarlett Johansson, but this right here isnotjust a rebellious phase, thank you very much. Shifting taught me to be suspicious of limits.
Standing on tiptoe, I get a warped profile shot. My little silver mini doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and while tucking would smooth out the front, if I package the jewels, any excitement and I’ll be in serious pain.
And Tony-the-hot-vampire can beveryexciting.
Dad insisted on hiring me a bodyguard, and now I’m stuck with him. Trajan—I call him Tony just to fuck with him—is not my type, but he’s not ugly, either. And not straight. The opposite of straight, in fact. I’m not going to be losing my heart to a vampire, but since my vacation turned to shit, at least I’m getting regular sex. Very regular sex.
Even so, I’m not sure I should stick around. For now, we’re together until Trajan decides I’m safe, and while I kind of hate relying on him, my big attempt at self-sufficiency didn’t work out so well. I’m an alpha by nature, though, so waiting around for anyone’s permission sucks.
Maybe I would be better off on my own.
Without answering my own question, I fumble through my pouch of lipsticks, happy it’s here and not in Sheena’s storage locker with the rest of my stuff. Carting two oversized suitcases and a messenger bag full of makeup and hair product all the way up here seemed like overkill, so I consolidated and stashed the rest. Ever since my uncle showed me how things really stand, we’ve been hiding in a cabinin the woods, about two hours out of Los Angeles. Trajan’s friend Sheena’s the only one who knows we’re here. She’s an Amazon, at least a foot taller than me, and I wouldn’t want to take her on in a fight. Every couple of days, she brings food and plastic bags of blood, even though Tony-the-dumbass could feed from me if he wanted to.
Anyway, Sheena’s our link to the city, and to keep me from going nuts, she raided my suitcases for some makeup, a couple of cute dresses, and myFluevogboots. Glossy black, high chunky heels, blunt toes; scoring these babies on sale might end up being the high point of my life.
I slide into the boots and zip them up. It’s nearly sunset, and my new favorite vampire will be up soon. I pull out a coral lip gloss with sparkles. Nope. Too gold for the dress. I go for a fuck-me red instead, amusing myself with anticipation.
Nothing quite like leaving blood-colored smears on a vampire’s dick.
The cabin is in the San Bernardino Mountains, tucked into a pocket of cedar trees, Douglas fir, and ponderosa pine. The March air is brisk despite the fading sunshine, but I’m a damned werewolf, so I don’t care. I want a cigarette, but if I smoke in the cabin, Trajan’ll bitch, and anyway, I want to fix my makeup more.
When the sun sinks behind the tallest trees, the light in the cabin goes from daytime to dusk in about three minutes. I can see pretty well in the dark—not as good as a vampire, but close—but I’ve just made a swipe with the red color over my lower lip when the sun checks out.
Lipstick is fussy work. I reach for the light switch, but my momentum is halted by a sound. The scrape of tires on a dirt road.
Sheena?
She’d shown up before lunch and left within twenty minutes. Said she had to be back in the city by four. No reason for her to have turned around.
I don’t touch the switch.
The darkness thickens around me. I’m in six-inch heels and a skirt so short, my bits hang to the hem. Not fighting clothes, and there’s no way in fuck I’m going to ruin these boots by shifting in them. The cabin’s small—two rooms and a closet. Tray has the closet door barred from the inside, and it won’t do me any good to try to wake him from his death sleep.
I slide out of the bathroom. Under the bed, there’s a shotgun. I crouch, reach, come up again armed and, despite the heels, dangerous.
Thefrontdooris the only way out, and it’slocked. I wait in the main room, findinga shadow where I can watch theporch. A car rolls up the drive. Not Sheena’s silver truck. A sedan, dark gray. No headlights,despite the gloom.
The car stops, the driver gets out, and I flip the gun’s safety. He’s tall, broader than Trajan, and he moves deliberately, like he knows where he’s going and who he’s going to see. His footsteps are heavy on thewooden porch. The door rattlesunder the force of his knock.
