Page 25 of Fangs for the Memories
I risk a glance over at him. He has his back to me, and he’s pulling his wet shirt over his head, revealing the most delicious muscular back I’ve ever seen. With the shirt gone, the pants are next, and to avoid literally drooling on the floor, I concentrate on picking up my clothes.
When I risk a look again, Ferenc is wearing a silk robe. Before I can do anything else, he strides over to me, cupping my chin in his hand.
“I need you to wait here, kedves,” he rasps.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“I need to deal with some vampires,” he half growls.
“All my stuff is at the Géllert,” I rush out. “It’s not much, but it’s all I have.”
For a second, Ferenc’s eyes blaze.
“I will have it sent here. You will stay with me.”
It’s an order, not a choice. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it, so I say nothing.
For a few long seconds, he studies my face.
“You are safe with me, Grace.”
“So you say.”
He releases a short snort of breath. I’m not sure if it’s because he likes my answer or dislikes it. I’m pleased at the ambiguity. I don’t have to dance to anyone’s tune anymore and certainly not his.
“I don’t want anyone poking in my things. I want to go to the Géllert and get them myself.”
Ferenc gazes at me. I don’t flinch from his dark eyes.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“So, I’m a prisoner here.”
“No,” he growls.
“But I can’t go and get my own luggage.”
This time the snort is clearly one of annoyance. I say nothing more, the silence stretching out between us while I look for the emotion on his face, any emotion.
But Ferenc is practiced in not showing any.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll get Viktor to take you.”
“Won’t you need him?”
“I don’t need anyone.” Ferenc releases my chin and stalks across the bathroom and out the door without a backwards glance.
I should be pleased I’ve got under his skin, but with everything I know, with the world I’ve found myself in, I am not.
My life was complicated enough before I ended up in the opulent home of a mafia boss who also happens to be a werewolf and a target for vampires. It’s a complication I could do without.
With Ferenc gone, I strip off my underwear and wrap my hair in a towel before I risk a peep out of the bathroom.
The vast bedroom is empty of large males. I pull on my clothing as quickly as I can before I go to the door and try the handle.
I’m fully expecting to be locked in.
But the handle turns, and I find myself face to face with the huge stone form of Viktor the gargoyle.
