Page 7 of The Way You Bite
Chapter Two
Vee could use about ten more minutes on hair and makeup. Her long, dark hair was out of its ponytail and up in a French twist. The result screamed rush job. A brief glance at her reflection in the cramped restroom mirror brought back her brother’s words from a few decades ago:“You’re a solid eight, sis. No way around it.”
Yep, size eight, five-foot-eight, and on a vamp male’s grading scale apparently she was an eight out of ten. Passable, but not one of the leggy, busty, pale beauties that made vamp men fall over themselves, not that she thought any “ten” vamp guys were worth aspiring for, given she was about to marry one. They might be gorgeous, but they were self-obsessed and narcissistic.
Catifea.She shook her head to clear Lexan’s low rumble of the word. No use. Her mind fixated itself on Mister Naked Hotness. Was it some form of endearment or threat? Although tempted to Google the term, there wasn’t time right now. Later.
You’re going to need me.The warning repeated itself over and over in her mind.
Her stomach churned. She didn’t need another ancient being playing mental chess with her. Her father’s manipulative antics and Ambrose’s political power plays were tough enough for her to handle.
Yet, a connection had passed between her and Lexan—something not about threats or blackmail. She couldn’t define exactly what it’d been, but maybe that’s to what his words referred. Maybe it was attraction. What would it feel like to lie next to his broad chest and rub against his skin? She shivered and then drove the image from her brain. Attending this wedding while mentally undressing a werewolf was suicidal. At least Ambrose wouldn’t be there. He was too busy on the West Coast to care about her half-sister’s arranged marriage.
She unwrapped and munched on a Hershey’s kiss. Then another. And went for a third.Stop eating, she screamed at herself. When nervous, she ate chocolate. It didn’t assuage the blood hunger, but it made her taste buds happy. Vamps, in general, despised chocolate, which meant growing up there hadn’t been any around. She’d discovered the delectable treats in college. Now she kept chocolate everywhere. The vampire aversion to cocoa came from a slight toxicity of the cocoa plant to a vampire’s digestive tract. At least, that’s what Roman told her. It wasn’t fatal but gave most vamps profound cramps. He proclaimed her unique.
Back to cosmetics. Her cheeks, flushed from the persistent image of Lexan naked, made it tough to gauge if she’d applied too much blush. She did a final swipe of mascara, trying ineffectively to separate her clumped eyelashes. Her makeup skills sucked, since she rarely used the stuff. A frustrated dark green gaze reflected at her in the mirror. She hated the splash of brown in her left eye.
With a shrug of defeat, she zipped the mini-makeup case.
…
“Waiting in this parking lot will get us killed,” Eric griped. “Hell, we’ll be lucky if a nosy pet owner doesn’t call the police on us for loitering.”
“Keep bitching and I might kill you myself,” Lexan mumbled. “Get in the car.”
“It’s dark. No one can see me.” Eric rolled his eyes without a hint of fear at the threat. He jerked on a T-shirt and hopped into the SUV driver’s seat. Between the stress of getting security in place for this Stateside visit and several subverted assassination attempts, he looked beat. The captain of his Elite Guard would never admit weakness, though. Not until he lay dead.
They both watched a yuppie couple try to entice two morbidly obese pugs to walk toward the hospital by using treats. The dogs refused, necessitating they be carried, which wasn’t easy given their heft.
“She’ll leave the hospital soon. Patience.” Lexan blew out a sigh. He wasn’t sure if he added the last for himself or Eric. Everything about meeting Velvet Scarpa had him wound tight.
“Damn it. If I’d known we were here to see a fucking Scarpa, I wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“Allowed?” He locked gazes with Eric.
Eric dropped his head in submission. “Poor word choice, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Why are we waiting for her to leave? Are we following her?”
“I want her to know we’re still around and that we will be talking later. We stay here until she leaves.” Lexan removed the gold chain he’d left in the glove box and fastened it around his neck. His fingers automatically caressed the small gold ring that dangled from the intricate links, the only remnant of his mother, who’d died as a vampire’s slave centuries ago. Vampires had stolen too much from him—his parents, his brother, and too many friends. The ring reminded him to be strong for his species. He must never forget those who were lost, and the vampires who killed them.
“It helps if you tell me the full plan.”
Lexan didn’t have a plan, only the need to see her again.
“All right. Keep the plan to yourself, then. The Squad might find us here.” Eric checked a handgun, performing a quick slide to chamber a round before holstering. “We can take them, if they show up.” He grinned. “I’m up for wiping out a few undertrained vamps.”
“You can tell half the team to head out. The Squad will be at the wedding, not here.”
Eric texted. One SUV pulled out and left.
Lexan looked two cars over and met TC’s gray gaze. The guy lounged against the driver’s side door of his SUV, flipping one of his beloved jambiya short curved daggers into the air before shoving it back into his pocket. The wolf refused firearms, a habit ingrained into him during his three decades in Yemen. He’d been forced into assassin training after his mother sold him to a wolf extremist sect. Hand-to-hand combat was TC’s hometown.
Lexan thought to TC,“Get in the car. Stop drawing attention to yourself.”
TC’s head slow-swiveled a scan of the parking lot. He ran a hand over the bristle on his shaved head, nodded, and disappeared behind the tinted glass of the SUV.
Eric flipped through screens on his cell phone. “She’s not what I expected.”
“She is different.” Lexan fixed an impassive look on his face to hide his internal chaos, which had detonated the moment she entered the exam room and still gripped his mind. He’d wanted her, but not for a solitary night like his rare encounters of the past half century. This fascination was driven by a need to know everything about her: what’d she like, how’d she taste, what noises she’d make when she came, how many males had she been with…No more. He blamed his anomalous reaction on going too long without sex. Years.
