“A thousand pardons,” he said, breathy. He’d even taken on a slight Spanish accent. “Your decision to disrobe was most unexpected.”
What did the guy want? I’d kept my red thong. God, I couldn’t wait to get back to the pack where I could run around naked in peace.
I planted my hands on my hips. “Do you really want me to put that crap back on again?”
The front door burst open and I lunged for my knives. I had them at the intruder’s neck before he’d taken two steps inside.
“Whoa! Whoa!” He gurgled. “It’s me. Vinny.”
“How do I know?” I demanded.
This guy looked like a waiter or something. Then I smelled him. “Hey, it is Vinny.”
“And yet you’re still holding a knife to his throat,” Lucien pointed out.
Vinny’s eyes flicked down to my breasts, which were smashed up against his chest. “You know, I don’t mind so much.”
“Pervert.” I let him go. What was it with non-weres and nudity?
Lucien flung off his tie and unbuttoned his crisp white dress shirt, his fingers impatient. Just when I thought he’d seen the light, he shoved his shirt at me. “Put this on.”
As far as chests went, he had a nice one. Smooth and firm. Ripped without looking like he tried.
I took the shirt. “So you can relax, but I can’t.”
“I’m not relaxed.”
“Oh fine.” I slipped the cotton monstrosity over my shoulders.
Vinny shook his head. “I gotta tell you, ‘Mitzy’ sure stirred things up out there.”
The back of my neck prickled. “How do you know?”
“Waiters hear all. They’re wondering if Mr. Duke here has a Las Vegas hooker fetish.”
Lucien groaned.
“Come on, gorgeous. Blue eye shadow?”
“I like blue,” I protested.
Lucien sighed. “Vinny, maybe you can give her some pointers?”
“Are you kidding? I’d make it worse. I even liked her shoes.”
“What was wrong with my shoes?”
“Damn it.” Lucien pulled out his phone. “We need some more backup.”
Another creature in the mix? “I don’t like it,” I said to Vinny.
He threw the bolt on the door. “You didn’t like what happened out there, either.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as Lucien left a message for someone named Tia.
Wait. “Not the Tia?” Otherwise known as a Predator?
“She’s trustworthy,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
“Oh yeah?” I bristled. “When were you even going to tell me you knew her?”
“Right now.”
Well, la-dee-dah. “Anything else you’d like to share?” I demanded.
“This is how I work,” he said, closing the distance between us. “I’m an investigator. I have a network. I have contacts. I focus on the facts, the details, the minutiae others miss.”
“I don’t care if you’re the Sherlock Holmes of the undead. I want you to level with me. How do you know Tia?”
He backed off. “I’ve known her husband for nearly a century.”
“What? Were you drinking buddies?”
He ignored me. “His pharmacy was on my beat. Many years ago.”
“Oh goody.” I broke away to inspect the first floor, giving in to the urge to roam.
Naturally Lucien followed. The man needed a lesson on werewolves.
Of course, I could also use a guide to all things posh and annoying. “What aren’t you telling me about Tia the Predator?” I didn’t need my powers to know he was holding back. He’d held himself wrong. Everyone did it when they lied. One shoulder down, spine bent slightly crooked. I’d learned to recognize the signs.
“She lives on this block. On Mysteria Lane.”
“I figured that.”
“Tia is”—he paused, searching for the words—“she’s a survivor. And she’s trustworthy,” he insisted. I could tell he believed it.
“Okay.” My day couldn’t get any worse. Might as well partner with a predatory werewife. I’d mojo her with my truth powers and see for myself whether I should trust her—or truss her up in the basement.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“So it seems.” What you see is what you get.
I don’t know why he was so surprised.
Lucien trailed behind me as I began to inspect our headquarters. It was a security nightmare—windows everywhere. There was a door leading out to a sunroom, a door to the garage, a door out the back of the kitchen. We’d have to invest in some good locks. I didn’t look forward to sleeping here without them.
“So have you spent a lot of time on Mysteria Lane?” I asked.
“Hardly,” he said behind me. “I try to avoid eternal life-digging weres.”
“It would cramp the bloodsucking playboy routine a bit, wouldn’t it?” I asked, moving on to the sunken living room.
He shrugged, not bothering to deny it.
Why would a vampire even get married?
Mmm ... I wriggled my toes. The thick plush carpeting felt amazing.
He stopped at the edge of the sunken living room. Everything was done up in shades of white—the couch, the woven rugs, even the mantel decorations.
“So what do we tell the vulture the next time?” I asked, inspecting a white pointy piece of marble. “Why did you marry me?” It was an element of our story we hadn’t worked out.
“It was love at first sight,” he said tartly. “I couldn’t help myself.”
I laughed out loud. “No one’s going to buy that.” I wasn’t sure which was funnier—this broody vamp falling in love or me being the object of anybody’s affections.
I tried a light switch and the fireplace roared to life. Sweet.
“No offense,” I said, “but you don’t impress me as the lovey-dovey type.” In fact, he had the brooding down pat.
“I can be affectionate,” he said, in that pounce-y way of his.
Oh no. “When was the last time you ate?” I fought the urge to run, feeling his shirt swirl along my thighs.
“That’s a little personal,” he said, his eyes roaming my body.
No, it wasn’t. But what he wanted to do to me sure was. “I don’t care how sexy you are. I’m not dinner.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You implied.”
He gave me a heated look. “I can’t help what I am.”
“What? A ravenous vampire?”
“No. Male.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Let’s get one thing straight, buddy. We are a pretend married couple. Fake!”
He arched a brow. “Yes, but we might as well enjoy our roles.”
He had to be kidding. “What is that? Part of your method of deduction?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Well, quit it. I’m off-limits.”
“Pity,” he said, as if he meant it.
For a moment, I felt like more than a meal. It was as if he noticed me. He wanted me.
But it was impossible. I’d always be on the outside. I’d learned that back with my pack.
“You said all weres were eternal life-diggers.”
“I didn’t ask you to marry me.”
A flicker of warmth caught my stomach. “Then what exactly are you asking?”
A long beat passed between us.
“Forget it.” I rushed to say something—anything—before he did. “I don’t want to know.”
He didn’t want me anyway. He couldn’t.
I retreated through the kitchen, my bare feet slapping against the chilly ceramic floor. “Where’s the luggage? I’m going to bed.”
I could hear his easy strides behind me. “Clothing and personal items were delivered to our bedroom this afternoon.”
Our bedroom? I halted at the foot of the stairs. “Listen, fang breath, I sleep alone.”
“Shocking.” He trailed me up the stairs.
“Isn’t it, though?”
We arrived at a master bedroom suite, large enough to house a family of eight. It was done up in gold and burgundy, with antique furniture and ornate lamps scattering warm yellow light.
“That is the biggest bed I’ve seen in my life.”
“You won’t even notice I’m there,” he said behind me.
“Of course not because you’re sleeping in there.” I turned and pointed to a well-appointed room across the hall.
He didn’t even bother to look. “Vinny is sleeping across the hall.”
“Then take one of the other five bedrooms.” I didn’t care.
It was a shame, though. I was used to being both respected and shunned by the pack. Nobody had ever wanted me. Now the one man who might, also happened to want to eat me.
I couldn’t win.
Lucien braced his hands on the door frame, filling it completely, and I had the horrible sensation of wanting to close the distance between us.