“The victim chooses her own side. Very well. I won’t push you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”
Being labeled a victim did not sit well with her. She had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet the idea of missing out on his coercive sensual skills made Verity drop her shoulders. Should she reconsider helping him? What if she refused to help unless he kissed her?
“Come. It’s time we called it a night.”
He tugged her hand into his and led her through the living room and into the kitchen, where he promptly helped her on with her sweater. Gathering her long hair into his hands, he pulled it from the sweater and let it fall across her shoulders. He nuzzled his face into her hair and wrapped a hand around and across her stomach from behind.
“You have gotten inside me, Verity.”
“And yet you claim an inability to read me.”
“Frustrating, but the mystery of you is as sweet as a vanilla macaron.”
He’d guessed it right. She had always considered herself a vanilla macaron.
“Mmm…your hair. I want to lose myself in this.” He bunched up her tresses against his face. “You’d better leave now before I decide to keep you here against your will.”
Sounded rather adventurous, actually.
But Verity declined her lusty imagination. With a nod, she turned to give him a quick kiss. “Thanks for a lovely evening.”
He stroked her neck over the vampire bite. “This should be gone by tomorrow, yes?”
“We witches take a little longer than most paranormals to heal. Give it a few more days.”
“Sure. That’ll give me an excuse to see you again. To make sure you’re looking as good as new. Bonsoir.”
Closing the door behind her, she exhaled and shook her head. Damned vampire bite. Did it bother him? Surely, as a hunter, he wouldn’t like to look at anything left behind by a vampire. She’d have to practice her cover-up skills with makeup before she next saw him.
Date number two couldn’t arrive fast enough.
* * *
Rook caught his hands on the back of the kitchen chair and listened until he could no longer hear Verity’s heels tapping away down the outer hall. They’d been so close to stripping away clothing. He certainly wouldn’t have stopped it. When the hell had he been such an animal around a woman?
Besides always? He did have a tendency to take and then push them aside, never to see them again. Easier that way. When a man lived this long he couldn’t dream to have real, lasting relationships. Such a connection would only result in heartbreak. He’d been there and done that enough times to have learned his lesson.
Verity had bewitched him; that was it. Because he couldn’t imagine not touching or kissing her. He wanted to put his hands on her. Constantly.
Are you forgetting why you need her?
“No,” he muttered to Oz.
She can help you find your soul. End of story.
“Why can’t it be the beginning? I like her, Oz.”
She will muddle everything if you do not treat this as a business arrangement.
Could be true. Oz was the wiser of the two of them. If Rook became further involved with Verity, his brain would certainly not be en pointe and he could not expect to have the focus required to hunt Slater and find the bald vamp who might have his soul.
It was all tied together in some way. Zmaj, Slater and the vampire who had stolen his soul from Verity.
Ah, but he hadn’t felt this way about a woman in a long time. A little muddling was all right, wasn’t it?
Rook, you are not thinking straight.
“No, I’m not,” he whispered. And the smile that followed spread up to his eyes and into his heart.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_fb375fa0-ba15-509b-a645-6711819a10e1)
Verity slipped her feet into thigh-high black suede boots. A fitted blue sweater dress stopped above the boots. With winter, she’d have to switch to longer skirts, but she was holding out with the shorter, more flirty skirts as long as possible.
Strolling through the house, her thoughts admonished her silly need to take sides yesterday. Because really? By not helping Rook to identify the vampire who had attacked her, she was taking the side of the vampires.
What could it hurt to take a look at a few pictures? Especially if it meant seeing the handsome knight again.
“I’m not a victim,” she said. “And I’ll prove it by doing the right thing.” She touched the cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter. “I should have gotten his number.”
The doorbell rang, startling her from her thoughts. Dashing down the front hallway, she opened the door and, stepping out, walked right into Rook’s arms. He slipped her into his embrace with an ease that didn’t give her time to comprehend that he was also kissing her until her shoulders hit the door frame behind her. And the man’s tongue slid across hers.
He certainly knew how to kiss. Forget “Hello, how do you do?” or even “Bonjour, mademoiselle.” She’d take this silent yet intimate greeting any day. His entire body fit up against hers, feeling the shape of her, speaking his command with the jut of his hip to hold hers against the doorframe.
Verity tucked the toe of her boot around one of his ankles, wanting to draw as much of him against her as possible. His tongue lashed hers. He tasted like espresso, the dark, bitter kind that she’d never dared try—until now. A sigh ended the surprise connection.
“Namaste,” he said.
“Right back at you. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I thought I’d make one more attempt at coercing you to look at mug shots today.”
“Oh, well—”
He put up an admonishing finger. “I have a bribe.”
Verity lifted a brow. A bribe sounded promising. Far be it from her to confess she was just considering helping him.
From behind his back, the man produced a pretty sky-blue box embossed with white lettering.
“Ladurée,” she whispered with glee.
She recognized the signature Bonaparte box; it was filled with eighteen macarons. It was a treat she never indulged in because so many at a time felt too decadent. She dashed her tongue across her lips and reached for the box.
Rook pulled it away. “It’s yours if you accompany me to headquarters and look over some mug shots.”
Wasn’t he a sneak using macarons to coerce her? If she told him she’d had a change of heart, surely she’d spoil his perceived success and the prize would be reneged.
She nodded. “Agreed.”
