She’s losing her patience with my questioning. Although she maintains that same air of calmness, I can smell her frustration mounting from over here.
That’s not the only thing I smell.
Everything about her makes my fucking mouth water.
“We don’t turn everyone into werewolves. Some are changed into vampires—”
“What the fuck, man?” I resist the urge to jump to my feet and run far, far away from this mindfuck. “Vampires are real, too?”
Now she’s amused by me. She tries to hide her burgeoning smirk, but it’s pointless. “Consider yourself lucky we didn’t turn you into a ghoul.”
Is she trying to break my mind or is she for real? “Jesus.” I cup my face with my hands and do the most pointless thing of all: I pray to wake up from this nightmare. To return to my simple life.
But then she wouldn’t be here.
I can’t be this pathetic. Impossible.
My temper flares in another round of internal chaos. “That doesn’t fucking explain why I was turned into a werewolf.”
Ignoring my outburst, she stares out the window, and the sunlight glints off the golden Hamsa pendant between her breasts.
That symbol was actually in one of the books I stole, a guide to spirituality.
It’s a Middle Eastern amulet that stands for protection.
“You were turned into a werewolf because it was most convenient. We simply reached into your DNA and played with it.”
And “played” with it.
I slide to the edge of my seat. The only thing that keeps me on this chair is the glare she aims at me; I lean close to her regardless and point right at her face. “It’s not right.”
She pushes her tongue into her cheek, detached and disgusted in equal measures. “Neither is defending rich, sexual offenders, but you had no problem doing that, did you?”
My mouth snaps shut.
“There’s an evil in you, LeBlanc. It’s always been in you. And I know that evil thirsts. It hungers.” Her ringed fingers glide along the armrests, then slide down to trace the tattooed lines on the tops of her thighs; a move she’s aware will distract the fuck out of me. “You’d love nothing more than to cause some havoc before I lead you to your grave. Stop denying it.”
I’m entranced with her skin, those markings, her thin, elegant fingers and the movements they’re making, but I’m shaking my head, rejecting her statement.
She’s out of her seat in a flash, on her fucking knees in front of me, that beautiful face and eyes inches from my own. “You enjoyed it,” she whispers. “You ripped them to shreds with your beastly teeth, choked on their blood, gorged on their screams, and you. Enjoyed. It.”
I would’ve dragged her to me and eaten her mouth had she never uttered such a heinous thing. “N-no. How could I enjoy something I don’t even remember doing?” Awful, cruel flashes are what’s left of that night in the recesses of my memory. A gift I’m beyond grateful for.
Remembering everything in full detail would destroy me. I’m sure of it.
“There’s an evil in you, LeBlanc.”
Or maybe she’s right and I’d be utterly fine with what I did.
She slams her hands into the seat on either side of my hips, leans in, sharing air with me, and smirks. “You . . . enjoyed . . . it.”
I growl at her audacity. That’s it. I know one way to shut that infuriating mouth up.
She’s gone—a wind I’ll never truly catch, will I?—hips swaying as she walks to the wall of bookcases on the left. Touching the books in that same way she touches everything, studying, learning from the surfaces, she continues, “They somehow found a way to block me from entering my coven.”
I’m seriously considering the merits of asking her to get on over here and learn my dick like that. Although she infuriates me. Although she can’t stand me and wants to see me dead at her hands. “Why did they betray you when you must be the most powerful one in the coven?”
A surprised glance over her shoulder, followed by an involuntary twitch of her lips. She faces away from me, hiding it, but it’s too late. I caught it. “You said it. I’ve become the most powerful. They’ve been on edge since my change.”
“Your change?” I don’t know why I think she’ll actually answer that question.
“They finally grew a fucking pair and decided to try ending me.”
“They send you to kill me and try to finish you off while at it.” And I have a feeling they would’ve succeeded, too, had I not been quick enough to get us both out of there.
A flaming goddess she may be—literally—but I don’t think even she could survive an entire building being brought down around her.
Could she?
“Yes. Exactly.” Bored with her inspection of my books, she turns and leans against the bookcase. When she crosses her arms, the dark gray cuff around her bicep tightens.
“That’s dirty of them.”
“Beaucoup crasseux,” she agrees. Very dirty.
I ignore how hearing her speak in flawless French revs up every part of my body. “Still confused on the whole ‘needing me to help’ part.”
“Your strength is already physically greater than mine. Magically, you stand no chance against me—”
“I’m immune to your flames.”
She spins her fingers. The frame on top of the fireplace flies like a frisbee toward the wall above the entryway.
Did I say frisbee? Sorry, I meant bullet. It shatters with such force that the remaining flecks shoot back in our direction.
I glare at her yet again as what seems like snow falls between us. “Do you have any idea how much that cost?”
Her shit-eating grin would be endearing if she wasn’t turning out to be such a pain. “Why do you think I broke it?”
Lord give me patience.
And the fortitude to control my sexual impulses around this woman. She makes me want to dominate her in ways that aren’t healthy for either one of us. Fuck the attitude right out of her. “I’m sure you can kill your ex-coven on your own.”
“You’re right about that, but using you against them is much more satisfying. Seril will lose her shit when she realizes I’m gaining a profit off ‘her’ customer.”
“You mentioned this Seril before. Who is she?”
“The one you sold your soul to.”
“That old hag?” I cry, repulsed by the memory of her alone.
“Old hag?” She laughs. “Is that what she appeared to you as?”
So . . . that wasn’t Seril’s true form? “She looks different?”
“Man, she must’ve seen some fucked up shit in your soul to hit you with that one.”
I’m taken back to that night—that toothless grin stretching across her ancient face. “That’s not fucking funny.”
But she’s laughing to herself, teeth perfect and white against her complexion. The joy on her face is almost pure, damn her. “Yes it is.”
“She scared the hell out of me!”
“Which was the point.”
“And that creepy entourage—one had a bird on his hat—”
That stops her laughter. “They weren’t her entourage. They’re The Bestowers, and they’re the main ones we’re after.”