“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded and reached both arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling fan.
If he was okay, then why wasn’t he speaking?
“Tommaso? Talk to me.”
He didn’t respond, and I so badly wanted him to. This conversation was more than just words—we were both taking a leap of faith, letting down our guards for just a few hours. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“Please?” I asked.
He pushed the heels of his large hands into his eyes and then made a deep groan. “What you and I have is special, Charlotte. But it’s a connection that will take time to nurture and grow. And not only am I an impatient man, I’m almost out of time. Which is why I’m struggling not to tear off your clothes and fuck you.”
His bold but honest words made me choke on a nonexistent something in my throat. “I’m not sure I see the problem.” About the fucking part, I meant.
He sat up and pummeled me with his intense gaze. “I do. Because it won’t be enough. I’ll have this memory of you and me. And missing what we could have had will turn my prison sentence into torture.”
Goddammit. This couldn’t be our path. I had to get him to see this little spark between us could grow into a flame or a giant bonfire or something really bright and possibly very, very hot, that it might actually heal the horrible pasts that haunted us.
“Ask me,” I demanded.
“Ask you what?”
“Question number three or four—whatever. Make it anything you want.”
“Charlo—”
“No. We had a deal. You help me sleep, and I answer. I’ve rested and you have no right to turn me into some welsher.”
He laughed. “Anything I want?”
I nodded eagerly, hoping one of his questions would help him see that I might be worth fighting for.
“Yes.”
“Okaaay. You asked for it.”
“I did.” I smiled, and his smile faded into a look that could only be described as lust. Pure unfiltered lust.
He reached behind my neck and pulled me to his mouth. I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth of his sensual mouth touching mine, and I had to keep myself from gasping. It was so unlike any kiss I’d ever had. This one felt…felt…fucking awesome! A drink of ice-cold lemonade on a hot summer day awesome. Crème brûlée that was perfectly creamy with a delicate crisp sugar crust awesome. Running on the beach with the wind whipping through your hair awesome. Perfect dress on sale that made you look ten pounds lighter, ten years younger awesome. Only this kiss was way better.
I threw my arms around his neck and poured my heart into it, hoping and praying that he would feel what I felt: We really needed to figure this out. What we had was just too good.
His tongue met mine and the soft heat of its strokes reached down inside me, touching every erotic inch. His breath whooshed out and entered my nostrils, the particles mixing in my lungs and entering my bloodstream. His warm hand gripped my bare shoulder and the heat of his skin absorbed into mine.
I never knew that one kiss could join two people like this. But in an instant, it had. He was now pulsing inside me, living and breathing.
Trying hard not to cry from the emotional tsunami flooding every inch of my body, I pulled back and looked into his espresso-colored eyes, now noticing how they had flecks of turquoise. How strange. I’d never notice that before.
“Please tell me this is all a dream,” I said.
He gave me a strange look. “Why, Charlotte?”
“Because if I find out in the morning that this is real, and it ends, it will be my worst nightmare ever.”
He looked up at the ceiling again. “So close. Yet so, so far.”
What the hell did that mean? “Tommaso? Please tell me what’s going on.” Because this thing between us was powerful. I can’t be imagining it.
“No. Because you can’t help me, Charlotte.”
I laughed bitterly. “How the hell do you know that if you haven’t let me try?”
He looked down at my hand and slid his into mine. “You’re amazing. Completely and utterly amazing.”
I didn’t know about that. I only knew I was feeling a sense of clarity that had escaped me my entire life.
“Ask me another question,” I pushed.
He glanced my way for a moment and smiled. “All right. Why golf?”
“It made me feel safer carrying a weapon at all times, and I didn’t think a loaded gun was a good idea. But holding a nine iron? Hard to misfire a golf club.”
“Why do you need to feel safe at all times?” he asked, quickly catching on to the real issue that plagued me.
I swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to be easy, but if confronting my demonic memories would change our fates, then so be it. “I watched my mother beat a monster—this tall thing covered in black muck with ropes for hair. She beat it to death from that very window.” I nodded toward the window to my right. “Her boyfriend at the time played golf, so she was really into it. I guess a club was the only thing she had handy. But then more came—I couldn’t see how many, but they seemed to pop right out of thin air. And just as they began closing in on her, something came out of the dark and attacked one of them. It was this…thing with glowing orange eyes. They disappeared and haven’t been back since—but they’re always here.” I pointed to my head. “Always.”
Tommaso’s face turned into a mess of turmoil. “Did the monster hurt you, Charlotte?” he asked, his voice so deep and low that I felt like it was vibrating my bones. “Did it?”
I drew a breath. “Yes.”
“What did it do to you?” he sounded angry. Furious, in fact.
“It…it—”
“Tell me, godsdammit!” he yelled. “What did those evil fucking bastards do to you?”
My eyes teared up. I wanted to tell him. I did. But the truth was too ugly. Too horrific. And I couldn’t understand why he was getting so damned angry.
He gripped me hard on my shoulders. “I’m not asking. I’m demanding. You tell me, Charlotte. Or so help me!”
My head jerked up. How dare he?
“Or what?” I barked.
“Don’t push me, Charlotte. Not now. Not after you opened the fucking can. Tell me!” he yelled.
“Or what? You’ll do what they did? You’ll hold me down and cut me and make me scream? You’ll violate my body and kill everything inside me?”
He pulled back his head and stared with horror. “Please tell me that was just another dream. Please, Charlotte.”
This was why I could never get close to a man. Or anyone. Not because I hated or blamed myself, but because I feared the way people might see me. Of course, if I did tell anyone, they’d only think I was insane.
Well, they can go fuck themselves. Because I wasn’t crazy.
“It wasn’t a dream,” I said.
His eyes filled with so much rage, I had to wonder if I’d gone too far. Shared too much. He looked beyond pained. He looked like he wanted to tear the world apart.
“I am truly sorry, Charlotte, for what was done to you.”
“Thank you, but I’m okay.” Or I would be with time.
“I promise that this will never happen again.” He stood.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To settle a few scores.”
“Tommaso?” This made no sense. How would he know who to settle scores with? “What aren’t you telling me?”
He reached down and stroked my cheek, looking into my eyes.
Holy shit! His eyes are turquoise. What in the…?
“Everything,” he said. “I’m not telling you everything. Because I can’t. But just know I will make sure this never happens again.”
He turned and headed for the bedroom door. I sprang from the bed, following him. “Wait!” But he was already down the stairs, almost to the front door. “Tommaso! Please don’t go.”
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, breathing heavily, but then jerk
ed the door open and stepped into the darkness.
I then heard loud grunts and groans of a struggle. “Crap!” He was fighting with that soldier guy on the porch.
I ran down the rest of the stairs and flipped on the porch light, only to find no sign of him and an unconscious man on the ground.
Shit. Shit. Shit. What did I do?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lying in his extra-long, king-sized bed, Zac played a mental game of Pong where on one side of the net was Miss Grovel telling him he should go to Tula’s apartment again—as he’d done yesterday after she’d quit—and beg her to open the door so he could administer the proper groveling. On the other side of the court was Mr. Idon’tgiveashitorneedanyonebecauseI’manawesomegod.
Both players were scoring equal amounts of points, which made his dilemma all the more frustrating. Oh, balls! It was so unlike him to be on the fence. He was a deity. Strong. All-knowing. Deity.
Nevertheless, with Tula, he had no idea what to do. She’d gotten under his skin in a significant way, and the thought of her leaving him—I mean, our agency—upset him. Worse yet? It pissed him off that she thought so little of him. Damned human! How dare she make me care about her opinion! What sort of womanly witchery was this? Huh?
He looked at his cell phone on his very manly stainless steel nightstand—Godsdammit!—and grabbed the thing. Yes, it was three thirty in the morning, but he would call her and set her straight. She had to come back to work. She had to stop making his life so difficult. Yes, that was what he would do! He would demand—as a god was entitled to do—that she stop making him feel all…miffed.
And squishy inside.
Above all, she had to cease making him care. How could he be expected to do his job and match couples, in order to end his banishment, if he was too busy worrying what one little lowly human female thought?
The nerve of her!
As Zac spewed his mental stream, phone in hand, it started to ring. He looked at the caller ID. Ugh. Votan. The God of Whininess.
“What?” Zac answered.
“Nice to speak to you, too, brother. Did I interrupt your nightly jerk-off marathon?”
“I wasn’t jerking off, you jerk-off.” He wasn’t in the mood for that tonight.
“Well, I know how lonely you get since you’re unable to keep a woman for more than five seconds—the approximate amount of time it takes for them to discover your pre-ejaculation issue.”
What? Asshat. If fucking a woman for five hours straight and giving her ten or more orgasms in a row was considered an “early arrival,” then so be it.
“Well,” Zac said, “since I’m not a needy little bastard like you, and prefer to stay single, I’ll be putting you at the top of my list when my switch flips to evil. I’m thinking I’ll hog-tie you and throw you into a volcano. Twenty or thirty times.”
Guy made an exaggerated sigh. “It’s so cute when you have hopes and dreams and believe you’ve got a chance in hell of achieving them. Kind of like with Tula; I hear she won’t even spit in your direction.”
Okay! He crossed the line. Note to awesome deity self: smite Votan at earliest possible convenience. “What do you want, Votan?”
“Guy. My name is Guy, asshole.”
“Okay, Guy Asshole. What do you want?”
“Shut your stink hole. We’ve got a situation with Tommaso. He took down my guard Brutus and ran off. I’m in pursuit, but his car disappeared once we got onto the highway. He was heading your way, back to L.A.”
I knew this would happen. Why do they never listen? The gods had held an emergency conference call late last evening to discuss Tommaso’s conditional parole situation. The original deal being that as long as Tommaso remained in control and wasn’t a threat to anyone, Tommaso would remain free so he could track down his mate. He apparently found her, thanks to Cimil, but hadn’t made an instant connection with this woman, Charlotte. Probably because she was Andrus’s intended mate. Only Andrus had fallen in love with Sadie, Charlotte’s cousin. The two women even looked alike. It was all very strange. However, if Andrus could hit the reset button and choose his own mate, then why couldn’t Tommaso? Stranger things are happening in the Universe.
In any case, Tommaso had engaged with Charlotte at a small wine-tasting event last evening, but she did not appear to have any interest, which meant his transformation would not be halting. Then, according to the Uchben surveillance team, they witnessed Tommaso wandering off last night at the resort and plugging up quite a few holes on the golf course. With raw meat. Then he’d put shampoo in the resort’s fountain and coated the steering wheels of all of the golf carts with strawberry lube.
Hehehe. Where did that man get so much lube? Zac would have to ask.
Anyway, Votan—I mean Guy Asshole—had called a meeting via telephone late last night after following Tommaso around and witnessing his behavior, to plead with everyone to give the demigod another day to save himself. It ended up being a debate that lasted until morning with Guy putting his foot down. “I am the God of Fucking Death and War, and Tommaso is my responsibility. And as such, I am accepting full responsibility and standing behind my commitment to endure any fate that may be handed down to him.”
The point was, Guy had really stuck his neck out to help the one man who made him feel threatened—the only other man Guy’s wife cared for.
Crazy. Because everyone knew that Guy only did it for Emma, his wife. He must love her a whole hell of a lot.
But now, Tommaso had spent the entire day with Charlotte and had not shown signs of reverting back to normal—eyes were still black.
The leeway had expired. Tommaso had to be brought in before he truly hurt someone.
“So you want me to do what, exactly?” Zac asked Guy.
“I need you to call Andrus. He’s the likeliest person Tommaso will run to for help.”
Idiot. “Yeah, but Tommaso will know that we know that. And he wouldn’t dare drag his friend into this.” Zac might be an insensitive prick, but he knew enough to deduce that Tommaso was a guy with a very decent soul. Poor bastard can’t help what’s happening to him.
What! Who the fuck are you, man? Zac never felt sorry for people. Sympathy was for pussies. Zac punched himself in the face and cried out. Damn, that hurt.
“Zac? Are you tugging too hard? Remember, it’s the only dick you’ve got unless you’re counting your entire self.” Guy chuckled.
“Fuck off, you wanker.”
“No. You’re the wanker. They should make a spinoff of that Naked and Afraid show, dedicated specifically to you. They’d call it Naked and Alone Again.” Guy burst out laughing.
“Well, at least if I were married, I wouldn’t allow my wife to pussy-whip me to death and make me run around saving her lover. What a moron.”
“Tommaso is not her lover; they are friends,” Guy growled.
Zac felt the surge of delicious satisfaction. He’d most definitely won this pissing match. Only five hundred billion more to go! That corresponded to the amount of time it would take for the Universe to end, by his own calculations.
“As always, it’s been a pleasure, brother,” Zac said, feeling Guy’s anger radiate through the galaxy. “I will be sure to reach out to Andrus and warn him not to assist Tommaso should he come calling.”
“Thank you. Have a good evening.”
“I love you, too.” Zac was just about to hang up, but Guy began ranting about how he did not love him. “Oh, but you do. Because I’m an awesome deity. You cannot help but worship—” Zac’s phone had another call coming in. Tula! “Gotta go.” He switched over to the incoming call. “Well, hello there, Tula. Come to grovel for your job back?”
“Mr. Zac, I think I messed up.” Her voice sounded frantic.
“Now, now. I know you miss me, but—”
Tula broke in, “That Tommaso man called the agency’s emergency hotline, sounding all upset and telling me it was a matter of life and death.”
Uh-oh. “What did you do?” br />
“I gave him money. All of my cash for tuition.”
“What? Why would you do that?” Zac scolded.
“Because he sounded so desperate, and he needed help.”
Of course she would do that. She was too kind not to help others, even when she shouldn’t. He’d have to work on that with her.
“Do you have any idea where he went?” he asked.
“No, sir. He said he didn’t want to be tracked. That he was going to die and take them sons of bitches down with him.”
Zac pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great. Just great.”
“Zac?”
“Yesss,” he groaned.
“I’m sorry. I mean about earlier.” Her voice was filled with a tenderness that made his heart ache.
“I’m sorry, too, Tula. Will you come back to work?” He thought that asking her the question might hurt his ego, but it didn’t. It gave him a strange sort of satisfaction to let her know that he missed her.
“Yes, Mr. Zac. I will.”
“Will you come naked?” Didn’t hurt to ask.
“What? No! Goodnight, you giant…you giant god of pigs.”
“See you bright and early.” He grinned.
“See you bright and early.”
The call ended and Zac felt absolutely glowy and gushy. Damned human. He smiled again. He so liked her.
He then quickly remembered Tommaso. Crap. He called Andrus and hoped the damned man would answer.
And for once, listen to me!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My moment of hysterics was silenced by a loud knock at the front door. Tommaso was gone. Just…gone. And though I had no clue where he went or what making sure this “never happened again” really meant, I knew the situation was bad. Worse, there was no one for me to call. Nobody to ask for help.
I stumbled to the door and checked the peephole. Please be Tommaso. Please be Tommaso. Please…I don’t believe it.
I jerked open the door. “Andrus?”
“Charlotte.” He dipped his head of spiky black hair as I looked him over. His black leather pants looked like the centerpiece to a bouquet of weapons—multiple daggers, machetes, and other stuff—fixed to his waistband. He looks like some giant deadly charm bracelet.