I opened the door and breathed deeply. Rand’s scent lured me inside, heating my body with that particular spicy male aroma. It was a masculine room, with dark cherry wood paneling, oversized and deep brown furniture, and an enormous bookshelf. I’d never been in Rand’s room before and being here now, by myself, almost made me giddy with the inclination to snoop.
A bottle of wine sat on the side table next to the largest bed I’d ever seen. Cal King Schmal King. This thing had to have been custom ordered. Images of him in bed and drinking wine with the woman in London coursed through my head, and I braced myself against the mantle, thinking I might pass out. When the dizziness subsided, I decided to help myself to the bottle and took a generous swig. Then I turned to the task of finding something I could wear to bed.
Rand’s closet was full of clothes, all organized according to color. Figured he’d be the OCD type. I found a white T-shirt and couldn’t help bringing it to my nose as I inhaled the scent so completely Rand—a scent of laundry detergent with notes of his cologne. God, I made myself want to vomit.
I thought you were coming back?
I looked up and found Pelham on Rand’s bed, facing me. Of course, he wasn’t going to miss the chance to see me in the buff. I didn’t have anything to wear to bed, so I wanted to borrow a shirt from Rand.
Ah, I see, well go ahead, put it on.
I pulled off my shirt, draping it over the side of one of Rand’s plush bedroom chairs. Pelham’s eyes were glued to my every move and in my drunkenness; it actually made me feel good, attractive. I slid off my pants, laid them atop my blouse, then undid my bra, and watched as a smile lit the corners of his mouth.
Very nice.
Then I pulled Rand’s shirt over my head and Pelham frowned. What about the knickers?
Those aren’t coming off. Now go away and leave me alone.
With his lips pulled taut, he faded away and I shut the door, so he’d know I didn’t welcome his return. I wanted some time to myself to snoop around Rand’s room and to finish the rest of the wine.
There were pictures of Rand with various people all over his room and finding one, I picked it up, inspecting it. This one was Rand in what looked like the Alps—snowy and steep mountains. Rand was dressed in blue snow gear, his ski-mask perched atop his head, throwing his hair in disarray. He smiled broadly, his dimples in attendance and accounted for. A young man stood next to him, but I had no interest in him.
I took the photo with me to his gigantic bed and climbed in the middle as I grabbed the bottle of wine and downed a few swallows. I sank into the bed, the mattress as warm and welcoming as a hug. It felt as if I were in a cloud of feathers—feather mattress, feather duvet with feather pillows. Thank God I wasn’t allergic to ducks.
I downed the remnants of the wine and put the empty bottle on his bed stand as my attention returned to the photo in my hand. Rand was the best-looking man I’d ever seen. I leaned against the headboard and tucked the picture up against me, imagining how nice it would be to be in bed with Rand this very moment.
#
“Jolie, wake up.”
The voice was distant and the pounding in my head forced me to ignore it, so I could return to the solitude of my dreams. I’d felt the warm sun through my eyelids for a while now, but I just couldn’t bring myself to wake up and face the steady ache in my head.
“Jolie,” the voice persisted and I groaned out my discomfort, pulling the covers up higher.
The covers pulled themselves back and I stirred from the cold air that whispered over my legs. I opened my eyes. The dark paneling, dark green paint on the walls was unfamiliar. There was an empty bottle of wine in front of me and something sharp jutting into my chin. Before I had a chance to register what it was, Rand leaned down and pulled his photo from my arms. My head ached too much for me to feel any sort of embarrassment. He replaced the photo on his mantel over the fireplace before facing me with an inquisitive grin.
“What are you doing in my bed?” he asked, returning.
I sat up and regretted it as my head throbbed with the effort. His shirt twisted up above my waist, and I jerked it back down over my legs, so as not to appear entirely indecent. At least I had panties on, otherwise I would’ve given Rand quite a show. I wiped the corner of my mouth after noting it was wet and then realized I’d drooled all over his pillow.
Nice going, Jolie, really nice.
“Um, I don’t know why I’m in your bedroom,” I said with a sheepish smile.
He didn’t look angry, maybe more amused than anything else. He sat down next to me. “I must say the last thing I thought I’d find is you half-naked in my bed.”
“I came over to see Christa last night, and we drank your wine and talked about my break up with…”
“You broke up with the wolf?” Rand interrupted, his face growing serious.
I grabbed my head, willing it to stop aching. “I think it’s more fitting to say the wolf broke up with me.”
Rand nodded. “Are you alright?”
“I’ll survive. I didn’t have anything to sleep in, so I came in here to borrow a shirt, then he rest of your wine and…fell asleep in your bed. Sorry.”
“And drooled all over my pillow.” He laughed. “No need to apologize. It appears you have quite a hangover.”
I nodded. “Yeah, a nasty one.”
He motioned for me to put my head in his lap and when I did so, he laid his hand atop it and set on removing my headache. I set on removing my morning breath by picturing a drop of mint spreading on my tongue. I swallowed a couple of times, tasting wintergreen.
“Rand, why are you so good to me?” I asked him, still drunk enough to raise the question.
He chuckled. “I have to ask myself that over and over.”
His hand on my forehead felt heavy, warm, and soft. I smiled as I studied his incredibly handsome face above me. “Even from this angle, you’re still damned hot.”
Rand shook his head, a smirk playing with his lips. “Well, from this angle you’re pretty damned hot yourself.”
Using my drunkenness as an alibi, I decided to ask him the question I’d always wondered. “Rand, do you use magic to…look the way you do?”
His chuckle rang through the air loud and clear. “Bloody hell, I can’t believe you’re asking me that. No!”
I smiled and squirmed in his lap. “You told me a long time ago that all witches are very attracted to one another.”
His smile fell, and he was back to looking serious. Slowly, his fingers slipped through my hair, teasing the strands. “Yes, but what I feel for you goes beyond that, Jolie.”
Heat stirred in the pit of my belly and it took me a second to realize what he’d just admitted. Maybe I needed to get drunk and sleep in his bed more often. “I feel it for you also. I always have.”
He nodded, as if weighing the thought. “I think it’s best we don’t act on it. It just confuses things.”
I resisted the urge to scream and forced the tears away. I would not cry, but at the same time, I had to know why. “Why?”
“In light of recent events, I think it best we keep our distance and make our relationship business,” he finished.
“What recent events?” I wondered if he meant Trent’s and my relationship? That was so yesterday.
He shook his head. “We just can’t.”
I sat up, but he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. He always gave the same lame-as-hell answer. I wondered if he’d ever give in to his feelings, ever allow himself to care for me the way he wanted to—the way I wanted him to. Then the thought dawned on me that maybe he was in a relationship. I couldn’t bring myself to broach that subject, afraid of how my stomach might react.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” I stood up and braced myself against his bed as my stomach heaved, and I thought I’ be sick. “I drank too much wine.”
He stood and placed his hand on my belly. My stomach muscles quivered, heat spreading from his palm as it curled through my stom
ach and up my body. The feelings of sickness faded into obscurity. I couldn’t help it as my arms went around him and I hugged him, needing to feel close to him. He hesitated for a moment and then returned the embrace, kissing the top of my head.
He sat down again and motioned for me to put my head back in his lap. I’m not sure why I did—maybe I was just too tired and hung over to protest.
“I was in London meeting with one of the largest of the wolf packs,” he started. “There are more and more wolves migrating to England as Bella pushes them out of the States.”
“So, what Trent said was true. They’re all seeking refuge with you,” I said as I thought about what this meant. Bella was making fast headway in deciding who was with her and who was against her. It’d only be a matter of time before she came for me. I was the winning lottery ticket in her pocket and sooner or later she’d come for her winnings.
“Yes, I’ve been deciding how we build a team of forces ourselves,” he finished.
“You mean do what Bella’s doing?”
“She hasn’t given us a blasted choice. She’s building an army and her plans are to force us to join her or kill us. And I, for one, will not go down without a fight,” Rand finished as he ran his fingers through my hair, catching them in a knot. He then went about loosening the knot, and I closed my eyes, loving the feel of his gentle hands.
“So, what was in London?” I asked, only too aware the answer was a woman. I could’ve slapped myself for asking.
“A friend of mine, Gwynn, she is an old and powerful witch, and she just happens to be half vampire.”
And she also just happens to be having sex with you, I thought to myself. I disliked her already. “What will she do for us?”
“Her coven controls Ireland and she has an ally in the warlock who controls Scandinavia, so we have those areas covered. Since she is part vampire, she has a special relationship with the vampires and many have joined her already.”
Rand worked the knot loose and began separating my hair into sections, as if to braid it.
“So, she will be our liaison to the European witches and warlocks?”
“Yes and with all the newly arrived werewolves in England, I’m going to make the mandate they either join us or move on. We have to take the stance that if they aren’t with us, they’re against us.”
“This is really happening,” I muttered, feeling sick all over again.
“Yes it is, and we have to be ready for it. I’ve called a meeting in a week’s time and all the witches from Europe will be joining us as well as the leaders of the werewolf packs and some prominent vampires. We need to begin recruiting against Bella’s army. I want to show themed have a weapon that Bella doesn’t.”
I felt the weight of his words and sighed. It seemed the entire universe was counting on me. I wasn’t much of a hero. “I don’t know how good of a weapon I am, but I’m happy to be there for you.”
Apparently, he wasn’t good at braiding as he gave up and ran his fingers through my hair again. “And just so you know, Trent will be there.”
Great, so I’d have to see the wolf that dumped me as pretty as you please and as an added bonus, I’d get to meet the witch who was warming Rand’s bed.
Lucky me!
FIFTEEN
Upon visiting London, I decided I didn’t like it. Sure, it was beautiful and had the best stores I’d ever seen in my life and the Tower of London was all fine and good. But everywhere I turned, something reminded me of the woman who lived here—the woman who’d somehow managed to capture Rand’s interest.
The woman who wasn’t me.
I couldn’t keep the frown from stealing my lips as I looked out the window of Rand’s Range Rover. We were on our way to meet said woman. Had I the option to A. meet Rand’s current flame or B. chew off my own toe, option B was sounding pretty good.
Christa was in much better spirits. Even though she was going to miss John while we were on this trip, she was overly excited about sightseeing, like a kid at Disneyland excited. I could think of nothing worse than going on a tourist trip of London.
“Madame Tussaud’s is supposed to be an excellent wax museum,” Christa said as she eyed some obnoxious brochure she’d picked up in the city. “Do you think we’ll have time to see it, Rand?”
Rand seemed as disinterested in seeing wax figures as I did. He smiled and feigned ignorance, keeping his eyes on the road like a good driver. “Ask Jolie if she wants to go.”
I frowned, but tried to keep my aggravation in check. “Let’s see how much time we have.”
We were on a tight schedule and hopefully that would be my alibi. Rand had said we’d be in London for the weekend—for our grand meeting with the creatures who might team up with us against the evil legacy that was Bella. I wanted to get our meeting over and done with so I could get back to the safety of my little house. There no one would bug me and I could drown away thoughts of Rand and Trent with some good ale.
We arrived in front of an ornate townhouse in what I learned was the most expensive area of London, Kensington Square. So, not only did the stupid woman have claim to Rand’s heart, but she was rich on top of it.
When it rains, it pours.
Rand parked in front of the the-story, white Victorian mansion and faced me expectantly. “We’re here.”
I managed a smile and undid my seatbelt in record-breaking time, record-breaking slow time. Christa, on the other hand, hopped out of the car, alight with non-stop chatter and buzzed around me like an insistent mosquito.
“Are we going to dinner?” I asked with a frown.
Rand shook his head. “Gwynn said she had something prepared.”
Oh, even better. Now I’d have to suffer through the flirting, the lustful eyes and all in the less-than-humble abode where the Gwynn-Rand seduction was taking place.
Vo-mit.
I followed Rand and Christa up the numerous steps. He knocked on the door, and I could hear the soft pitter-patter of heels on hardwood from inside. Then she opened the door.
That was when I realized Christa hadn’t been forthcoming in her description of the witch; Gwynn was beautiful. She was taller than I was and thinner and that was as far as I’d let myself make a comparison.
“Rand!” Gwynn said with an Eastern-European accent. She engulfed him in a hug and kissed both of his cheeks. He responded in kind.
“Gwynn, this is Christa,” Rand said, introducing Christa first as I was lollygagging behind them. He took hold of my shoulder and encouraged me forward.
“And this is Jolie.” There was a certain note of pride that accompanied his voice… I think.
“Charmed,” Gwynn said with a smile and opened the door wide, granting us entrance. I smiled as best I could and took in her long platinum blonde hair, wide hazel eyes, Nicole Kidman nose and instantly was depressed again.
She led us to her dining room and en route, I noticed the ridiculously high ceilings, the ornate crown molding, the priceless art and sculptures (I imagined they were priceless, but I’m not an art connoisseur, so what do I know) and the heavy velvet of the curtains.
Taking my seat at the expansive dining table, Christa took the one next to me. Gwynn, of course, sat next to Rand, and I had to unclench my teeth, lest I appear to have lockjaw. Like something out of a movie, Gwynn picked up a small silver bell and rang twice. No sooner did she put the bell back on the table than a flurry of servants entered the room and began filling glasses, offering hors d’oeuvres and generally making themselves useful.
My attention returned to Gwynn and Rand. Thank God, they displayed no sort of affection with one another in front of us; that would’ve been enough for me to lose my lunch. They were very matter-of-fact, instead, and one would never have known they had any sort of romantic affiliation.
“How many people will be there tomorrow night?” Christa asked.
Rand shrugged and glanced at Gwynn. “I believe the count is one hundred fifty?”
Gwynn nodded. “Not bad, b
ut we’ll need to expand our numbers if we’re to go up against Bella. One thing we can promise those who do join is that we can bring back their fallen compatriots.”
It took me a second for this to sink in, and then it dawned on me: who’d be the person bringing back the fallen? “So, that’s where I come in?” I asked, sounding less than enthusiastic.
“You’re our secret weapon, Jolie,” Rand said.
I frowned, thinking they had a better chance with a gun, some silver bullets, a cross and maybe Van Helsing. “That sounds like a huge number of creatures to bring back. Do you think I’m capable of that?” I asked, clearly thinking “no” was the answer.
“It will be very time consuming, but it’s imperative you do this,” Gwynn answered, and her tone was one a parent would use with a child. My hands curled in my lap as if they were so affronted by the tone they couldn’t help but wither in disgust.
“Where do I sign up?” I asked with a facetious smirk.
Gwynn ignored me and cemented the fact that neither of us cared for the other. I could see it clearly in her ash hazel eyes. I only wondered if she could see my feelings for Rand as clearly in mine.
She turned to Rand and plastered a smile on her lips. “I’m pleased you’ll have the opportunity to meet Ryder, finally.”
“I’ve heard much of him and look forward to it.”
Christa wore her confusion. “Ryder?”
Rand nodded. "Ryder is a vampire. He’s Gwynn’s creator.”
“There is a very special relationship between a vampire and his brethren. The bond is a strong one,” Gwynn explained although no one had asked her.
“Oh,” Christa said, nodding as if she had a clue as to what Gwynn was talking about. I had to hide my smile.
“Ryder has decided to throw in his lot with us,” Rand continued before facing Gwynn again. “I look forward to finally meeting him.”
Gwynn just batted her cow eyelashes at him. Rand’s mouth quirked into a grin—one that seemed aimed at Gwynn alone.