Chapter 26
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
My brow wrinkles as I come awake, my mind thick and sluggish before clarity dawns, and I realize that I’m not in my bed.
I’m in Frank’s.
Heart skipping as it picks up speed, I peek my gaze open to find Frank’s room completely dark while images of everything that transpired in this bed earlier race through my brain.
I remember being exhausted, my body limp and depleted, and fighting sleep all while Frank pestered me to drink a glass of water, forcing me to drink the entire glass before letting me collapse onto his pillows.
It takes me a moment to get my bearings. I turn my head to find his gaze closed; his expression softened in sleep.
Shit.
What time is it?
I yawn, my mouth stretching wide before relaxing, drowsiness threatening to pull me under, and I glance around, my gaze snagging on the massive arm lying across my stomach as feelings of warmth and security wash over me.
The warm cocoon I’m in makes it hard to stay awake as I am swaddled in between Frank’s embrace and soft blankets.
What the hell am I doing?
I’ve got to get out of here.
I make it a point to never stay overnight anywhere; it saves me a lot of headaches. No awkward goodbyes, no attempts or dates that aren’t going to go anywhere, and no drama. Just sex and no commitment.
Frank sighs, his dirty blonde brows deep slashes on his rugged face, his usually sullen and flat mouth smooth and at rest, and I can’t help noticing how very handsome he is.
I ease up and turn my torso to get out of the bed to not wake him, reaching one foot out and scooting myself across the bed, making sure to not adjust the covers.
Much like Cinderella, this was only for a night. It’s time to make my getaway.
The memory of what happened the last time I stayed overnight in a man’s bed comes to mind, and the promise I made myself so many years ago.
I glance back at Frank, wishing things could be different as a wave of possessiveness flows through me. I don’t want to leave. But I can’t stay.
My emotions are a jumble, and a heaviness locks in my chest as I withhold a sigh and rise to slip from the bed.
I curse the tall as fuck bed as I practically fall out of it getting to my feet.
Tiptoeing across the thick carpet, I grab up my glasses from the nightstand and start putting my clothes back on as I make my way to Frank’s door.
Holding my breath, I twist the doorknob, thankful when it makes no sound, and enter the hallway to head back to my room.
Every move I make reminds me of the night before, and the many pretzels I was put into as soreness lines my muscles, but after a few steps I relax and let my shoulders drop, trying to walk normally.
“Where are you going?” Frank calls out behind me.
My shoulders stiffen as my face scrunches momentarily into a wince. Fuck.
I stretch a smile across my lips as I turn around on the balls of my feet, embarrassment at getting caught ricocheting through me.
“Oh, hey, big guy. I’m so sorry if I woke you. I’m just heading to my room to shower,” I tell him, shivers dancing across my skin at how his gaze blazes orange, lighting up the dark hallway.
“I had a really good time last night,” I tell him, feeling more than awkward when he just stares.
Finally, he moves, taking a step toward me, and I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay still as he makes his way down the hallway to me.
I shiver in place at just how damn big he is as he eclipses me, lumbering over me like a giant.
“It's 3 a.m.,” he says, his voice like gravel.
“Oh good. Maybe I’ll have time for some sleep after a shower then and check on Edgar,” I say. My stomach flip flops, and I fight to keep from wriggling in place as his stare hardens and his lips turn to grim lines.
“I fed him while you were sleeping,” Frank says, and my stomach plummets.
“Umm, thank you. It was an absolute blast, and I’ll see you later, okay?” I say, diving inside my room and shutting the door before I make a fool of myself and beg him to take me back to his bed.
My heart beats like it’s about to evacuate my chest, and my gaze lands on Edgar Allan Paw lying at the end of my bed, flicking his tail.
A frown pulls across my face when I reach to pet his soft coat, noticing how he looks freshly pampered. Purrs erupt from his chest as I rub his belly, and it dawns on me he’s so soft because Frank brushed him.
I groan, and my palm hits my face.
He fed and brushed my cat. He even made me drink a glass of water before letting me pass out last night, after delivering more orgasms than I can count, especially with how they started to run together one after the other near the end.
Frank Stein is shaping up to be someone I could very easily fall for, and isn't that just the scariest thing in the world?
It could be Stockholm syndrome, or the best cock I've ever had in my life, but one thing’s for certain: there's something wrong if I'm thinking my best friend's kidnapper might just be the perfect boyfriend material.
FRANK N. STEIN
My fingers twitch as I pace the smooth stone floor of my underground retreat, trying to rein in my temper before I inadvertently start another weather storm outside.
The soft swish of my jeans reverberates through the cavernous room with each step I take across the cold surface, my muscles bunching in repressed rage as I take a firmer grip on my power.
She treated me as if I’m some fool warming her bed for her pleasure alone.
I’ve been rejected by a human.
Dismissed.
It rankles how all I can think about is her soft sweet flesh, her curves, her moans and cries, a mantra in my brain that won’t stop no matter what I do.
My need for her is as relentless as it is confusing.
What’s worse is, I saw the bond between us.
I know that it is solidified, but I can’t sense her emotions.
Anna has been dead and gone so long I can hardly force myself to bring her image to mind, our mate bond nothing like this, but I can recall the ability to sense how she was feeling instantly.
I was attracted to her intelligence and had much admiration for her, but it pales in comparison to my ties to Bernadette like a drop of rain in the ocean.
Bernadette’s touch seems to reach into the very soul of my being, stirring something within me I didn’t realize existed.
Fate apparently can’t seem to cease fucking with me, and I’m considering this situation being the universe’s ultimate pay back. Most likely from the amount of time I’ve professed to never interact with humans again.
The fact that this uncouth, criminal, diminutive redhead of a woman has unmanned me this much is the height of irony.
I glance around the sparse room, wishing I’d have had the forethought to put in a bedroom down stairs, but who could’ve predicted my predicament.
Last night, or the last few hours I should say, have been by far the most astounding in my long existence.
Never have I felt such a magical force intertwining my very being with another’s, it was as if she were a conduit.
At one point, I’m almost positive I saw an orange spark light up in her gaze before I forced her to her front where she couldn’t look upon my face.
The issue is that the Bernadette I know would have been pelting me with questions one after the other so fast I couldn’t answer them all, quite unlike the woman who tiptoed from my bedroom earlier. Now here I sit with nary a clue as to how to proceed.
Most supernatural beings go into matehood understanding that there is a period afterward where mates are drawn to each other and typically don’t leave the bed sometimes for days. Bernadette couldn’t wait to make her escape from me, and that’s what pisses me off more than anything else.
The overhead lights above the charging pod begin to flicker irregularly as my rage increases.
A frown creases my brow as I gaze at the charging pod chamber. The lights aren’t prone to flickering like this, which means my power is behaving more erratically than I thought possible.
After several moments of no change, I decide to give Jekyll a call. He has to know something that can at least help, or have some concoction made to subdue the side effects from the mate bond.
I grab my phone from my pocket, cursing how the simple touch of my finger causes it to charge rapidly, a heavy sigh rattling from my chest.
Things are getting out of hand.
I settle onto the floor, putting my bare back to the cool concrete wall as I call the mad scientist.
Jekyll answers on the first ring, and my brow wrinkles as I stare down at the cellphone while getting a full visual of his nose and one eye.
“What do you want?” he asks in a way of greeting, and a juice box flashes across the screen along with his obnoxious mouth as he slurps at the straw.
“There’s a situation I could use your assistance with,” I tell him.
“Let me guess, you’re mating with a human,” Jekyll says, after the juice box makes a staticky slurping sound.
“I am, and Mikael has a big mouth,” I scowl, assuming he must have told him.
Jekyll is an enigma. Showing up outside my lab in New Orleans shortly after Anna’s death, insisting I needed him.
He quickly proved himself a magician, somehow blending science and magic and creating some of the most potent and incredible concoctions that have helped the supernatural community and made Talbot Global the profitable giant it is.
I long gave up trying to deduce what supernatural type he adheres to, but he’s not aged a day since we met over one hundred-and-twenty years ago and has proved his loyalty several times over, even if he does have unorthodox ways.
“First Vlad needs something so he can sit in the fucking sun, then Doyle calls me over some chef he met at the castle, and now you. Yes, Mikael told me, but it’s strange you’re all finding mates at once,” he says.