Chapter Eight
Once on the street, he transformed back to his skin.
It was weird feeling the fur under her touch disappear, but thank goodness he wore the spandex shorts again.
He carried her down the street and into an alley where a car waited.
Carefully, he set her down next to it so he could grab clothes from the back seat.
“I told you I would talk to her,” he grumbled as he dressed.
“I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
He blinked. “Why not?”
“Gee, I wonder,” she grumbled. “Maybe because I don’t know you. Maybe because you’re a species I never knew about. Maybe because you don’t care about Peter.”
Deacon stopped and leaned against the car door. “Are you sure he’s just your friend?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because you seem awfully persistent,” he replied. “Let me remind you, he’s a grown ass man, if he wants to disappear, he has that right.”
“And I would fully support that decision if he had told me or his grandmother of his intention, but he didn’t. There’s no way he’d do that to her or me.”
She shifted and winced as pain stole her breath. With a sigh, he scooped her up once again and deposited her into the passenger side. Then he climbed behind the wheel and started up the engine. A moment later, they left the area.
“You can drop me off at my hotel,” she instructed.
“Your leg needs to be addressed.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
He blew out an annoyed breath. “You’re stubborn, you know.”
“When you grow up in a small town, that’s certainly a given.” She glanced over at him. “How does it work?”
“Work?” he questioned. “How does what work?”
“Being a shifter. Are you just, you know, born as a baby bull?”
“You think we just pop out of the womb with horns intact?” He flashed a wry smile. “No. Shifting usually arrives at puberty, but it’s different for everyone. My dad coached me when I was little, teaching me what to expect.”
Even at night, traffic was thick, and it seemed like Deacon did a lot of stop-and-go. New York City was a fascinating eclectic blend of many cultures, which she supposed allowed a Greek mythological creature and an Indonesian super lizard to exist in the same sphere.
“Did you have a normal childhood?”
He spared her a glance when he came to another light. “Define ‘normal.’”
“Elementary, middle, and high school? Stressing over final exams. Dating. Skirting around curfews. Getting drunk at parties and throwing up in the parents’ bathroom.”
“Uh,” he faltered. “That was very specific, but no. None of that. However, I think I just learned a shitload about you.”
She pretended to seal her mouth with an imaginary zipper. “I’ll never tell. What do teenage minotaurs do for fun?”
“We learn how to create our labyrinths.”
“What does that entail?”
“It’s part of our curse,” he said. “Wherever we live we must make our labyrinth, and we must stay close to it. The farther apart we are, and the more time we spend away from it, the weaker we grow.”
“So, you live down there?”
“No. I have a condo on the Upper West Side. Easy access to Central Part.”
Marion glanced around. “I don’t think you’re taking me to my hotel.”
“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “We’re going to my place. I have a lot of first aid stuff there. Komodo dragon talons are nasty. Luckily, you didn’t get bitten.”
She moved her leg, and once more, pain shot through her. “What’s the best way to get upstate?”
“Why do you need to go upstate?”
On her phone, she brought up the photo she took. “Shiel Sinaga has property upstate. I’m thinking Peter might be there.”
He let out a little groan. “You have a one-track mind.”
“A dog with a bone. How did you know I was at the cultural center?”
“I didn’t. I was there to talk to Shiel. We had a meeting where I was going to question her about your friend. That’s why the stairway was unlocked and the alarm deactivated.”
Marion blinked, trying to digest that information. She hadn’t thought about that stuff.
“You were helping me?”
“Of course,” he muttered. “I told you I would.”
“I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I never thought you’d actually go through with what you said.”
“You need to learn to trust.”
She pointed to herself. “Stubborn, remember?”
He turned down another road, which held a little less traffic. A very tall high-rise lay in front of them, and a moment later a gate on the underground parking garage opened, and he drove inside. The gate quickly closed behind them.
The garage was nicely lit, and he parked in a spot in the front, close to the elevator.
Once he turned off the engine, he told her to stay put then came around to lift her out.
Startled, she threw her arms around his neck, bringing her very close to his mouth.
The memory of their kiss rolled through her mind, and she couldn’t help but stare at his sexy mouth.
Sexy mouth? she mentally questioned. Are mouths sexy?
She determined they were, because his made her want to kiss him again.
He carried her into the elevator, then to his penthouse home, and finally into a bathroom.
The quick glimpse she saw of his home seemed to be decorated with warm, dark tones and contrasting accents.
The counter she sat upon was white soapstone, which kept the bathroom light and airy.
From under the vanity, he pulled out a first aid kit and placed it beside her.
“The pants are ruined,” he remarked.
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “These jeans were my favorite.”
“Can you shimmy out of them?”
“But I’m only wearing panties under them.”
He gave her a droll stare. “I’ve seen panties before.”
“Not mine.”
“I’m only interested in bandaging up your leg.”
“Well, can’t you just cut the bottom off? They’ll be jean shorts.”
“Why can’t you just take them off?”
“Because I need to go upstate and investigate Shiel Sinaga’s property. Peter has got to be there.”
“No, you’re not going.”
“Uh, yes, I am.”
“Uh, no, you’re not.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“Are you, like, five?” She stuck out her tongue, and he chuckled. “Okay, you won that round. I’ll get a pair of scissors.”
Marion tried assessing the wound, which had settled into a dull throb instead of a piercing burn. Now that she could properly see it, it didn’t look as bad as she imagined. Slap a Band-Aid on it and she was off and running to upstate New York.
Deacon returned and with a snip of scissors, and a few snips later she wore a pair of jean shorts. He cleaned the deep scratch, swathed it with antibiotic ointment, and taped it up nicely. Then he held out two brown pills and a bottle of water.
“What’re those?” she asked.
“Ibuprofen.”
Swallowing them down, she carefully got off the vanity. “Okay, thanks for the rescue and patching me up.”
“Of cour ... what are you doing?”
“Obviously placing an Uber request,” she replied as she started tapping out where she needed to go. “I need to rent a car.”
He pulled the phone from her hand and turned it off. “No.”
“Listen, Mr. Bull, I’m here on a mission,” she said, poking a finger into his very muscular chest. “I’m not going to—”
“I’ll take you.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Clearly, you need a keeper,” he surmised. “I volunteer as tribute.”
For a moment, she thought about the pros and cons and concluded if she took him up for the offer, she’d get upstate quicker.
“Deal,” she said. “But remember, I will Katniss Everdeen all over your ass if you prevent me from my quest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, now let’s go.”