CHAPTER 7 #2
When he lunges for me, the only thing I can do is make myself small enough to roll through his legs and come up behind him. I wield that tire iron like my life depends on it, since it does. It hits him square across the ass.
He doesn’t so much jolt forward as he turns around to grab my weapon from me. “I’m going to enjoy sucking you dry, little girl.”
The “little girl” part pisses me off. It’s one thing when Alain calls me “little girl,” because he says it in a melty, sexy, big-and-protective-give-me-orgasms kind of way. But this guy wears pomade and a cape, and his shoes aren’t even buffed to a shine.
“Suck on this, scumbag.” I slap my wristlet at him. The strap breaks when it connects with his supernaturally undead body.
Great. You’d think Coco would design purses with some quality control. You’d be wrong.
The tire iron joins Bad Haircut and my shoes as he flings it over my head, forcing me to duck.
My wristlet lies at his feet. I’m out of options, so I slowly circle so that my back faces the entrance to the alley again.
If I can keep him off me, I can lure him onto the main street where he won’t want to make a fuss.
Secrecy is a big deal for monsters. Plus, it will serve to lure him away from Bad Haircut, who sounds like she’s still trying to muster up a scream.
He growls before launching himself at me, this time keeping low. I back out of his way, but in doing so, I trip over something I can’t see. It’s dark in this part of the alley, no ambient light.
Get up, Bunny. Get the fuck up!
Great idea, brain.
I start scrambling, but I don’t get far. I crash into a wall behind me.
The vampire straightens. His attention diverts from me to something on the wall. If he wasn’t so hideous, he’d be almost cute as his head cocks to the side like a curious puppy’s.
In the next instant, something swipes out, fast. Something long, lethal, and clawed. I gape as the vampire’s head bobbles for a second before tumbling to the ground.
I yelp and find my feet, fast, only to discover a full-fledged gargoyle standing behind me.
Gone are Alain’s human form and face. He’s long and skeletal, his leather wings contracted because the alley is too narrow for him to spread them out.
Claws match his razor-sharp fangs, marking a nice contrast to the shreds of suit and shirt that cling to him in haphazard strips.
I swallow before I can find my voice. “Guess I ruined another suit?”
“You’re becoming an expensive fake-girlfriend,” he says in a voice that sounds like it’s being pushed through stone. “Luckily, I can support you. Are you alright?”
I nod and grab the clawed hand he extends. He’s careful not to slice me. All of me wants to melt against him as my adrenalin starts to subside, but Bad Haircut finally finds her voice and screams.
“Go. I’ll get her.”
His knuckles scrape against my cheekbone, smoothing back my messed-up hair.
“Find Jean-Luc. See you at home, Bumps.” And after bending his knees, he leaps straight into the sky.
Far, far up. His shuttered wings catch a draft, I guess, but when he’s free of one side of the building, they extend. And he’s gone.
Guess that ends our dinner date. Too bad. I’m hungry.
Once I manage to get Bad Haircut to her feet, I brush off my own clothing.
“Did you s-see that? T-that bat?”
I’d worry more about the vampire that almost ate her, but whatever. Keeping my mouth shut is a calling. I pick up my wristlet as I lead her back to the street. Jean-Luc jogs up. Unfortunately, the paparazzi is there, too.
“Miss Winters. This way.” And he ducks me into the back of the town car. We pull off in a blaze of flashing camera lights.
At least I managed to leave before the police showed up. Unfortunately, there are bound to be pictures. Bad Haircut is going to talk, and once she starts going on about vampires and big savior bats who claw off vampire heads, the police are going to want to see me.
If Morrie finds out, he’s going to insist on extra training. And The Network… damn, I’m screwed. In my rush to help Bad Haircut, I just let the monsters out of the bag.
When we pull up to the front door, Jean-Luc says, “I’ll walk you in.”
I wait until he opens the door for me, not solely because my etiquette teacher said I’m supposed to do so, but also because I’m shaking.
Not only did I just inadvertently help reveal monsters to the world, I didn’t even manage to kill the vampire.
Alain did. If he hadn’t saved the day, I’d be dead right now.
I can’t pull an acting gig, I make terrible coffee, I can’t remember customers’ names, and now I’ve messed up my second slaying attempt. Plus, Alain is going to...
He’s going to be so mad, I can’t even think about it.
Maybe the vampire should have just drained me.
The gargoyle is standing in the lobby, frowning, wrapped in a robe similar to the one I wore earlier. “That will be all for tonight, Jean-Luc. Thanks for getting her home safely.”
Home. The word echoes in my head.
“Don’t be too hard on her.” Jean-Luc squeezes my arm before exiting out the door.
Alain and I just stare at each other until the driver disappears. Then, all the fight seems to drain out of him. “You probably need a stiff drink. I know I do.”
“Um, do you have a cola?” I need cola after I’ve been upset. I don’t know why. I’m just not that into alcohol, but sugar… I need the sugar fix.
He gives me a strange look, but nods before gesturing me into the front parlor. From there, he picks up a phone, orders my cola, a decanter of whiskey for him, and sandwiches. When he’s done, he sinks down across from me into one of the chairs.
“So. That happened.”
“Yeah.” I have the mad urge to apologize.
Maybe not so mad given I just revealed the supernatural to reporters and implicated him in the mess just by virtue of him being my fake-billionaire-boyfriend, but whatever.
Oh, and then there’s his global initiative whosie-watsie. I probably just destroyed that, too.
Why am I such a mess? Why did I go after the vamp?
Alain squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose before he takes a deep breath, but when he opens his eyes, I don’t see rage. I see despair. “You were nearly killed, Bumps. You were nearly killed on my watch,” he says in a ragged whisper.
“You’re not responsible for me.” But it’s hard to push the words through my closed throat.
“I am. You’re my fake girlfriend. You’re living in my home. I… you’re mine.”
He looks so serious, so distraught by what almost occurred, that I can’t help feeling sorry, truly sorry, for what I’ve done. For what I’ve revealed. And guilty for making him feel bad about my own stupidity.
“It was just… instinct. I’m sorry.”
“Come here. Please. I need to… please.” He opens his arms, his gaze steady and unwavering, but his look beseeches.
I don’t even hesitate. I don’t even think about the fact that he could obviously hurt me. I just need to be in his arms as much as he seems to need to have me in them.
A sigh goes through us both as he grabs me onto his lap, huddling over me like a protective… gargoyle. He rocks me back and forth, whispering into my ear. “You’re fine. You’re alright. No harm done. You’re safe,” he murmurs, his accent suddenly deeper.
“I screwed up. The reporters…”
“I called my lawyer. It will be fine, Bumps.” His nickname for me lets me breathe easier, and when I look up, he swipes tear stains from my cheeks with his fingers. His normal, make-up covered fingers. “If anything had happened to you…”
“I revealed the supernatural. I’m so sorry.”
He nods. Then shrugs. “We’ll see. I don’t believe the reporters captured photos of me in fighting form, and my lawyer will pay off the police, the woman you rescued, and any journalist who thinks to sell the story.
But Bumps… you rescued that woman. She’s be dead now if it wasn’t for you.
I’m so proud of you, it’s… it’s kind of insane.
And I’m so afraid for you, I want to take you over my lap and spank you until you can’t sit for a week.
I want to lock you up so I never, ever lose you. ”
Belatedly, he seems to realize what he’s just said. His eyes widen.
“I’d be okay with that.” I don’t know where my words come from, either. I don’t mean them, obviously. I can’t. That’s ridiculous.
Except, the thought of this big, protective monster taking me over his knees and spanking my bottom before maybe chaining me to his bed so he can claim me—forever—makes me wet.
So wet, I have to jump from his arms, even though that’s the safest place I want to be.