Chapter 2 #2
“How did you do that?” I demand the answer to this riddle cause what the fuck did he just do differently?
“Americans, always in such a rush. You must let the lock scan the card properly. It only takes two seconds. Here,” he grabs my bags and walks into my room with them before handing me back the card and closing the door in my face.
“You try.” His voice comes through the door muffled, and I glare at the peephole.
Okay, Oma. You can do this.
I press the card to the lock and count out two Mississippis, and voila, the door clicks open.
“I did it!” I push it a little harder than I should have in my excitement and knock Santo right in the nose.
Oh shit.
Blood trickles down to his lip, and I reach up to wipe it away, but before I make contact, his arm swings out to grab my wrist in a strong, firm grip.
“Do not touch me.” His words land like a slap in the face, which I guess would be fair play, but it hurts nonetheless.
I step back and try to pull my arm away, but he won’t let go.
His eyes are narrowed, the vein on his temple throbbing visibly.
I watch as he struggles to regain control, and for one shocking moment, I’m scared of him.
The thought that I’m standing in a hotel room in a foreign country with a stranger that I’ve injured makes my pulse quicken, and not from the desire I was feeling before.
“I apologize for my overreaction. Please allow me to make it up to you.” Santo motions me further into my room, but my legs are frozen.
“Paloma, you need not be afraid of me. You are safe here.” Sure, ‘cause that’s what every serial killer in the history of serial killers has said to their victims.
I open my lips to speak, but only manage a tiny squeak comes out.
“Oma,” I correct him.
“May I clean up in your restroom?” Right, he’s bleeding.
That seems to snap me out of whatever was trying to take over my body, and I nod.
“I’m sorry. Yes, of course. I’ll get you some ice.” I turn in a circle, not knowing where anything is yet, and spot the ice bucket on the small bar in the kitchenette.
Before he can say another word, I’m out of the room, clutching the bucket and key card to my chest like a life jacket. I have a sexy stranger in my room that I have drawn blood from, and now I must get him out pronto. I’m not safe to be around.
Mama should have named me Jane, ‘cause Calamity is definitely my middle name.
I fill the bucket and hustle back to the room. Scan and hold the key card and slowly push open the door. Good, no loud thump this time. I walk over to the bar and place the bucket down as the sound of the water stops.
“If you grab a hand towel from the bathroom, I can make you an ice pack,” I turn to see Santo standing in the doorway watching me, shirtless.
“No need. I’m a quick healer.” I hear the words, but my eyes are too busy taking in his physique.
Smooth tan skin, too many abs to count, and a tattoo half hidden from view, by his pants.
“I really want to see that tattoo.”
He unbuckles his belt and peels back the one side of his pants as if he could hear my thoughts, and it makes me look up at him in shock.
“When a beautiful woman asks you to show off your body, you don’t ask her to repeat herself.” His playful grin tells me two things.
One, I fucking said that out loud. And two, this attraction isn’t one-way.
Thank fucking God.
Santo
CLAIM HER!
I ignore my other half and allow this woman who has so quickly consumed my entire world to move her face closer to my cock. It’s almost as if every human survival instinct in her has failed. She has no idea the danger she’s truly in.
How could I really lose control at any moment despite my reassurance of her safety?
I wouldn’t harm her per se, but the damage I could cause her body with mine is impossible to describe.
I would ruin her. Rut her until she was full of me.
Praying to the great maker that my seed took root and that she grew ripe with my child.
So lost in my own head, I fail to see her raise her hand to touch my exposed skin. The moment her finger lands on my tattoo, a chain reaction starts that I can no longer stop. It would be like trying to stop the Earth from spinning around the sun.
MATE!
“Is that a Dove?” Her voice sounds so small, and the disbelief in her eyes matches mine when I first saw her name on the hotel paperwork.
I force myself to step back before I take things too far.
She’s already been exposed to my mating scent longer than any other woman participating in the Bride run.
It’s an unfair disadvantage to my fellow clan members.
If anyone were to know we’ve already touched to seal the mating bond, it would disqualify us from the hunt and, as punishment, have our memories wiped.
Starting the process of finding each other again.
I will not let that happen.
“I must go.” I grab the shirt I took off to keep from getting it wet and dart out of her room.
I opt for the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long, and she’d be able to catch up with me. The mating fever will start soon, and the only hope we have now is distance.
Six more days.