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The trouble was, she hadn’t had a man in her bed for way too long and now she was just as bad as Marcus. She was a young woman on her honeymoon and everything she needed was in the other room.
She turned the shower off, stepped onto the bath mat, grabbed a purple towel, and dried herself off. She took her time working her Clinique lotion into every square inch of her skin.
She may be a vampire and she may heal fast but she vowed she looked better because of Clinique.
She heard a tapping on the door then a soft scratching. “Havily?” From beneath the door and around the doorjambs, fennel invaded the steamy bathroom.
Uh-oh.
“Yes.” The word kind of squeaked out.
“We need to talk.” Another soft scratching sounded. More fennel. Oh. God.
She drew a couple of deep breaths. “I know.” But she didn’t speed up her process. She tapped the moisturizer with her little finger very gently beneath her right eye, then her left. This really wasn’t necessary, but the ritual calmed her.
“How long are you going to be in there?”
“I don’t know. I feel safe in here.”
“I’m not a monster.”
“I know.”
“Just wanted you to know.”
“I know.” He was just a deserter. But he’d also saved her life four months ago during an attack at Endelle’s palace. The vampire wasn’t all bad.
“Okay. I’ve ordered Greek.”
“I’ll be out in a few. I promise.”
“Okay.”
She stared at the door. So what was she supposed to do with this man?
* * *
Marcus felt lost as he stared at the bathroom door. He wanted to bust the damn thing down and drag Havily back to bed. He wanted to keep her there for maybe a year—or a century. He wanted to taste her … everywhere. He wanted her blood again.
He could smell her honeysuckle scent and his balls tightened. Dammit.
He turned on his heel and made his way out of the bedroom. He paced through the small suite of rooms that made up her town house, up and down the short hallways, through the kitchen back into the living room. He was uneasy and tense so he made this loop over and over, trying to just calm down.
Still, she remained in the bathroom, probably tending to her perfect hair and her stylish makeup. Okay, so he really approved of how she cared for herself. His approval wasn’t helping.
He’d finally made love to the woman he’d been craving for four months and the experience had been … incredible. Trouble was, as soon as he’d detected her lovely honeysuckle scent wafting from the bathroom, he’d grown as hard as flint, all over again. With Havily around, it didn’t take much.
He’d been awake for hours. He’d phoned Ennis several times, walking him through various aspects of his empire, things he thought Ennis would need to know. But the bastard sounded so f**king patronizing, yes, he knew about the contracts that needed to be signed, yes, the board meeting had gone off without a hitch, no, he didn’t think the COO of the corporation handling the horticulture exports needed to be replaced. Blah, blah, blah.
He kept pacing. This not having anything to do, even for a few hours, bugged the shit out of him. He was a man of forward motion and action. But all he could do right now was wait for Havily to get dressed and for the food to arrive. Then what? He felt ready to jump out of his skin. He never had this much downtime.
After a good half hour of pacing, he turned on his heel, left the dining room, and marched through the kitchen, down the hall, to a closed door he’d been ignoring. He turned the knob and pushed the door open.
What he saw stunned him. In the very center of what proved to be an office was a huge architectural rendering standing at least three feet by six feet or so and rising some four feet in the air. What the hell was this? Looked like some kind of incomplete office complex.
He noticed that the topmost level had several wide stretches of green, which he knew represented areas of lawn, which meant that all the levels of the building below were actually underground. He saw miniature steel girders sunk deep, indicating that the building would be many stories in height. Was this what Havily did in her spare time?
“What are you doing in here?”
He didn’t turn around immediately because he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m a little antsy, but what is this? I’m really impressed.”
He heard her sigh. “Just a project I’ve been working on in conjunction with an architect for the past several years. It’s a military-admin complex. For a long time I’ve thought Madame Endelle’s operation could be seriously improved starting with a new facility. I had a mock-up completed and ready to present, but it got annihilated by a flamethrower.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
Another sigh. “I tried to present my ideas to Madame Endelle, but she took an instant dislike to my audacity. She torched the whole thing although I will admit my timing was atrocious. Still…”
Marcus turned around fully. “Well, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I was trying to distract myself…” He looked her up and down and his lips parted. What she wore wasn’t sexy, but it was stylish. He’d known a lot of models over the decades and he recognized the fashion influence. She wore silk cream pants cuffed tight at the ankle and leopard-print heels. The blouse was long-sleeved, rolled up to the elbows, in blue plaid, also in silk, very chic. She wore pearls in long loops. Her hair was a floating layer of red. Her makeup was perfection, as always, and expert shading and mascara enhanced her light green eyes. The woman knew how to put herself together.
She was a feast for the eyes and he devoured. Her gaze slid down his change of clothes as well and her expression flared. He had on a short-sleeved blue silk shirt and tailored slacks. He noted her approval. “I folded some things from home,” he explained, essentially his Tom Ford collection. Given his profession, he wore jeans only on Bainbridge, the place no one visited, his sanctuary. Here? No jeans. “I’m planning on staying with you until we get your security situation figured out.”
She nodded. “And I need you to be here. I know I’m not safe. And … you look really nice. What am I smelling? I mean the fragrance you’re wearing.”
He smiled. He couldn’t help it. “Grey Vetiver. Tom Ford.”
She responded with a smile; then her nostrils flared. “Would you knock it off with the fennel? Oh.” He heard the vibration as she reached into her pant pocket. “Excuse me. It’s her.” She straightened her shoulders. “Yes, Madame Endelle.” Her gaze was fixed on Marcus, the color on her cheeks heightened. “Of course. At once.”
