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She sighs and then opens her mouth as though she’s going to say something. She closes it and then shakes her head.
“A puzzle, Damian,” she murmurs. “Seriously.”
Chapter Ten
Dakota
I sit in the passenger side, stroking Sparky in my lap, occasionally sneaking glances at Damian as we drive across the States.
Down long field-bordered roads, through snow-blanketed lands, past endless truck stops and diners and little dot-on-the-map towns, we drive, on and on, for eight-plus hours. We only stop to use the bathroom twice and to grab a quick bite to eat.
We say little, as though we’ve both agreed to retreat into our private worlds and process the last twenty-four hours.
Perhaps if I was normal, sane, whatever the heck that is, my mind would be firmly rooted on the psychopath who tried to assault me and the way his body bucked and fell when the bullet tore through him.
But mostly I think about Damian the Puzzle and his confusing behavior.
Last night, when he basically acknowledged I’d been touching myself, leaned in … and then the drunk guy interrupted us and he stopped. I was left wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing.
But then this morning, when he called my voice beautiful, angels of light danced through my body. The praise made me feel like I was going to take off, float like a song note into the air.
I’ll die before I let anything happen to you.
Surely that means something.
Surely that means that these crazy images that keep cycling through my mind – me and Damian hand in hand as an old married couple, me and Damian at a summer lake with a guitar in my lap and our children splashing in the azure water, me and Damian twisted and tangled in bed together – surely it means that, just maybe, he’s feeling it too.
Feeling what? a voice mutters within.
This crazy attraction, this feeling that I was in that room for a reason with Dobry—so that I could meet his killer.
Fate.
I look across at him now, as we drive through a forest of leafless trees, their branches turned white with the constant snowfall. The heat blasts and turning my cheeks red, making me sleepy, but I focus on Damian and the steady way he drives the car, wondering if he’ll drive our lives just as steadily.
I wish I could reach inside that silver head of his and get access to his thoughts.
Does she really think I’d be attracted to her? I’ve had supermodels. I’ve had socialites. I’ve had royalty. I’ve had a million women more attractive than her. Is she insane?
Is that what he’s thinking, as he feels my gaze burning into him?
The cottage is hidden down a country road that the sedan is just about able to navigate. Sparky sits up as we bump our way deeper and deeper into the forest, the world already starting to turn dark, the sky bruising and shielding. Sparky tilts his head up at me, tongue hanging out.
“I know,” I tease. “He’s not a very good driver, is he?”
Damian smirks, glancing over at me briefly. “You sassy little thing,” he snarls. “I ought to make you pay for that.”
My skin tingles, the same way it did last night when I was certain he was going to kiss me.
“What did you have in mind?” I just about manage to force out, my tongue miraculously not becoming tied.
Damian glances at Sparky and then grins like a wolf.
“How about we get the pup set up inside, and then I show you, eh?”
“See what I mean?” I sass right back, heart thudding, skin buzzing in a million different places. “Such a puzzle.”
“Don’t worry,” he snarls. “I’ll solve it for you pretty damn soon.”
I squeeze my legs together, my sex getting tight and wet, and suddenly the ridiculous idea that he can smell my sopping juices stabs into my mind. I tell myself I’m being silly. He’s not a freaking vampire, for God’s sake.
Finally, we arrive at the cottage, a stocky building that looks like it’s built completely out of snow as it sits there, surrounded on all sides by trees.
Sparky begins to wag his tail and yip happily, pawing at the passenger side door.
“Has he been here before?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Damian murmurs. “Just keep him here a sec while I check the place out.”
“It looks deserted,” I comment.
Damian nods. “That doesn’t mean much in my business.”
“It’s okay, boy,” I tell Sparky, holding him in my lap as Damian climbs from the car and approaches the building, gun in hand, looking every inch the indomitable hitman in his jet black coat, black jeans, and his thick black boots.
He does a circuit of the cottage and then waves over to me, nodding.
The moment I open the door, Sparky leaps out, marking the snow and then diving into a big pile of it, popping out the other side with a proud wiggle and a big pink grin on his face.
