AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My place. I’ve got a few cuts and bruises I need to get fixed up and my pants are shredded. How about you?”
“My butt hurts and I’m feeling the cold air where I shouldn’t.”
She felt him chuckle as he descended in front of a townhouse, landing on the front porch.
Once on solid ground, she found she had a hard time letting go. The muscles in her arms were stiff from holding on. She dragged them off his shoulders and shook them out.
She’d almost died back there.
And now she owed Connor. She stared at him, trying to form a sentence to offer her gratitude, but all she did was purse her lips. Nothing would come out.
Connor frowned at her. “You’re in shock. Let’s get you taken care of. I have a nice Cabernet Sauvignon, if you like wine.”
“Thanks.” She lifted a hand, staring at it. She was shaking bad. “Jesus.”
“It’ll pass.”
She looked up at him. “You’re not upset?”
“Oh, I need some wine, too. But I’ve been in a lot of over-the-top situations through the years. Border Patrol isn’t for sissies.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
Connor slid his arm around her waist as he guided her inside his home. The kitchen was opposite the slate tiled entrance. It was very spare-looking in stainless steel, dark wood cabinets and a black granite island. The dining area was next with a small glass table and four chairs. On the far wall was a large poster of a motorcycle she recognized.
“A Ducati,” she murmured. Her voice sounded dull to her own ears. Yep, shock.
“You know bikes?”
“Some. Especially the café racers. It’s either been beautifully restored or is in unbelievable condition.”
“I owned one before I went through the alter. When I had it shipped to Five Bridges, it was gone within a week. Somebody stole it, probably to use the money for flame drugs of one kind or another.” He drew a deep breath. “I’ve acquired a couple of others since, a Honda and a Kawasaki. But one day, I hope to locate and restore a Ducati.” A faraway look entered his eye. She thought she understood, especially when he added, “That is, once we have some kind of order in Crescent and the other territories.”
He moved into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine from a tall rack housing at least twenty bottles.
“Do a lot of drinking?” She meant it as a joke, but her words came out dull and weird.
He glanced at her over his shoulder, frowning. “No. You?”
She sighed heavily. He’d just saved her life. For that alone she should cut him some slack. “I thought it would sound funny but it didn’t. Sorry.”
He lifted a clear glass goblet to her. “You’re allowed.”
As he poured, she moved close to the island and took the glass. She sipped, then moaned. “Oh, that’s good.”
But her throat closed up unexpectedly and she leaned over the island, a sob erupting from her throat. She set her goblet down and planted her hands over her face because she started crying for no damn good reason at all.
And she wasn’t a crier.
And her ass felt thoroughly exposed and still hurt like hell.
The next thing she felt was the vampire’s hand on her back, rubbing in a gentle circle. “Go ahead, let it out, Iris. You’ll be the better for it.”
“I don’t want to cry.”
“Do it anyway. My mom told me women sometimes need to let the waterworks flow to keep the lid from blowing.”
She chuckled softly, because he was right.
