Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5 (5 page)

This close, I could see the sleek feathering of each eyebrow, the black velvet of his dilated pupils ringed by coronas of blue fire. The straight edge of his nose, the elegant flare of nostril, the perfect curl of upper lip, begging for a graze of my fingertip. My tongue throbbed to trace the full swell of his lower lip.

Our argument’s passion blew into runaway lust blasting between us.

“Junior. The way you look at me, your golden-brown eyes…” Glynn sat back abruptly. His eyes clenched. “Insane. I must have gone stark raving mad.” His eyes opened again, intent on mine, his stare as hot as if I were dressed in nothing but his favorite sausage. “I want to kiss you.”

I swallowed hard. I had a duty, and the last thing I needed was to get trapped in a relationship. This man, blistering-hot sexy, said complication the way gravity said down.

But blistering-hot sexy didn’t drop into Meiers Corners every day. I licked my lips.

His gaze fell precipitously to my mouth and sharpened. “Insane,” he repeated, reaching for me, snagging the base of my braid with strong fingers. “I’m not looking for involvement.”

“Perfect,” I breathed. “Neither am I.”

“All right then.” And his mouth found mine.

Even if our dark corner hadn’t cloaked us, that kiss would have driven any concern about being seen clear from my head. Hell, it drove out any thought whatsoever except for
oh my
.

Glynn didn’t kiss tentatively. Didn’t try to entice with tempting brushes or soft licks. His mouth covered mine, hot and demanding, pure power channeled into heat and thrust, passion and drive.

Or maybe he was just meeting me where I already was—midlust. My heart pumped hard, my tongue welcomed his heat. He tasted so right. I went straight from
oh my
to
hell yes
, as if I’d known him for years.

His hand tightened on my hair. His head slanted, mouth opening, tongue thrusting deep, opening me wide. Warm, wet, it explored me, dipping, cresting, diving again. A dark groan filled my mouth, his. “You taste like heaven.” Seizing my head with both hands, he took me with deeper thrusts of his tongue.

I clutched his arms to steady myself. My fingers dug past buttery-soft leather into biceps big and hard as boulders.

He growled, plunged his tongue so deep I choked, or maybe that was my throat constricting with need. To my embarrassment I opened wider, clutched harder, whimpered for more.

He hauled me into his arms, standing as he did so. Spinning us, he bent me back against the table and drove himself between my legs. His chest superheated my breasts, his abs burned my crotch, his mouth devoured mine and we were two seconds away from a public offense when I heard a horrified, “
Glynn
.”

My sight cleared to Mishela’s pale face just beyond Glynn’s leather-covered shoulder. Next to her was Rocky’s face, red. Mishela’s nostrils were flared like she smelled something shocking. Rocky just looked shocked.

Glynn stiffened. Then, with an apologetic glance at me, he stepped back. I slid onto trembling feet and nearly buckled. His hand shot out, steadying me until I could stand on my own. I swallowed but no words came.

Rocky cleared her throat. “Well. Um, I should be getting home. Being that it’s late. Being that it’s—” She glanced at her watch. “Wow. It really is late. Nearly one. Okay, well, see you all tomorrow.” Flushing and stammering, she turned toward the door.

I didn’t see Glynn move, but suddenly he blocked her path. “The night is dangerous. We all go together.” Snaring a wallet from his jacket, he dropped a twenty on the table. “Come.” He threaded his way out, started north on Fifth.

We followed like baby ducks, each lost in her own embarrassment. But walking brought a sense of normalcy back. Mishela, with the exuberance of youth, shrugged off the awkward moment first. She dropped back to walk with me. “Is Meiers Corners really dangerous? Or is the warden just being himself?”

“We have crime,” I said. “If you count lawn flamingos. And those fat-butt garden ornaments have to be at least a felony.”

Rocky, coming up alongside us, shot me a look.

“Hey,” I said. “They ought to be a crime.”

“Junior. For your information, my mother has one of those.”

“She has a garden gnome too. That cancels out the fat butt. Garden gnomes are cool.”

“No way. Garden gnomes are creepy. They’re like weeping angels.” Rocky shivered. “Or mimes.”

“Or clowns,” Glynn said over his shoulder. When he caught my surprised look, he flushed slightly. “I’ve had to comfort children scared by clowns.”

The thought of big, protective Glynn, comforting children… I wasn’t looking for entanglement, but here might be a man worth it—no, no, no. That was exactly what had gotten my mother, once an operatic mezzo, limited to the small pond of Meiers Corners.

Mishela danced out in front of us. “So where do you live?” She said it to both of us, but her eyes made it clear it was Rocky she was asking.

Which Rocky totally missed. “Junior’s on Fourth and Jefferson, over her folks’ sausage shop. Across from Kalten’s Roller Rink. Well, it was Kalten’s before it burned down in November.”

“That’s nice.” Mishela smiled, waiting for what she really wanted to know.

I took pity on her. “Rocky lives on Eighth and Eisenhower.”

“Elena O’Rourke’s old apartment,” Rocky said. “Before she married Bo Strongwell. Then it was Nixie Schmeling’s before she married Julian Emerson, and Liese Schmetterling’s before she married Logan Steel…huh. I never realized that before.”

“What?”

“That so many women lived there just before they got married.”

I had. Nixie called it the Fucking Fangtastic Flat, but she had a strange sense of humor. “It’s not so odd, statistically speaking. Midtwenties is when most women get married.”

“Maybe you’re next, Rocky.” Mishela fell into step with her. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Subtle like a Hummer, but she was only seventeen. I waited to see if Rocky caught it, but where her own attractiveness is concerned, she’s dumber than a sack of hammers. She said, “Me? No. Both Junior and I are confirmed singles.”

“Right.” My eyes flickered to Glynn, skulking in the shadows ahead of us. The man even skulked like sex. “Confirmed.”

Mishela nudged Rocky. “Nobody you have the hots for?”

I blushed. I definitely got hot around Glynn.

Strangely, Rocky blushed too. “No boyfriends. Oh, look. Here’s Jefferson. We turn here.”

“I can do one block alone,” I said. “You don’t have to walk me to my door.”

Glynn spun, took me by the nape and steered me onto Jefferson.

I fought a shiver from the heat of his strong fingers. “What are you doing?”

“I said we’d walk you home.” He didn’t add the duh but I heard it anyway. Only in his accent, it would be a caressing
deh
.

“This is out of your way if you’re headed for Rocky’s. Or if you’re headed for where you’re staying—hey, where are you staying?”

“We keep together,” he replied, ignoring my question.

“And when Glynn speaks, you’d better listen,” Mishela said.

“Seriously, Meiers Corners is as safe as a tricycle with training wheels, pink flamingos aside,” I said. “It’s only one block. If something happens, I’ll yell and you can come running.”

“Trouble blows up quickly.” Glynn’s voice was low and rough, almost a growl.

“Glynn’s expecting a disaster,” Mishela said.

I muttered, “Something tells me Glynn’s always expecting a disaster.”

“That he is.” She chuckled. “Gloomy Glynn, sucking the joy out of everything.”

“Enough, Mishela.” His gruff tone was leavened by an affectionate note.

“You’re better than Mr. Elias. At least I can tease you.”

“Mr. Elias only wants you safe—” Glynn stopped abruptly, and since my neck was still in his long fingers, so did I.

Behind us, Mishela made a strange noise. Low, angry, almost a snarl. I tried to look, but my head was immobilized, Glynn’s fingers strong as a vise. I slanted my eyes back, which gave me a headache, but it was enough to see her eyes harden, her features sharpen and her stance turn distinctly threatening. Her hair furled in a sudden wind, snapping behind her like a cape.

Sharpened features, hawk-like eyes… I’d seen that look somewhere before. A book.

“Mishela.” Glynn’s voice was cool, a warning. “We have company.”

She blinked a couple times. And just that quickly, the threat ebbed from her.

“Good. Stay here.” Glynn finally released me.

Only to disappear around the corner. Around the corner to…
my home
. “Hey wait!” I dashed after.

And yanked up like a dog on a chain when Mishela grabbed my wrist. For a slip of a girl, she was strong. “Glynn said to stay.” Her face was as stern as his.

“He’s your guard, not mine.” I tried to shake loose, but she had fingers like a concert pianist’s. And yeah, that’s superstrong. I tried a wrist-twist, but apparently she’d had training because she only shifted hands.

I shook my wrist again, gently, a nonverbal phooey. “That’s not fair.”

Her stern expression melted into a grin. “That’s what I always tell Glynn. Know what he says? ‘It isn’t, is it?’”

“Such sympathy. I’m not surprised you feel stifled.”

Vulnerability flashed across her face, just as suddenly hidden. She gave a little laugh. “Oh, it’s not so bad.” Her acting was perfect, but her tone was a quarter step off. “It’s like I have five big brothers. Lots of girls would love—”

A howl cut her off, followed by the roar of a lion. I froze as metal sang like the crossing of swords.

“What the—that’s from the store!” I leaped into motion, only to yank up short against her grip. “Let go!”

“Junior, I can’t.” Mishela’s eyes were sad, and far older than her seventeen years.

“I can,” Rocky said simply, and dashed around the corner onto Fourth Street.

With an anguished cry, Mishela released me to dart after her. “Rocky, no!”

I kicked after them both and—

Plowed straight into them. Mishela held Rocky, stroking her hair. Rocky didn’t seem to be aware of it. She clutched her instrument bag to her stomach and stared at the vacant street.

Totally empty. No lion, no swordplay.

No Glynn.

A light snapped on above us. The
shoop
of a window rising and a clap of shutters presaged a head poking from the second floor of the storefront. The face had my features but was tubby, older and male. A lick of silver hair winged out from under a striped nightcap, a cookie elf complete with the ruddy cheeks.

My dad.

“Junior!
Was ist hier passiert?
”

Just what I needed, family yelling in the street. And poor Rocky hated conflict. “English, please, Pop.” Meiers Corners was founded in the 1800s by German immigrants, and Pop, though second generation, was raised speaking it and still dreamed in it. Sometimes I had to remind him not everyone spoke fluent
Deutsch
.

“
Ja
, all right. Junior, what are you doing? Do you know what time it is?”

“After midnight, Pop.”

“Then get your heinie up here and get some sleep. The store opens at eight
pünktlich
—whether you are awake or not.”

“But Pop—”

“Bed, Junior. Sausage doesn’t sell itself.” The window banged closed.

Good ol’ Business Truth #1 on the Eightfold Business Path. Other kids got “Early to bed and early to rise” or “The early bird gets the worm”. I got sausage slogans.

I turned to say goodbye. Strangely, with all Pop’s yelling, Rocky was still shivering in Mishela’s arms, staring at the empty street. I frowned. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” a deep voice answered.

Glynn glided toward us. His clothes were neat and clean, and not a bruise or scratch marred his hewn, stubbled jaw. If he’d been in a fight, it didn’t show.

He stopped so close to me I had to crane my neck. Damn, he was tall. I fell back a step.

His fingertips on my chin halted me. I hoped for a kiss. No, I didn’t. Yes, I—

“You saw nothing.” His murmur was soft, soothing, yet rang strangely in my head. “Neither of you saw anything.”

“But…but I did.” Rocky’s croak was far from her usual honeyed alto. “F…fighting.”

“You didn’t see fighting.” Glynn’s tone darkened, echoing. I shook my head.

“I did,” Rocky insisted. “You and someone…or some
thing
…”

Grimacing, Glynn flicked eyes to me. “Junior. You saw nothing.”

“Nope. But Rocky did. Hey, what’s with the cave voice?”

“Bloody hell.” Mr. Grimace intensified, joined by his little brothers Glower and Hands-on-Hips. “Both of you are immune?”

“I had a flu shot,” I said. “Working in retail you come into contact with all sorts of double-nasties. What does that have to do with what Rocky saw?”

“Bollocks.” Glynn’s blue eyes took on a distinctly icy cast.

Mishela laid a slim hand on his sleeve. “Why don’t we call Mr. Elias? He can explain everything to Rocky.”