Just One Bite (21 page)

“Kip? Is he your husband?”

“Wow, you’re good. Are you psychic?”

“More like stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Cupid,” I blurted. “I’m more like Cupid in that my expertise involves finding love for Manhattan’s lonely and desperate.”

“How sweet.” She giggled.

No, really.

She actually
giggled
before rushing on in her pixie-like voice, “It was love at first sight for Kip and me. We met during a seminar called ‘Name That Demon’ at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Three years and a set of twins later, and we’re still going strong. If you don’t mind waiting until he finishes putting the play set together, I’m sure he can help you.”

“Why don’t I just call you back at a more convenient time?”
Not.

While I needed an exorcist in the worst way, I wasn’t about to put a pair of young human parents in the same room with Satan’s own. We’re talking
twins.

She giggled again. “Holla.”

So much for Google. I spent the next ten minutes brainstorming other alternatives.

I could cruise the local churches for an experienced priest, but I knew I wouldn’t make it inside the door without breaking out into a massive case of hives. Not to mention—and this was the biggie—no Catholic priest would agree to perform an exorcism without a full-blown investigation by the Church, which was why I hadn’t headed for St. Michael’s in the first place.

First off, I couldn’t afford the attention (denizen of the darkness, remember?). Nor did I have the time to spare for such a process. I’d already been spotted in Times Square with Evie and Vinnie. It was just a matter of time before Ash and his brothers figured out what was going on and tracked the demon back to me.

I racked my brain for other options.

I could run an ad for an exorcist in the local Wanted section, but that, too, required time I didn’t have.

I could call my great Aunt Lourdes, who had a blood slave who was related to someone high up at the Vatican. The only problem with that was that Aunt Lourdes—the typical snotty, pretentious born vampire—wouldn’t begin to understand why I wanted to help a human. She would most certainly narc to my parents. Which would mean another black mark next to my name.

Not that I cared, of course (okay, maybe a little, but there was nothing I could do about it, since I actually liked the person I’d become). But I wasn’t going through all the drama with my folks for nothing, which was exactly what I would be doing because, in the end, no way would they help me help a human.

I could check the Yellow Pages for a listing of local saints. But, come on, this was New York. Pure and the Big Apple didn’t really go together, so I had a gut feeling I would come up with a big fat zero.

Still…

I’d just pulled out my local phone book (hey, desperate times and all that) when a strange awareness did a fast jig up and down my spine.

My ears perked, tuning to every sound, from the soft pad of footsteps out in the hallway to the whistle of a tea kettle in some distant apartment. My nostrils flared, drinking in a swirl of scents—from the rich aroma of bottled blood to the leftover tuna Mrs. Janske had fed to her cats to the putrid stench coming from my bedroom.

A familiar tingling started in the pit of my stomach, spreading and gaining momentum until every nerve in my body buzzed to life. My hands trembled and my heart paused.

And just like that, I knew a certain hot, hunky bounty hunter stood on my doorstep.

Twenty

I
heard the steady rap on the door, followed by Ty’s familiar voice. “Open up. We need to talk.”

A loud thud from the bedroom punctuated his re quest and I rushed to the door. Instead of hauling it open, I plastered myself against it to make sure it didn’t budge. “Now’s not a really good time,” I said through the thick wood. More knocks drifted from the bedroom, followed by a gasp and a loud, wet burp.

Ugh, I was
so
docking Evie’s pay when this was all over.

“Look, I know you’re mad because I was spying on you,” Ty went on, his deep voice echoing in my ears. The wood seemed to warm beneath my hands and my fingers tingled. “But there was no way around it.”

“Mad? I mean, yeah, yeah, I’m mad.” I frowned at the door. “I’m royally pissed.”

“I know you and you always seem to end up in the middle of trouble.” He went quiet for a long moment before he added, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

My heart gave a tiny lurch and I barely caught the smile before it tugged at my lips. “FYI—I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Sure you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That in the past six months you’ve gotten yourself staked by a jealous werewolf, arrested for murder, poisoned by another jealous werewolf, and nearly decapitated by my sire. Most vampires attract the opposite sex. You? You attract trouble.”

Hey, I attracted my share of the opposite sex. I ignored the tingling against my palms and frowned. “I don’t need you following me all over the city, keeping tabs, asking questions.”
Watching.
The last thought sent a burst of excitement through me and my toes shivered.

“Open the door,” came the deep, mesmerizing voice.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I glanced around frantically, my gaze bouncing from the bedroom door to the leftovers of my wardrobe cluttering the couch. “Because my place is a mess.”

“Since when do you care about that?”

Since never.
I tried again. “I had a tough night at work and I haven’t had a chance to touch up my makeup or hair.”

“I like the natural look.”

My heart gave another lurch. “Trust me. Medusa’s got nothing on me.”

“You always look great. Now open up.”

Darn it. Where was a
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’m outta here.”
when you really needed it?

I sent up a silent prayer that Evie would keep quiet, slid the chain into place, and then unlatched the dead bolt. I pulled open the door the mere inch that the chain allowed and peered through the crack at Ty. “Yes?”

He arched one dark eyebrow, the tiny scar kicking up a notch as he eyeballed me. “So that’s how it is? You’re not even going to let me inside? Just because you’re pissed off?”

“I don’t need a watchdog.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t go wandering around Times Square because of this demon.”

“I didn’t go wandering around Times Square because of this demon. I went because of Evie. She was, um, dying to try out this new club and I’d promised to go with her.” I shrugged. “What can I say? I don’t like to break my promises.”

“Yeah, well neither do I, and I promised Ash I’d keep an eye on you so he wouldn’t have to.”

Nix the tiny sliver of hope that Ty was here because he was really and truly worried about me. It was all about business.

I stiffened. “You and Ash need to get an afterlife. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do.” I started to shut the door, but suddenly his hand was there.

“Like what?”

“I’m cleaning my oven,” I blurted, my brain latching onto the first excuse that popped up.

“You don’t clean.”

“I’m watching TV.”

“You never watch TV.”

“I’m balancing my checkbook.”

“You never balance anything. You just stash the statements in your underwear drawer and hope everything works out.”

Did this vamp know me or what?

“Last chance,” he went on. “Open up.”

“Or what?”

“Or this.” Metal popped and the chain ping-ponged and suddenly it was his arm that pushed inside. Then half his body made it in and suddenly the door was open and Ty was standing right in front of me.

His brows drew together as he stared down at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“N-nothing. I…” I swallowed. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
Other than the fact that I’m acting like a lunatic?
I squelched the last thought and squared my shoulders. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. Really.”

He tore his gaze from mine and glanced around. “Is somebody here?”

“Of course not.” I summoned my best laugh. “It’s just me. Yours truly. The one and only.”

He started to move past me and I planted my hands on his chest before he could step over the threshold. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to sit down so we can talk this out.”

“But there’s nothing to talk out. I can take care of myself, end of talk.”

Suspicion sparked as he stared down at me. “You know more about this than you’re letting on, and I want to know what you know.” He gripped my hands and forced them to my sides.

For a made vamp, he was surprisingly strong. Then again, I hadn’t had my dinner and so I was running low on super born-vamp energy at the moment.

Even so, I stood firm and blocked his entrance.

“You might as well move because I’m coming in,” he warned.

“No, you’re not.” My hands still smarted from his grip and a thought struck. “I haven’t invited you in,” I added with a flourish. “So you can’t come in.”

He played the super-strength card again, grabbed me by the waist, picked me up, and set me off to the side. “That only works in the movies.” And then he waltzed right into my apartment.

Okay so I knew that, but I’d been desperate.

“Stop,” I blurted as he started for the bedroom door. A steady
thump, thump, thump
drifted from the other side and I knew Evie had switched on my iPod docking station.

Uh-oh.

Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” blared from the speakers. The music and lyrics mingled with a long low guttural moan, and Ty stiffened.

“What the hell…?”

“You can’t go in there.” I flew around him and plastered myself against the bedroom door. “There’s…” I searched for the words. “Someone’s in there,” I blurted. There was nothing left to do but spill my guts and hope my BV charm would be enough to keep Ty from calling Ash and ratting me out.

My charm, or my tears. Big wet suckers that would have him so freaked he would forget all about what sat behind Door Number One and concentrate on getting the hell out of PMS-ville.

“I was going to tell you.” I blinked several times and willed the waterworks. “I just didn’t know how.”

“This is what I think it is, isn’t it?” Ty’s face darkened and his eyes fired a blinding shade of blue.

I summoned my voice. “Yes, it is.”

His mouth pulled into a tight line and his brows pinched together. “Dammit, Lil.”

“I can’t just turn my back on someone I care about,” I rushed on. “We have a history together. We’re tight.”

He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “He means that much to you?”

He? I was actually referring to Evie, and not the demon, but since Ty looked ready to rip me a new one, I wasn’t going to argue semantics.

“Yes,” I declared. “He does.”

“I don’t fucking believe this.” He shook his head again before nailing me with that piercing blue stare. “So that’s it? You’re sleeping with Remy now, so I’m just supposed to forget everything that’s happened between us, turn around and walk away?”

I nodded. “Damn straight I’m sleeping with—wait a second. Did you just say
Remy
?”

“He’s here, isn’t he?” He indicated the door at my back. “In there.”

“He is? I mean, yeah”—I nodded vigorously—“he is.”
Liar, liar,
my conscience chided. But we’re talking a little white lie as opposed to a great big black one. What’s more, I hadn’t actually thought up the lie. Ty was the one who’d mentioned Remy. I was simply perpetuating the lie in the interest of self-preservation because, let’s face it, if Ty didn’t know I had Hell’s Most Wanted locked in my bedroom, I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him.

I nodded vehemently. “He’s in there right now. Naked,” I blurted. “Locked and loaded, if you know what I mean.” Marvin launched into a loud
“I’m hot just like an oven…I need some lovin’…”

Ty looked ready to bite someone’s head off. “And just where does that leave us?”

I’m sorry.
That’s what I meant to say. Something quick and to the point and non-engaging so that Ty would leave and all of this would be over.
I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. G’bye.

But seeing the accusation in his eyes, the hurt, unleashed something inside of me—namely my own hurt, which I’d been nursing since we’d had our closure sex and he hadn’t made any effort to contact me.

Closure,
a voice reminded me. As in finished, done,
over.

My head knew that, but my heart…

“Us?” I bristled. “Did you just say where does that leave
us
? Since when is there an
us
? There’s you, who doesn’t have the courtesy to call or send flowers or even e-mail me to see how I’m doing. And then there’s me, who thinks it might be nice if you’d called or sent flowers or e-mailed to see how I’m doing. Hell, I would have been happy with a text message.”

“Lil—”

“Don’t
Lil
me. You’ve made it very clear you can’t have a relationship and now you want to act offended because I’m not sitting around waiting for something that you’ve assured me is never going to happen? Talk about pompous and self-centered.”