The Shopgirl's Prophecy (Beasts of Vegas Book 1) (18 page)

“I won’t hurt you.” He said it like a promise, like a solemn vow. “I’ll kill myself first.”

Her skin flushed under his scrutiny. She wet her lips. “I know.”

“Nothing and no one is going to hurt you. Not while I’m around.” His gaze lingered on her mouth. And then he found her eyes. “I want to kiss you.”

Her eyebrows surged. “You do?” She couldn’t keep up with this guy. Did all infecteds shift moods so rapidly? Did they all smell like a forest at night and stare with sad, soulful eyes for an uncomfortably long time?

Connor leaned into her, his jeans brushing her bare thighs. She arched her back as his right hand slid across the nape of her neck. His breath fanned her face, and her eyelids fluttered closed in agonizing anticipation.

The doorknob turned. Ali heard footsteps, but she didn’t care. Nothing could break her focus on the man hovering millimeters from her lips.

Nothing except Roz’s disgusted tone. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Connor backed slowly away, taking all the warmth in the room with him. Someone needed to teach the witch to knock.

“I wish I had bleach to splash in my eyes,” Roz said, crossing the room and setting several paper bags on the table. “I’ll never recover from what I just saw.” She opened her cache, and the rich, mouth-watering smells of spicy food filled the living room. “I brought dinner.”

The idea of a hot meal blew all other thoughts from Ali’s mind. Kisses, shmisses. She needed nourishment. She hadn’t eaten much of her sandwich at lunch.

“It smells great,” Ali said, joining her at the long dining table.

Connor hovered near the flat screen, staring holes through the rug.

“Veggie egg rolls, chicken, rice, and broccoli.” Roz unpacked cartons of steaming food. “And I stopped by the butcher’s.” She handed Connor a heavy, wrinkled paper sack.

He lifted a jar of blood half out, and his whole body reacted with a jolt. He rushed for the bathroom, but he didn’t make it before he’d torn the lid from the jar and gulped down huge mouthfuls of blood. Seconds ticked by as he swallowed, making sloppy, angry noises in the back of his throat.

He dropped the jar onto the floor where it rolled at his feet, empty. For a long few seconds he stood, his back to the room, his chest heaving. Finally, he faced them. And she sucked in a horrified breath.

He looked like a monster.

Chapter Fourteen

Ali couldn’t move, couldn’t even think straight for a solid three seconds because Connor stared at her with wild, desperate eyes as dark blood dripped down his chin.

“Connor?” Roz’s sharp tone brought him back to himself. He blinked down at his bloodstained shirt and then at the empty jar.

“I didn’t mean to.” Without elaborating, he locked himself in the bathroom and ran the water in the sink.

Ali glanced at Roz, but neither said what they were both thinking.
He’s not okay
.

Roz dug for silverware, and then portioned out food as if nothing whatsoever was wrong. Ali accepted a plate of steaming Chinese food, but she couldn’t eat. Connor had looked like a feral cat caught enjoying a fresh kill, like he’d growl if she got any closer. Or attack. Was that normal? Did all vampires lose themselves when they fed?

The sink in the bathroom went quiet, and he stepped out, his face and hair damp. He saw Ali first, and then his gaze fell upon Roz. He crossed the room and pulled her tightly to his chest.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

“That was too close,” the witch whispered back, her hands winding around his waist.

“I’m sorry.”

“You were hungry. I could see it in your face.”

A jolt of jealousy hit Ali right between the eyes. They had something, a special bond that Ali would never be a part of. Not that she wanted to be. She was going home. Today. Maybe tomorrow. And yet, the feeling remained.

Ali pretended to be fascinated with the different cartons of food while she listened to every word they spoke.

“I need you here,” Connor groaned at the witch. “You have no idea how much.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Roz gave him a last pat on the back and extricated herself from his embrace. “You’re the only family I have left.” She said it so softly, Ali knew she wasn’t meant to overhear it.

“I’m going to take my shower,” Roz said.

He changed his shirt, again, and then yanked on a pair of heavy-duty work boots as if he had somewhere to be all of a sudden.

“The blood helped.” Connor gestured toward the fallen jar. “But I need more.”

Ali took a step in his direction. “I’ll go with you.” She didn’t want to sit in the hotel room with Roz. It didn’t have anything to do with her new vampire fantasy. It had to do with scoping out the bus depot and the taxi situation. Nothing else.

He grabbed the carton of veggie rolls, jabbed a fork down among them, and handed it to her. “Let’s go.”

She gladly accepted the food and stuffed another morsel in her mouth as she followed him to the lift and out into the street. Connor’s strides ate up the concrete, and she had to jog to keep up.

The noise and lights of the Strip, even this early in the evening, were disorienting.

“Do you know where you’re going?” she asked.

“I’ll find it.” He laid his finger on the tip of his nose.

Oh, right. Super senses.

Casinos with plinking slot machines and groups of people in heated discussions whipped by. “Can you slow down?” she called.

He bowed his head, waiting for her to catch up. “Sorry.” When he continued, his pace matched hers.

“Thanks.” She chewed her food, her mind still in the hotel room and on that hug.
I need you
. “So, you and Roz,” she blurted out. “Have you ever…?”

“No. We’re best friends.” He winced. “That sounds so lame.”

Ali didn’t think so. Connor loved the witch. Even if their relationship remained platonic forever, they shared more than some couples she knew. A twinge of regret vibrated along her skin. She’d never had a best friend, male or female.

“I know what you mean,” Ali said. “You love her.”

“Of course.” He shrugged. “But not like that.”

“How did you two meet?” She was gathering information, nothing more. Harmless curiosity. She wasn’t jealous.

“In college.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but there’s got to be more to it.”

“She dated my friend, Tyler.”

“Okay.” It was a start. “And you asked her to travel the country with you?”

“Not exactly.” Connor paused at the corner of the next intersection, checking left and then right. He reached down and clasped her hand, leading her across the busy street. Their skin rubbed, her softer palm against his rougher one, creating a friction that reverberated all the way up her arm.

She rolled the last bite of egg roll from the carton into her mouth, quick, before she moaned aloud and embarrassed herself. “What, then?”

“We were all at a party.” He released her hand. “Tyler was showing off, messing around on the balcony. He fell.”

Oh, God. “Was he okay?”

“No.” Connor led her around an older couple, and then sidestepped a vender’s cart. “He was dying, or already dead, by the time we all got downstairs. Someone ran for the resident advisor. Roz called her power and spoke healing spells over him.”

Ali had never been to parties in London in her normal life. She wasn’t allowed. But if someone had witched out in front of her, she would’ve freaked. Probably run for it. For the first time she felt a teeny tiny twinge of sympathy for Roz.

“I’d been trying to find someone to come with me for a while, ever since my prophecy went public. Rumors spread about me. But when Roz outed herself, she became a freak like me. I figured she had nothing to lose by coming with me.”

Ali could spill her guts right here, right now.
I’m a freak, too
. But her dad’s lessons were too entrenched. The darkness inside her was evil. If she revealed it, she’d be subject to ridicule, disgust, and then experimentation. No one could ever find out. Not even Connor.

“What about Tyler?” she asked. “Did she heal him?”

“He died.”

“So, she revealed her magic for nothing.” Roz had risked a lot to help her friend. Witches weren’t common. None of the supernaturals were. And most of the time, if someone was a witch, a shifter, or an indestructible, they kept it to themselves.

“Did you know she was a witch before that night?”

“Nope.” He pulled open the door to a brightly lit casino, one of the older establishments that smelled like sweat and smoke. They weaved around blinking quarter machines toward the rear. Beside the bar, Connor opened a swinging door, held it for Ali, and then followed her into a dimly lit industrial kitchen.

He nodded at a man in a chef’s hat, and they spoke in hushed voices. The chef disappeared through another door, and Connor kept his broad back to Ali.

Tubs of sausages, steaks, and chicken parts covered stainless steel counters, so Ali stuck close to the door and tried not to breathe too deeply. She’d never been able to handle the smell of fresh meat, even before she’d become a vegetarian. Quickly, she tossed the remains of her dinner into a trash bin.

The chef returned with two plastic cartons of blood and wrapped them in brown paper bags. Connor paid him with wrinkled bills, and they left the way they’d come.

After holding the door for her, Connor stepped onto the sidewalk, chose a carton, and kept it covered with the bag while he gulped down the contents. He didn’t vamp out this time, though. His control was back. He dropped the empty jar into a trashcan. The second one, he stuffed under one arm.

A certain, nameless tension eased out from his neck and shoulders. The blood had calmed him. He was a far cry from the predator who’d stared at her like she was a raw steak earlier in the day.

“After the accident,” Ali said, falling into step beside him, “you looked at me funny.”

He stared straight ahead, but a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Did I?”

It may not be the smartest idea to prod, but she had to know. Because she couldn’t keep having these absurd fantasies without knowing the truth. “Were you thinking about taking my blood?”

Connor shook his head. “No. I was hungry, but not starving.”

He’d appeared worse than hungry. He’d been a wolf eyeing a yummy rabbit. “Then why?”

“It’s your scent.”

She blinked. “My what?”

“You smell good to me.” Connor shifted his wrapped carton of blood from one arm to the other. “More than good.”

That didn’t make any sense. “But you don’t want my blood?”

He sent her a look, a scorching, electric once over, ending at her eyes.

A shiver burst along the back of Ali’s neck and spread down her spine.

Men came into the shop where she worked all the time to buy jewelry for their mothers, wives, or girlfriends. And they flirted with her, despite the fact that she dressed like a Mennonite and sucked at flirting. But they smiled, told her jokes, and complimented her eyes or her smile. It had always made her feel skeevy. Not now. She’d never, ever overheated from a man’s look before. Never felt her insides uncurl like the petals of a lily. But this man, this tall, sexy beast, made her body positively hum.

And he liked the way she smelled.

Connor lost their staring contest, motioning her to keep moving. Right away, he out-paced her, but this time she let him. With no shame, she ran her eyes over his body. God, those jeans should be illegal. They were faded and frayed at the hems, but they fit him like…

Well, Ali didn’t know.

They showed off the muscled length of his thighs and the work of art that was his ass. She blushed, clasping her hands at her waist. She’d never appreciated a man’s rear end before. When women joked about them, she’d always felt slightly nauseous. Suddenly, she understood.

The only boy—she used the term literally—she’d slept with had been sweet, but boring. He’d grunted a lot. It hadn’t exactly been titillating stuff. In fact, fantasies about Connor were more stimulating than her first time. The muscles along Connor’s shoulders rippled and bunched. God, she could watch him walk for hours.

After half a block, he stalled and waited for her to catch up.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m still getting used to the new stuff.”

“Right.”

Do not get a crush on this guy, this headed-for-an-early-grave hottie
. So, he didn’t say much. And he had beautiful eyes. So what? He was beyond dangerous. Because no matter how tightly she’d hold on to him, he’d always be slipping away.

The best thing was to get home and return to her normal life. Part of her may want to coil around him like a python, but the sane parts knew it was almost time to say good-bye or risk staying too long.

“After the UNLV library,” Ali said, “I’m going home.”

Connor laughed, a surprised snort.

She frowned, but plowed on. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“You can’t leave.” At her stunned expression, he added, “Yet.”

“I’ll have to borrow some money,” she said, as if he hadn’t just shot down her plans. Really, what was the problem? She was a legal adult. It shouldn’t be any of his business what she did from there on out. “I can take a bus to Los Angeles. I can visit the British consulate there.”

“It’s not the money.” Connor was flustered, stuttering his words. “I’ll give you money.” He rested his hands on his hips and studied the concrete. He was exactly the right height, tall enough she’d have to stand on tip-toe to kiss him. She wanted to taste the skin of his throat. She wanted to lick him.

Ali faltered a step. She wasn’t the kind of girl to have wild, meaningless vacation sex. And she had no business licking his anything.

He looked up. “Don’t you want to know who you are?”

There went the shivers again. Damn it all to hell. “I’m Alina Rusenko, born in Odessa, Ukraine.”

“Okay. Then I need to know who you are.”

“I just told you who I am.” Was he being obstinate on purpose? This wasn’t a joke. She had to get home, pay her rent, return to her job, and deal with the fallout of her family’s murders. She was still settling her dad’s estate. She hadn’t even boxed up his flat yet.