So it was strange when she drifted to sleep beside him then woke when her mattress moved.
He tucked the blanket around her. “I must go, Snowflake.”
She glanced at her bedside clock. He didn’t have much time before dawn.
She sat up. “Will you make it?”
“Concerned?” he asked.
She gave herself a mental curse and found her poise again. “Of course. I hate dusting.”
His mouth tightened in a way she was beginning to recognize as his smile, small and subtle though it was.
“I will see you tonight,” he said.
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. “I am glad you let me stay.”
Thank God, he turned away. He didn’t see the startled look on her face, a look that wasn’t entirely a reaction to his words; it was a reaction to the way her stomach flipped when he said them. She was a werewolf. Her stomach didn’t do flips. Ever. It did rage. It did retaliation. It did threats and punishment and a host of other things that ended in death and destruction. It didn’t do anything… weak.
What the hell was wrong with her?
13
Deagan dropped into the seat across from her.
She raised her eyebrows.
“He is not here.”
She waited, but Deagan didn’t elaborate. Usually, if Jared didn’t greet her when she stepped inside Swirl, Deagan or Laila or another one of his vampires would tell her he was on his way. Apparently, that wasn’t true today.
She would not show disappointment. She would not even feel it.
She rose to leave.
“Ms. Lehr,” Deagan said.
When he motioned for her to sit again, her wolf demanded she ignore him. She didn’t comply with requests from vampires—except Jared in very specific circumstances—but after a moment, she sank back into her chair.
Deagan studied her, one ringed finger tapping a slow rhythm on the table. “You may be good for him. Or I may need to kill you.”
She kept her expression cold. “Is that all you wanted to say?”
“Oh no.” His finger stopped tapping. “I have a great deal more I would love to say. However, my master would be miffed if I broached certain topics.”
“Miffed?”
“It happens on occasion.” He waved the word away. “What are your intentions?”
She snorted. “You want to know my intentions with Jared?”
“Yes.”
She smiled, showing teeth. “I intend to use him for as long as I like.”
“As he is using you,” Deagan said. “However, he isn’t drinking from you. He doesn’t drink from many these days.”
