He licked his lips. “I’ll be there, and I’ll make sure I’m ready for anything.”
Once they said their goodbyes, Jason walked the periphery of his penthouse, ensuring every door and window was locked. Nickelova was one fish he hoped would get away for good. Far, far away. He hadn’t known she was a fairy when he slept with her. Hell, he hadn’t known her at all. They’d met at a bar, and he’d forgotten her first name almost immediately after they screwed. But she played him for a fool. She’d been helping the wolf responsible for the death of his parents and his potential mate. No doubt Alex still wanted to kill Silas and gain control of the Lycanthropic Society. Considering Nickelova had used Jason before for information and to lure Silas out of hiding, all three of them were potential targets.
Jason rubbed his chest, a wave of guilt dragging him under again. He should have been more careful. He should have known Nickelova was supernatural. His vice, his need for sex to calm his beast, had almost been his pack’s undoing.
He finished off the bottle of wine, too antsy to work, and flopped onto his bed, the hour and the alcohol finally catching up to him. “A service to the pack,” he mumbled as he drifted off. “The traumatized prince.” Well, he couldn’t argue with the trauma part. He fell asleep, fully clothed, the empty wine bottle still in his hand.
ChapterThree
The blare of his phone’s ringtone forced Jason’s eyes open and he blinked rapidly against the lure of sleep. Four thirty a.m. Who the hell was calling him at this hour? His hand slapped clumsily at the phone, knocking the empty wine bottle he’d been sleeping with to the floor. It made a hollow sound as it rolled across the hardwood and clinked into the wall. Heavy with sleep, he fumbled with the device, desperate to stop the ringing. Somehow he managed to tap the screen and manipulate it close enough to his ear to be effective.
“Mr. Flynn? It’s the night doorman. I have a Teresa in the lobby for you.”
Teresa. Who the hell was Teresa? “Uh, who?”
“Redhead,” the doorman whispered.
“Oh. From the gatehouse.” He hesitated. “Send her up.” He owed her a drink and an explanation.
Jason rolled out of bed and visited the bathroom. Considering he planned to send her away as soon as he could politely do so, he didn’t stress over his appearance. He quickly combed his dark hair, swished some mouthwash to combat morning breath, and dripped Visine into his eyes to get the red out. Then he changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. When the knock came, he was already at the door. She was still wearing her Bachman Building uniform, her smile taking up more than its share of real estate on her face. He invited her in and offered her a drink. One drink and then he’d explain and send her on her way.
“Wine,” she said. “Whatever you have that’s good.”
“Make yourself at home.” He drifted to the bar, leaving her standing awkwardly in the center of the room. He’d finished off the white, so he selected a bottle of red, Pinot Noir, and reached for the corkscrew.
“Do you live here full time?” Teresa asked, staring at the oatmeal couch, lips parted slightly.
He was surprised by the question. “Last time I checked. Why?”
She turned in a circle. “But, I mean, um, did you move in recently?”
Oh, she was commenting on the decor or lack of it. “Warm minimalism,” he said. He finished pouring and crossed the room to hand her the glass.
“Huh?”
“The design. Clean lines. Simple decor. It’s supposed to make you feel like you are the most important and interesting thing in the room.”
Her lips twitched, a blush creeping from beneath her collar. Her gaze raked up his body. “I think it’s working.”
Fuck. Why did she have to look at him like that? He backed away from her toward the kitchen.
“Aren’t you drinking?” she asked.
“I, uh, need to be honest about something.” He gestured toward the sofa for her to sit. She glanced from her glass to the furniture, seemingly uncomfortable with drinking red wine on white upholstery. Eventually she sat down anyway, settling on the edge of the middle cushion.
“I never do this,” she said through a smile. “I’m probably breaking some kind of rule coming up here.”
“No one in this building will say a word to you. This is my fault.” He perched on the arm of the sofa, calculating how far he needed to stay from her to keep his wolf at bay. This was a mistake. Inviting her up here was like an alcoholic inviting a bottle of whiskey for breakfast. His wolf wanted sex. It didn’t matter who she was or what she looked like. The impulse was feral and intense enough this morning to make his hands tremble. And as much as he wanted to be polite, he needed to send her away,pronto. “I think you should go.”
Understandably confused, she gave her head a firm shake. “What? I just got here.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know. I’m… I shouldn’t have invited you up here. It’s not a good time. I’m sorry.”
Lips parting, she covered her eyes with one hand as if she didn’t want him to see her cry. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her.
“Teresa? Are you all right?” When she didn’t respond, he tentatively rested a hand on her shoulder. “Teresa?”
After a beat, the woman lowered her hand, and all kinds of freaky hit the walls. Her eyes werewhite. Solid white and glowing like 60-watt incandescents.
