He looked up and met his Beta’s gaze, and his Beta submissively looked down, but there was a sullen hint of defiance there. And his Omega was hiding a smirk.
I will taste the blood of your children. Let’s see who’s smirking then.
Chapter Three
Celeste wandered through the lobby of Mystic Lodge, trying to figure out why the heck security was so tight. It looked like a normal group of people – men and women wandering through the building, chatting, talking on their cell phones, flirting with each other…not doing anything sinister. But she was getting very odd looks, and she couldn’t figure out what kind of group this was.
She’d found Grant in the small town of Pineview a few days ago, when she’d searched for his name on the internet and a picture of him shopping downtown had popped up on a social media site. She’d driven to Pineview with Jeffrey, seen Grant driving in town, and snuck a GPS tracker under his car when he was shopping. That was how she’d found out he was staying at Mystic Lodge.
After getting her fire inspector disguise together that morning, she’d left Jeffrey at a drop-in daycare in Pineview. She’d promised to come right back, but he’d sat in the corner, sullen and furious. She hated to leave him, but she was afraid if she brought him here and Grant rejected him to his face, he’d be heartbroken. Leaving him in a safe place for a few hours felt like the lesser of two evils.
She was fortunate that she’d showed up prepared, because she never would have been able to talk her way in otherwise. Her job at Harrison, Inc. had involved testing site security at major corporations. She’d showed up in various disguises at supposedly secure buildings and talked her way past the front desk receptionists, past security guards, past janitors. She’d been part of a cleaning crew, or with a catering company, delivering flowers or birthday cakes or pizza…and nine times out of ten, she’d waltzed right in.
To get into Mystic Lodge, she’d dressed up as a fire inspector. She had an excellent fake ID printed up. When the guard at the gate had informed her that the event had been booked for a private group and she’d have to come back next month, she’d threatened to contact the County and get the lodge shut down for non-compliance. She’d also promised that she’d make the inspection quick and it was really just a formality, so he’d reluctantly let her in – after retreating to his booth, calling up to the lodge, and making her wait for a good twenty minutes. It was like he was warning them that she was coming, giving them time to hide and cover up…what?
She’d figure it out one way or another.
And now she was being followed around by the woman who’d apparently been assigned as her babysitter. Yasmine. A very pretty woman with long, shiny, blue-black hair, perfectly penciled eyebrows, and an annoyed expression. She was practically stalking her – literally, like a cat would stalk a mouse.
“Excuse me. Will you be much longer?” Yasmine snapped at her.
“It will take as long as it takes,” Celeste said coolly.
“Which is how long, exactly?” Yasmine stepped much too close to her, trying to intimidate her. Good luck with that. Celeste had spent her entire childhood and adolescence not only being the new kid at school every few months, but being the new foster kid with the mismatched, patched-up clothing. She’d had her share of beatings, until she’d learned how to defend herself and Jennifer from the kids at school, from the kids in their group homes, and from their own foster parents.
Instead of backing up, Celeste took a step towards Yasmine and bumped into her. Yasmine made a weird snarling noise, almost like an animal, then glanced around self-consciously. “What the hell are you doing?” she bleated.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this was National Don’t Respect Anybody’s Personal Space Day. I was just joining in.”
Yasmine’s lip curled in contempt. “You haven’t told me when you’re leaving.”
“No, I haven’t. Oh, crud!” Celeste glanced down at her clipboard.
“Now what?” Yasmine said with irritation.
“I totally lost count of how many exits I’ve inspected. Now I have to start all over again from the beginning.”
Yasmine arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be writing it down?”
“Under normal circumstances, yes, I would, but somebody keeps hovering directly over me, bumping into me so I can’t write and getting in my way. It’s starting to make me think you all have something to hide. Do you have something to hide?” She raised her voice very, very loud as she said that, drawing disapproving glances from several people who were walking by. One of them, an older man who’d been hovering in the background, hurried over.
“Yasmine. Back off and let her do her work so she can leave. You were asked to show her around, not get in her way. If you can’t do your job, let me know. We can always send you home.” The man gave her a look of contempt that showed that Celeste wasn’t the only person annoyed by Yasmine’s behavior.
“First I’m going to go use the ladies room,” Celeste said. “I assume you’re not going to follow me in there,” she added to Yasmine. Before Yasmine or the older man could answer, she hurried off to use the bathroom.
Once she was in a stall, she shut the door, sat down on the toilet seat, and set her clipboard down, massaging her temples. What was going on here? What was Grant doing here, and what were these people up to? The air was bristling with tension, and everywhere she went, conversations stopped mid-sentence and people watched her with wary, suspicious eyes.
She wondered if it had something to do with Jeffrey’s odd…condition. She’d asked Jeffrey about the pointy teeth and pointy ears – which had vanished almost as soon as they’d appeared – and he’d muttered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” When she’d tried to push the issue, he’d said, “I need to go pee. Right now,” and hurried off to the bathroom.
That was one of the things she’d planned on asking Grant Bronson about. That was until she’d repeatedly left messages for him at the Mystic Lodge over the past few days – and he’d ignored every one. Messages telling him that hehad a son.
Was he really that hard-hearted? Could there have been some mistake? Maybe he wasn’t getting the messages?
She needed to know what kind of man Grant really was before she decided whether she should tell him about Jeffrey. If he was a drunk or a drug addict or if he beat up his girlfriends – she wouldn’t subject Jeffrey to that.
So she’d spent the last ten days stalking Grant, both online and in real life, while she and Jeffrey lived in motel rooms.
What she’d found out wasn’t exactly reassuring. He was a total Casanova, always being photographed with beautiful women on his arm. She could see why. Even caught in the harsh flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras, he was heart-stoppingly gorgeous. Chiseled features, dark hair worn just a little too long so that it was allowed to curl, and a sly curve to his full pink lips that matched the wicked glint in his narrow, dark-lashed eyes. Eyes the color of whiskey. He was obviously used to breaking hearts, and she had no intention of letting him break Jeffrey’s.
