Immortal Craving (Dark Dynasties) (9 page)

“You want me gone?
Fine
. With pleasure.”

“Tasmin, wait,” Ty began. But it was too late for that. Tasmin shoved through Eric and Ty, feeling a brief, welcome instant of relief that they let him go without a fight. He had the vaguest impression of Eric stepping after him, of Ty holding Eric back, but then there was only the blessed release of his body’s shifting form, lengthening, stretching. The lion roared through him like fire as he picked up speed, springing into a run. He hit the top of the stairs on foot.

He hit the bottom on four massive paws.

Tasmin’s perception changed, became simpler. His senses sharpened, and all of his pain and fury and fear receded just enough to focus on the single most important task at hand.

Getting out.

There was a startled yelp from someone who had spotted him. He ignored it, all his attention on the front door. It slammed open as though there was a strong wind, and Tasmin bounded through it, paws hitting the cold, hard ground outside. He rushed into the dark, into the cold night air that was far less brutal now that he wore his fur, hot breath rising as steam in the dark. All he wanted was to run until he dropped… until he could finally escape the one who had become his biggest enemy.

Himself.

Ty and Eric appeared in the open doorway, watching him vanish.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Eric said.

Ty tracked the last, faint flash of golden fur before Tasmin rounded the corner, then shook his head. A lion’s roar, one of the most anguished sounds Ty thought he had ever heard, echoed to the cold stars above.

“You’re telling me.”

B
AY STOOD AT THE WINDOW
, watching the snow begin to drift down from the sky in fat, lazy flakes, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. She smiled and took a sip from the warm mug she held in both hands, savoring the taste of chocolate and cream as it hit her tongue. Hot cocoa had definitely been the right choice for tonight. In a couple of months, once the holidays had passed, she knew she’d groan at the sight of a single snowflake. But tonight, this first snowfall was magical.

Grimm sat beside her, gazing regally out onto his domain. Bay reached a hand down and stroked his head. There was nothing better than watching the snow inside a warm house with cocoa and a dog. She already had the fire going. Maybe she’d put on something classic, like Sinatra, and curl up on the couch. It should have been movie night, but Lily, not surprisingly, had canceled.

Bay tried not to hold it against her. Lily’s new duties took a lot out of her, and last night had been… tough.
Their brief conversation earlier had been way too polite, doing a lousy job of covering up hurt feelings on both sides. It was so frustrating. Why couldn’t they just
talk
anymore without all of this crazy vampire stuff getting in the way? Of course, it wasn’t like Lily needed to lean on Bay as much, now that she had such a well-matched partner in Ty.

Bay frowned and took another sip of her cocoa. Yeah, she was a little jealous. She could admit it. Who wouldn’t be? She kept waiting for a mortal version of Ty or Jaden or hell, even that mouthy assassin Damien to show up and do the whole “you complete me” routine. Instead, even the guys who should be a natural match for her, like the cute ghost hunter she’d gone out with a few times last year, turned out to be duds in some way.

He hadn’t been living in his mom’s basement, at least. But he hadn’t made her heart race either.

A pair of big, intense golden eyes flickered through her thoughts, and she sighed, trying to think of something else even as her treacherous heart skipped a beat. Wanting a knock-you-on-your-ass love affair was one thing. Willfully chasing after a leave-you-a-shattered-wreck-of-a-human affair was a path she didn’t want to go down.

But he was at the mansion, getting his answers. Soon enough he’d blow town. Life would go on. Things would get back to normal, she told herself. Eventually.

Bay’s mind drifted as she sipped the cocoa, and it took her a moment before realizing that Grimm had stiffened beside her, his ears perking. He gave a low, barely audible growl. Curious, Bay looked out onto the silent street. It was so late that she felt like she had the night to herself.
Nothing moved but the snow, drifting gently in a light breeze. She blinked. And then he was just… there.

Bay froze, and nearly dropped her mug.

Tasmin stood in her yard, shoulders hunched against the cold. And no wonder—he wore no jacket, no shoes. Just a T-shirt and jeans. He stared at her, the gold of his eyes so much brighter than the streetlights, and the look on his face was utterly lost.

She felt herself responding to it, opening to him, and gave a soft groan. She remembered every word Ty and Lily had said to her in private about the other day and how badly it could have ended. They were right. She knew it.

So why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone?

Grimm whined beside her, getting to his feet and looking from the window to her. His tail thumped against the glass. It finally got her moving.

“Yeah, I’m going to go see what he wants,” she said, barely managing to pull her eyes from Tasmin. It was only a few steps to the door, but part of her was certain that when she opened it he’d be gone, a hallucination… and she’d be better off for it. She had no business letting him back in. Not alone, at any rate.

And yet here they were again. With a resigned sigh, Bay turned the knob and opened the door.

The breeze was light, but bitter cold, and scented with snow. It rippled over the bare skin of her arms, right through her thin cami and flannel pants, making her shiver. She took a couple steps out onto the porch, wrapping her arms around herself, and looked to her right.

She let out a shaking breath, the steam from its warmth rising in front of her face when all she saw was the empty
street, an empty yard. Maybe she really
had
imagined him. Maybe—

“Bailey.”

She yelped and jumped at the soft caress of his voice, then spun. He was on the porch.
Behind
her. Looking every inch as miserable as he had through the window, which was the only thing that kept her from shouting at him. Instead, she pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding beneath.

“Damn it, Tasmin, you scared me!”

To his credit, he actually managed to look sorry, dropping his head a little. His voice was perfectly clear in the biting air. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

She raised her eyebrows and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing the bare skin to try and warm herself.

“If you thought I’d be sleeping, then why did you come?” Bay asked. She looked at him more closely then, and even in the dark she noted a couple of disturbing things: he looked very cold, and he was beginning to shiver. Small wonder, she guessed, considering how he was dressed. But she didn’t think weather really affected vampires
this
much.

Apparently she’d been wrong.

For a moment he looked as though he might answer, but finally, he simply shrugged and said, “I was in the area.”

Bay wasn’t sure whether to laugh or beat her head against the wall. He knew why he was here. She suspected it was because he couldn’t think of anyplace else he might be welcome. Not the most flattering reason for her, but it could have been worse. And he’d thought of her, which was sweet. And—

They stared at one another, and Bay felt her skin prickle with an awareness that had nothing to do with the cold. She felt pulled toward him in a way that was completely unfamiliar to her. She loved men and the sometimes dizzying attraction that went along with them. It was fun… and it never meant anything.

Everything about Tasmin felt deadly serious. Even the heat between them.

“You should come inside,” Bay said. “It’s cold out here.”

Tasmin’s surprise was obvious. It made her wonder even more why he’d come here, if he thought she’d just make him stand out here. Was he that used to rejection?

It bothered her to think that he might be.

“It probably isn’t a good idea,” he said.

“Yes, well, we established that last night,” Bay replied. “Lucky for you, I don’t listen very well. Just looking at you is going to make me freeze to death.” She sighed, utterly flustered. “Just… come in.”

He hesitated, then, to her shock, shivered so hard it nearly took him down. He was colder than she’d realized. Irritation at his stubbornness overrode any remaining doubt. She planted one hand on her hip and pointed at the door.

“Get. Inside. Now.”

He snorted, his breath rising between them.

“You are a very bossy woman. I don’t take orders.”

“Then
decide
to move your feet in the direction of my door. Your free will at work. Problem solved. It’s freezing.”

He shivered again while he considered this, looking at her door like it was simultaneously the most wonderful and the most horrifying thing he’d ever seen. Bay began
to seriously consider smacking him and then shoving him inside.

She stepped closer, hoping she was at least a tiny bit intimidating. Instead, Bay found her mouth dropping open when she got a better look at him. Tasmin’s cinnamon skin, close up, was ashen, his lips faintly blue.

“How long have you been out here like this?”

He might be part lion, but his look was mulish. “A while.”

She grabbed the bare skin of Tasmin’s forearm, quietly alarmed at how icy it was, and pulled him inside. To his credit, he seemed to know it was time to relent. His shoulders slumped, and he couldn’t suppress his groan of pleasure when the warm air enveloped him.

Bay shut the door, flipped the dead bolt, and turned around to see Grimm doing his I’m-so-happy-to-see-you dance, totally oblivious to the fact that the object of his affection was more than halfway to being a vampire Popsicle. She heard Tasmin’s teeth begin to chatter as Grimm circled him, happily wrapping his big, bulky body around the man’s legs and panting excitedly.

“Grimm, no,” Bay said, stepping forward to try and deter him. “Come on, scoot. Let him be. He’s not interested right now.”

Grimm, true to form, completely ignored her.

“At least he’s warm,” Tasmin shivered out.

“You won’t like it so much if he decides to lie on you,” Bay said, pushing the dog out of the way with her hip and taking one of Tasmin’s icy hands in hers. He didn’t seem to be warming up at all.

“Did something—no, you know what, never mind. You need heat,” Bay said, setting aside her interest in what
had possessed him to be out in the cold like this tonight. That could wait.

“The fireplace is on,” she said. “You remember the way.”

It was a mark of how depleted he was that he didn’t even bother to argue as she led him into the family room, tugging on his hand.

His bare feet were silent on the wood floors as she led him down the hall. She was very aware of his hand in hers, and of the fact that he made no attempt to pull away. The skin warmed against her own, but slowly. When they rounded the corner to her big, comfy furniture and the glowing fire, she let him go, though reluctantly.

“You know the drill,” she said. “Get comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, and she couldn’t decide whether the tone in his voice was suspicion or worry.

“Blankets,” she explained. “You could use one or… five. I’ll only be a minute. They’re upstairs.”

Relief, clear as day, softened the harsh set of his features. He nodded. “Then I will sit.” From the way he crumpled onto the couch, Bay didn’t think he’d really had much choice.

She left the room and hurried up the stairs. Grimm didn’t follow, apparently more interested in showering their guest with affection. Typical. She felt a little bad about leaving Tasmin to deal with the slobber king, but he was right—at least the dog was warm.

She opened the linen closet at the end of the hall, pulled out a couple of thick, fleecy blankets she sometimes liked to curl up in, and then as an afterthought made a quick
dash into her bedroom to grab something out of a drawer before heading back downstairs. When she reached the family room, Bay stopped short, eyes widening. It took her a few seconds to process what she was seeing.

Grimm, not content with whatever level of acknowledgement Tasmin had given him thus far, had piled onto the couch beside the shivering vampire and draped himself across Tasmin’s lap. That, in and of itself, wasn’t all that surprising. When Grimm decided he liked someone, he went all out. What had Bay’s feet frozen to the floor was Tasmin’s reaction. He had his arms wrapped around Grimm’s massive bulk, and his face was half-buried in the thick fur of the dog’s neck. Most of Tasmin’s face was concealed, but she could see his eyes were closed, his full mouth softened from the tense way he usually held it.

He looked weary, vulnerable, and heart-wrenchingly gorgeous as he clung to the dog as though it was the only thing anchoring him here.

Bay drew in a soft, shaky breath, trying to get her bearings. Something about Tasmin seemed to hit every single one of her hot buttons. Seeing him hug her dog didn’t just hit those buttons, it slammed a fist down on them.

Tasmin’s eye opened to fix on her, and he sat up, looking embarrassed while he tried to disentangle himself. Grimm panted happily, keeping his one hundred and thirty pounds right where they were.

“He, ah, did this himself. I did tell him no,” Tasmin said.

“He has selective hearing. It’s okay,” Bay replied, forcing her feet to move forward. She looked at Grimm. “Off.”

The dog waited a moment to see whether she was serious. When she narrowed her eyes and pointed at the floor,
Grimm managed to get himself down, going only a couple of feet before letting his paws slide out from under him and flopping to the floor with a sigh. Tasmin watched the interplay, looking fascinated.

“That wasn’t the reaction I got when
I
told him ‘off.’ ”

“Because I meant it. You didn’t. Besides, I’m scary,” Bay said, shaking open the blankets. “Looking nonthreatening is part of what makes me dangerous. Here. You need these.”