OmegaMine (12 page)

“Arms up,” he instructed and slid the garment down her torso
when she did as he asked. Her head popped through the collar and he grinned as
her hair scattered in all directions, a few wisps falling across her forehead.

“What are you grinning at?” She scowled, shoved the too-long
sleeves to her elbows and combed her fingers through her mop of hair.

“Not a thing,” he answered evasively and slid into a pair of
well-worn jeans, going commando.

She watched the teeth of the zipper slide past tanned skin
and the thatch of ebony hair and experienced a fresh wave of desire. That
zipper was going in the wrong direction entirely. In fact, she’d love nothing
more than to rip the denim off his hips, fall to her knees and give him a
proper good morning…

“I hope you’re hungry. I made breakfast for lunch.”

“Breakfast for lunch?” She shook her head clear of the
sexual fog. “What time is it?”

“It was a quarter to two when I came upstairs.”

Her stomach sank and all sexual thought dissipated.

Two o’clock?
Damn
!

She rushed out of the bathroom, chanting “shoes, shoes,
shoes”, aware of Diskant’s baffled expression, which quickly became impatient.
After she retrieved her socks and sneakers, she perched on the edge of the
mattress and hurriedly put them on. She never slept late, always able to rely
on the inner cuckoo clock that roused her just after seven each morning. It
figured she’d break from the norm when it came to something important. If she
was late to sign the papers, Thomas wouldn’t stick around. He would take the
deed to the cabin and shop it elsewhere.

Thomas waited for no one—including family and especially
her.

One hour was all she had to travel from the Upper East Side
to Maybelle’s Diner in Queens. There was a slim chance she could make it if she
got a taxi, paid extra for a bit of speed and went directly there. She started
to look for her purse and cursed. Her cell was in her pants, as were her keys,
but her money was inside her locker at work. She didn’t have the fare to pay
for the trip.

“Do you think you’re going somewhere?” Diskant didn’t pose
the question in a manner that implied he would accept anything less than an
answer.

She quickly tied the laces. “I’m supposed to meet someone in
less than an hour.”

“Can you call and postpone?” Damn he sounded intense when he
was annoyed, like a wild bear coming across a lone hunter in the woods.

Shaking her head, she stood. “No. Thomas won’t stick around
if I’m not there when I promised to be, and he won’t answer his cell just to
spite me. I need to call a cab. Do you think you can spot me the fare? I can
pay you—”

“
Who the fuck is Thomas
?”

That got her attention.

She turned and focused on Diskant. His gold irises were like
liquid metal, shining so brightly she couldn’t help the instinctive reaction to
place a hand to her throat and take a cautionary step back. He’d sworn that
shifters wouldn’t hurt their mates—if, in fact, that was what she was to
him—but considering the way he looked right now, primed and ready to kill, that
fact didn’t reassure her much.

Swallowing convulsively, she squared her shoulders, managed
to summon some courage and narrowed her eyes in turn. “Don’t be a Neanderthal.
Thomas is my brother.”

The tension in the room eased as the glow in his eyes faded
and the harsh lines around his lips and eyes receded. He started walking toward
her and it took every ounce of pride and determination not to shy away when he
reached out. His fingers were gentle on her elbows, palms barely cupping her
forearms.

When he spoke, his voice was strained. “I apologize. I’m
still struggling for control when it comes to you, and when you mentioned
another male… You’re going to have to be patient with me. In case you haven’t
noticed, I’m not one to share.” His right hand traveled up her arm, coming to a
stop as he draped his hand possessively around her nape and twined his fingers
in the damp strands of hair. “Where are you supposed to meet him?”

Licking her suddenly parched lips, she whispered,
“Maybelle’s Diner.”

“The Cajun place in Queens?” She nodded and he pulled her
forward, bent at the waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let me finish
getting dressed and we’ll go. We can make it if we take the bike.”

“But—” She started to argue and he placed a firm finger
against her lips.

“No buts. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not until we
are fully bonded. You might as well get used to the idea of having me around.”

Another “but” lingered on the tip of her tongue, along with
a multitude of questions, but she chose to nod instead. Now wasn’t the time to
discuss their relationship or delve into the complexities of what he referred
to as bonding. Her parents’ cabin was the last thing she had left from her
childhood and there was no way in hell she was letting that slip away. Thomas
would hate the fact that she’d brought someone along for the meeting but he’d
just have to get over it.

Diskant released her and turned, muscles in his shoulders
and waist flexing seamlessly as he strode to the closet. Tearing her eyes away
before she gave in to the temptation to follow, she glanced at her reflection
in the large mirror hanging above the dresser and grimaced.

Her swollen lips, whisker-burned chin and neck and unruly
appearance screamed, “I just had the best sex of my life.”

Not only would Thomas know she’d found a new man, so would
the rest of the world.

So much for keeping her personal life personal.

Chapter Eight

“I have news you want to hear.”

Craig Newlander shifted his weight in the plush leather
chair as he leaned forward, lifted the receiver and took the call off speaker.
He placed the phone against his ear and cleared his throat.

“I’m listening.”

The man on the other end of the line spoke in a low but
clear voice. “Diskant Black was seen leaving Club Liminality with Ava Brisbane
last night.”

“Ava?” he questioned. “Are you certain?”

“My sources aren’t paid to lie.”

“Did she leave with him willingly?”

“Let’s just say she didn’t put up much of a fight.”

Now this was news he could put to good use. “Where is she
now?”

“Under lockdown at his place.”

“Keep me informed.”

“You got it.”

The line went dead and Craig placed the receiver back into
the cradle.

So Ava was sharing her bed with a shifter, was she? It was a
bit of a shock, considering how determined she seemed to stay away from all
things supernatural—including those more like her than she wanted to know
about—but it was also extremely serendipitous in light of recent events, which
had revealed her importance and talent in an entirely new light. Months of
trying to break down her defenses had proven futile, and the only way they’d
gained her interest was by sharing information and functioning under the
pretense of expanding her limited horizons.

Could it be possible? Could she be
mated
to a
shifter?

Considering her heritage, he wasn’t surprised. Though
undeniably human, she was anything but ordinary. Now, if bonded to something as
powerful as shifter—especially one such as Diskant Black—her telepathy would
only grow stronger as a consequence. It was a good thing, since she was about
to face a danger that wouldn’t go away.

He shook his head and considered all the angles. Hopefully
Diskant wasn’t a random bed partner due to Ava’s lack of companionship in
recent months. He was well aware of her boring and unchanging routine, and the
separation from that louse Martin Feldman had to have been a devastating blow.
Not that he was upset about that. If not for Martin’s absence in her life
Craig’s people never would have been given the opportunity to approach her with
her guard down.

Reaching for the drawer to his right, he grasped the knob
and pulled it open. Nestled just inside was the jewelry box containing Ava’s
birthright—the Brisbane locket. He removed the black velveteen box and sank
back in the leather chair.

With this, her telepathy would be quadrupled. She could
listen to the thoughts of anyone she focused on, able to hear anything and
everything they were thinking, even from miles away. If she agreed to join the
ranks of the Villati, the knowledge—and protection—she could procure for their
studies would prove invaluable. Lifting the lid, he peered down at the rounded
pendant with an intricate design engraved into the center. The platinum flashed
as he grasped the chain, lifted the necklace into the air and shifted his wrist
to study the stone set in the back of the locket, the matching chain sparkling
in the dim lighting.

Ava assumed the locket was nothing more than a trinket,
something to be handed down following her parents’ deaths. When he’d first
obtained the jewelry he’d assumed as much as well. Now that he knew better he
was hesitant to keep her in the dark about the true power of the keepsake,
especially without being alerted to the danger that loomed ahead. In light of
recent happenings, dangling something this powerful in her face, along with a
warning, might be enough to sway her. This wasn’t about cataloging information
so much as it was protecting those who worked to keep a historical record of
preternatural entities.

As if that wasn’t enough, the information garnered by his
staff indicated Shepherds had finally made their way to the city. When they hit
a place with a sizable shifter population the goal was simple—eradication.

Rocking back and forth in his chair, he weighed his options.

Right now the locket was a liability and, as it was in his
keeping, placed him in danger. Since Ava made it clear she wouldn’t meet with
him or his people again following the rendezvous that never happened—a direct
consequence of the heirloom that now marked her—it seemed like the possibility of
engaging her interest was out of his grasp. Perhaps he could up the ante, and
in doing so protect her while enlisting her services and salvaging his own ass.
Either way, the locket had to go. No matter the consequence. The sooner he got
the thing away from him the better. Time was no longer on his side.

After returning the box and closing the drawer, he drummed
his fingers atop the desk, all but certain of his decision. If he couldn’t
return the relic to its rightful owner, he’d have to entrust someone else to do
it for him, even if it meant taking an enormous risk. The time for reflection
was over. Things were about to get messy, for shifter and Villati alike.

A bigger, badder breed of hunter had arrived in town.

Chapter Nine

Ava waited until Diskant stepped inside her apartment before
she turned and closed the door behind them. The meeting with Thomas had gone
exactly as she’d thought it would. Her brother had been cashing out his tab by
the time they’d arrived, five minutes late, and from his expression—both
shocked and angry—she knew he was eager to take the deed and sell it elsewhere.

Thank god Diskant knew back alleyways and shortcuts to get
there faster. Otherwise her asshole sibling would have been long gone and her
opportunity would have passed.

She walked to the kitchen and studied the manila envelope
clutched in her hand for a moment before placing it atop the cheap Formica
counter. As she emptied her pockets, placing the cell and her keys on top of
the yellowed paper, she allowed a moment of happiness and relief to wash over
her. All of her saving, planning and scrounging had worked.

Finally, after all these years, the cabin was hers.

She’d never understood why her parents left her silly
things, such as jewelry and heirlooms, while they passed a vital part of her
childhood to Thomas. They’d known how irresponsible he was and what he was
likely to do with the property.

Diskant’s substantial weight on her shoddy and pockmarked
floorboards caused the wood to creak, and she glanced over her shoulder to
watch as he studied her home, his hawklike eyes homing in on the pictures
crammed into the shelving molded into the wall. He walked past the couch and
coffee table and stopped in front of rows of photos, studying each one
intently.

He seemed so out of place standing inside the cream-colored
room with the matching slipcovers protecting the couch and sofa, his jeans
covered by leather chaps matching an oversized black leather trench coat and
scuff-marked boots. His hair was slightly messy from the ride over on the bike,
a few random strands attached to the whiskers along his jaw.

God he was a fine specimen of man, too deliciously tempting
for his own good. Not only was he the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, but
when Thomas had tried to blow her off and escape their meeting, Diskant had
proved he was equally protective, all but cornering her sniveling brother into
an adjoining booth to get down to business.

Diskant had taken the seat beside her and made the basis of
their relationship obvious by wrapping an arm around her shoulders and playing
with the wisps of hair at the back of her neck. Although he’d seemed at ease,
she knew he’d digested every single word spoken. Each time Thomas raised his
voice or tried to overplay his hand Diskant would nail him with a warning
stare—allowing the threat to soak in—before returning his undivided focus to
her.

Despite her vow to talk rather than engage in more sexual
play, she’d felt her body respond as she recalled his calloused fingers against
her skin, the way his warm breath tickled the flesh at her nape. His touches
were so teasing and gentle, so very different from the night before. As she
shivered in remembrance, the area he’d bitten pulsed and throbbed, along with
various other regions of her body.

Diskant went stock-still as she studied him, and she knew he
smelled her growing desire. Hell, she’d been in a constant state of arousal
since she’d woken. As she’d never been one to engage in unrestricted and
uninhibited sex, her newfound libido was unexpected and confusing. As were the
questions of exactly what was occurring between them. Unlike normal
relationships that included a courtship and warm-up period, this one barreled
full speed ahead without any concern for things like compatibility, mutual
interests or future plans.