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Authors: Kate Serine

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Red
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“Come on, Red,” Nate replied, chancing a glance at me. “Don’t you want to fall in love, settle down, live happily ever after?”
I cringed before I could stop myself. “I don’t believe in happily ever after. Not anymore.”
“I know Wolf hurt you,” Nate said, “but how can you not believe in happily ever after? You’re a fairytale.”
“I’m not a fairytale,” I snapped. “I’m a parable. A moral. And a misguided one at that. The first time I heard my own story it was being told to a group of young girls as a cautionary tale about the evils of men and sexuality!”
Sad but true. And, honestly, I don’t know which part pissed me off more—that Seth was maligned as a villain in the tale, that I was portrayed as a little girl too naive and delicate to decide my own fate, or that all these young women were being spoon fed horrific lies in an effort to preserve their chastity by keeping them dangerously ignorant.
I sat brooding over the tragedy of it all for a long moment before Nate said, “So, if the story everyone’s always heard is bullshit, you want to tell me what really happened? Call me crazy, but I’m guessing there was no cross-dressing involved when Seth seduced you.”
“No—there was no cross-dressing,” I replied, laughing a little in spite of the heaviness in the center of my chest. I let out a long sigh, then said, “I met Seth when I was eighteen. He was a hunter who lived alone in the woods near my village.” I felt a grin curving my lips. “The first time I saw him, he took my breath away—he was
wickedly
handsome. But it wasn’t just that—he was unbelievably kind, and exceptionally gentle.”
“Unfortunately, he was also a werewolf.”
“Yeah, there was that.”
“I assume that didn’t go over so well with your parents,” Nate guessed.
I grunted. “To put it mildly. And when the villagers found out the truth about Seth, they went into full panic mode—complete with torches and pitchforks.” I turned my head so Nate couldn’t see my face as I remembered that horrible night so long ago. “When I heard what they were planning, I went to Seth to warn him. I planned to run away with him, be with him forever, but he thought it’d be safer if I stayed. He promised he’d come back for me.”
“But he didn’t.”
I shook my head.
“Maybe he thought he was doing you a favor by staying away.”
“Some favor,” I drawled. “My parents disowned me and the village cast me out into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on my back. I wandered around for a few days until I finally collapsed.”
“What happened then?” Nate asked, his voice carrying an edge that made me turn and look at him.
I shrugged. “Don’t know. I only remember feeling really cold. And hopeless. I was sure I was going to die—and I didn’t much care. Then . . . ”
“What?”
“I just . . .” I paused, trying to put what happened next into words. “I felt like someone wrapped his arms around me and held me. It was so warm and peaceful. . . .” My words trailed off and I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering the inexplicable comfort I felt in that dark embrace. I’d never felt anything quite like it before or since.
Suddenly recalling that Nate was sitting next to me, waiting for me to continue, I forced myself to snap out of it. I could feel the blood rising in my cheeks as I said quickly, “Anyway, when I woke up, I was at Gran’s. When she heard my story, she insisted I stay. She didn’t have any family either, so I became like the granddaughter she never had.”
“And the rest is history?” Nate supplied gently.
I shifted in my seat. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“You know what I think?” Nate asked.
I gave him a sour look. “Can I stop you from telling me?”
His incredible laugh burst from him, and then he turned those amazing black eyes on me, reading me a lot better than I would have liked. “Whether you like it or not, Red,” he said, “there’s more to you than your story. You may think it defines you, but it doesn’t. And I have a feeling it never did.”
Chapter 7
 
About half an hour after leaving Seth’s, we pulled into an underground parking garage that serviced the suite of offices where Todd Caliban filmed his local cooking show.
Like Gran, Caliban had found a sense of purpose in the Here and Now that had been lacking in the rather restrictive story he’d been a part of.
The Tempest
was technically a comedy, but there was nothing funny about the part he’d been forced to play. He’d been treated with derision and contempt—and called a monster because his circumstances pissed him off.
But in the Here and Now, he was an incredibly talented chef and restaurateur who had finally become a nationally recognized rising star in the world of gourmet cuisine, thanks in large part to the success of reality television. He’d come a long way from the greasy spoon where he’d started out bussing tables when he first came over. His upscale café, Tempest in a Teapot, had just earned him a rave review from one of the most renowned food critics in the country.
Unfortunately, as you can imagine, Todd had a lot of emotional baggage he couldn’t seem to offload no matter how many therapy sessions and anger management courses he took part in. And, in spite of the way he’d been treated, he still hung with the Shakespeare set. The Willies, as we called them at the FMA, were a group of melodramatic attention whores who couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble.
“So, how did you meet Caliban?” Nate asked as we headed toward the elevator.
I grimaced inwardly and adjusted the collar of my leather trench coat. “Stalking case.”
Nate blinked at me. “You got involved with a
stalker
?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I insisted, punching the elevator button with more vigor than necessary. Of course, it stubbornly refused to respond. “Caliban and Miranda had a thing. Her father got pissed about it—nobody’s good enough for Daddy’s little girl and all that—so she lied about Caliban stalking her to maintain Prospero’s delusions.”
“When were you two together?”
I glanced at the lights above the elevator, wondering if the damn thing was even in service. “It was after that. He made me dinner.”
A smug grin slowly curved Nate’s lips. “So, the way to your heart is through your stomach?” he quipped. “I thought that was just a guy thing.”
I squared my shoulders and mentally pleaded with the elevator to get its ass in gear. “Girl’s gotta eat.”
Nate crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall, regarding me with open amusement. “So since I made you breakfast . . .”
I shot him a deadly look as the elevator finally arrived. “Don’t even go there.”
Nate chuckled as we stepped inside, but by the time we reached the fifteenth floor he was all business again, his jaw pulverizing a fresh stick of gum.
As the elevator door slid open, a cacophony of noise greeted us. I exchanged a frown with Nate, then picked up the pace as another loud crash sounded from the studio set.
“What the hell is
this
?” roared a furious voice. “I said I wanted pork belly—who was the fucking moron who brought me pork cutlets? What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? Get my producer! I can’t work in these conditions! This is ludicrous! Where’s Sebille?”
“Ah, the famous rage of Caliban,” Nate muttered. “No wonder you found him so charming.”
“He was a victim of circumstances,” I snapped. “I could relate.”
A familiar scene greeted me as we entered the kitchen where Caliban was supposed to be filming. Well, it had once been a kitchen anyway. Pots and pans were strewn about the floor as were various ingredients that had been set out for whatever recipe he’d intended. On the countertop, a lone bowl of shallots had somehow escaped his tantrum. The rest was in shambles.
“I’m sorry, Todd,” a smartly dressed woman with titian hair and painfully pointy shoes soothed, stroking his arm. She was pretty in an uptight, corporate kind of way. “It was my fault. I should have made sure that the correct protein was delivered before you came on set.”
Caliban ran a hand through his wild mane of tawny hair, reminding me of a caged lion ready to spring on his prey. He cast a frustrated glance around the wreckage of his set and waved away her apology. “It’s all right,” he said, his voice a lot milder than it had been. “I’ll figure something out.”
At that moment the woman—Sebille, I presumed—sensed our presence and rushed forward to intercept us. “I’m sorry,” she said calmly in spite of the angry flash of her forest green eyes, “but this isn’t a good time. Chef Caliban is busy at the moment.”
Nate grunted and nodded toward the wreckage. “So we heard.”
I lifted my FMA badge. “This is official business, Miss . . .”
“Fenwick.” Sebille’s eyes narrowed at me as she gave me the once-over. “You’re Tess Little,” she practically snarled. “I’ve heard about you.”
I grinned at her, hoping it would get under her skin. “Peachy. Then you know to get the hell out of my way and let me do my job.”
Sebille took a step forward, not intimidated by me in the least.
Interesting
. “I don’t think I like your attitude,” she snapped.
I returned the advance and shoved my face up at hers. “I don’t think I like your shoes, so I guess we’re even.”
Based on the look of outrage on her face, I was about to have a good girly throw-down complete with scratching and hair-pulling, but Caliban stepped forward and placed a hand on Sebille’s shoulder before the fun could get started.
“It’s all right, Sebille,” he said gently. “I have no reason for concern.”
The woman instantly dropped back a step. “Of course,” she muttered. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.” She cast a glance toward Todd from under lowered lashes, but his gaze was trained on me, his lips almost curving into a smile.
“Hi, Red,” he said warmly. “I thought I might be seeing you.”
“I wish it was under different circumstances,” I said, meaning it.
His eyes took me in with a sweeping glance, taking on the same hungry look that had first brought to mind the image of a lion. “Me, too.”
“We have to take you in for questioning,” I told him, not bothering to keep the regret out of my voice. There was no point. Caliban wasn’t the monster he was made out to be—which apparently was the theme of my love life. But he’d also been in trouble enough to know the drill.
“I had nothing to do with Hamelin’s death,” he said, taking off his chef’s jacket and tossing it onto the kitchen counter. “I hired him to get rid of a few rats in my restaurants. That was the extent of our acquaintance.”
Nate stepped forward and grabbed on to Caliban’s arm, giving him a none too gentle tug toward the hallway. “Not about the Hamelin case.”
Caliban’s face contorted instantly at Nate’s rough treatment, and he jerked his arm away. “Then what the hell
is
it about?”
“Take it easy!” I chastised, glowering at Nate. Then, turning to Caliban, I asked, “How did you know about Hamelin already?”
He shrugged. “Word travels fast. I heard it from an associate.”
I raised my brows. “Want to give me a name?”
Todd offered me a genuine smile this time. “No, probably not. It’s always more fun to watch you sort it out on your own.”
This time I was the one who grabbed his elbow and ushered him off the set. “You know, you’d make things a lot easier for everyone if you just cooperated, Todd.”
To my surprise, he swept up my hand and kissed it with a chuckle. “And deny myself these lovely visits from you?”
“Hey, lay off the kissing, pal,” Nate growled. Literally.
Caliban and I both jerked back at the harshness of Nate’s tone. “Who’s the new boyfriend?” Caliban taunted, nodding his head in Nate’s direction.
I glanced at Nate just long enough to gauge his reaction to Caliban’s question, but he didn’t seem nearly as perturbed as I was. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I replied. “This is Detective Nate Grimm.”
At this, Todd paused, glancing between Nate and me, his expression sobering. “Homicide. This is about a murder?”
“Murders,” Nate informed him. “Plural.”
Caliban looked a little panicked at this revelation and bent toward me, lowering his voice. “I’m on parole.”
“For what?” I asked, lowering my volume to match his. “What happened this time?”
He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Incident in New York City a couple of months ago involving a mouthy hotel clerk and a telephone. It was nothing. But if I get arrested, Red, I’m back in the FMA prison for at least a year. I swear to you I wasn’t involved with any murders.”
I knew Caliban, had known him for quite a while, and I believed him. But I didn’t get paid to make that call. “Just come in quietly with us, Todd, and answer the Chief’s questions. If everything checks out, you’ll be good to go.”
He nodded absently, his thoughts obviously distracted. “I should probably let Sebille know where I’m going. Let her know that I won’t be filming today.”
“We can bring her with us,” I suggested.
“No, no,” Todd replied, running his hand through his hair again. “Never mind. She doesn’t need to get wrapped up in any of this. She’s a good girl.”
I made a scoffing noise and urged him forward. “Careful,” I warned. “Seems like it’s the good girls that get you into trouble, Todd.”
Todd gave me a mischievous grin. “Perhaps that’s why we didn’t work out, Red—you were just too damned
good
for me.”
I gave him a shove, refusing to rise to the bait. “Just get going,” I grumbled. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can get back to bombarding your staff with f-bombs and condescending tirades.”
Caliban laughed and leaned toward Nate conspiratorially. “Don’t be fooled,” he whispered loud enough that I could hear. “She might pretend to be irritated by my particular brand of charm, but she’s never really gotten over me.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling as we entered the elevator, resigning myself to the fact that Todd was going to play it this way. I didn’t know what I’d been hoping for. Although talented and truly kindhearted once you got past the quick temper and latent rage, his success had made him an egomaniacal dick—a much maligned, often wrongly accused, and seriously misunderstood egomaniacal dick, but a dick nonetheless.
As the elevator doors slid closed, I received a sharp smack on my left butt cheek that stung from the impact. I spun around, glaring angrily, but Caliban only winked. Which made me want to deck him. Instead, for the sake of my paycheck, I hissed to Nate, “Cuff him. For his own safety.”
Caliban held out his wrists to Nate. “Yes, Detective, please do. I wouldn’t want to do myself harm.”
Nate glanced at me as he clicked the cuffs into place. He said nothing, but I could see the puzzled look in his eyes as he no doubt tried to figure out why I’d ever hooked up with Caliban in the first place.
I turned my back on them both and squared my shoulders. “Smack my ass again, Caliban, and I’ll arrest you for assault.”
He sniggered. “Once upon a time you wouldn’t have minded a good smack on the ass. . . .”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Twice.
This was going to be a long day.

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