Sanibel Surrender Vampire Werewolf Menage (Fanged Romance Series Book Five) (5 page)

“Heath,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering until they completely closed. This time, she was truly asleep.

He waited for Mason to gather himself. “If you will, drive my lass across the street to the Pack compound.” Earlier, Gage had informed Heath that Molly had accepted Bren’s offer to use one of his flats. Considering she would be living right in the middle of the Pack’s compound, the location would be the safest for her, unless she went back to Miami and lived under the roof of the Jordan Marketing building. “I want to track that vampire. His scent is all over her,” He hated the way Molly smelled of vampire, but he was a born Tracker and would put his inherent skills to use.

“Good idea,” Mason agreed. “She has a place already?”

“Aye, Bren put her on the first floor in the main tower.” He nodded. “If you, Terje, and Rune could tuck her in her new place safely and watch over her until I return, I’d be obliged.” Heath lifted Molly in his arms, carrying her around to the cab of the truck, and pitched their borrowed shirts back at them.

“Not a problem, Highlander,” Rune took Molly and placed her back next to Terje.

Terje asked Heath. “I’m fluent with Norse sleeping spells. Are you good with that? She’ll awake refreshed, feeling fine. And most importantly, she won’t remember anything about that vampire misting her.”

Heath nodded. “Perfect, once again, you have my gratitude.”

He misted as they drove away, his pulse throbbing in his throat, his balls once again tightening to points of extreme pain. While waiting for Molly’s divorce to come through,
waiting to take what
was rightfully his
, Heath had barely passed through three full moons, and he couldn’t help but worry over the upcoming one. What if Molly refused to accept him? More than that, he wondered if tonight’s vampire had anything to do with the Dynasty Gryph who hunted his beloved a few months ago, the very one who tried to take her away from him.

Of course, when was the last time Molly had fun?
Last night beneath Heath Faden
, she chided herself - nothing like getting a divorce and then celebrating by acting like a complete and utter whore within her first twenty-four hours of freedom. To her credit, she’d never enjoyed a one-nighter before, much less a few spiraling minutes getting off in the back of a pickup truck with the hottest…
don’t think about
the way he looks.
Molly shook herself. She should have known better than to expect him spooning her all night, talking dirty into her ear, and then waking up with her for an early bird morning romp. In fact, she didn’t remember Heath coming with her to her new condo
at all
. But she guessed this was the way of it, playing the newly single slut wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. She used him. He used her right back.

Her eyes flicked to the moon, wishing she were far from here and soaking in a tubful of girly scented bubbles. Today had been a total bitch. Not only had Wilson changed the locks on their condo, preventing the movers from helping her collect her things, he wouldn’t return her phone calls. Maddeningly, Molly was down to the last clean outfit out of the three she’d packed before her divorce hearing. On top of that, she had been late for work due to fighting major traffic on the way back from a South Fort Myers job-hunting excursion. Her supervisor had raised a questioning brow when Molly had finally clocked in for work, but Molly raised one indignant brow right back. He’d cut her hours, so what did he expect? She had to find another job. During her mental meanderings, she heard a man pointedly clear his throat.

“Oh, sorry.” Molly flushed, wondering how long she’d been out of it. “Mr. Valdia -”

“Surnames are so formal, don’t you agree?” he asked her, taking a step closer. “I would prefer you call me by my first name, which is Extol.”

“
Extol
,” she repeated, wondering who would name their kid that. He tilted his blonde head almost imperiously, his strangely unique eyes closing as though savoring the sound of her voice repeating his name. But she knew better. Molly’s imagination had been getting the better of her for months. And a devastatingly glorious, albeit creepy, man would not find her
that
savory.

“Could you tell me about this particular garden,” he asked.

“Mina’s Moonlight Garden,” she explained, gesturing to the long, rectangular reflecting pool encased by three walls of pristine foliage, “was a personal endeavor Mrs. Edison cultivated for her husband. You see, typically, Thomas Edison worked all night. Most times, only sleeping after dawn emerged over the river. In fact, he kept cots scattered about the property, so he could take what modern society would refer to as power naps.” Unnervingly, Molly realized Extol’s eyes, with their unique butterscotch color, had oddly transfixed her, causing her to speak directly to him instead of working the crowd as a whole. Not good if she wanted to up the estates’ benefactors, which would up her chances of getting her fulltime position back. In this economy, they needed every dime they could squeeze out of every generous pocket. She glanced around, smiling at each of them. “Therefore, with her gift of flora, Mina created this Moonlight Garden right outside Mr. Edison’s personal office for him to enjoy. At any given moment, he could step out under the moon’s glow and appreciate botanical nature at its finest.”

Extol seemed to be closer to her now, his body’s warmth invading Molly’s personal space. “Did Mina ever join Thomas?”

She shook her head, frowning. “Join him?”

He gestured with a long hand to the empty bench. “In this garden built just for him, did Mr. Edison’s wife, who obviously coveted the
sun’s
bounty, join her husband under the moon?”

A mild wind kicked up, the lush fragrance of night blooms enveloping her. Molly closed her eyes briefly, breathing in moonflowers and evening primrose. “Sure, at times.” Or so she thought, something was messing with her mind, clogging its arterial flow, and she couldn’t seem to remember necessary facts. Had to be stress, Molly figured.

“Enchanting, don’t you agree?” he inquired smoothly.

“Yes.” Molly realized that, once more, Extol had herded her, putting himself between her and the others. Raising a censoring brow, she stepped back and stared pointedly at the other prospective benefactors. “Any other questions I can answer regarding Mina’s Moonlight Garden?” In return, all she heard were the crickets, the lulling current of the Caloosahatchee, and her own erratic breathing. The other eight patrons stared dazedly back at her, saying absolutely nothing. “Any concerns about the winter estates I can address?” Extol was at her back now, walking in half circles, inching closer and closer. “Anyone?” she inquired again. “Well, please, come back next week for dancing and cocktails at our annual bash celebrating Henry Ford’s birthday.” Where Wilson had proposed, so she sincerely hoped this was the last year she would have to attend. “The celebration will be held next door at The Mangroves.” Clasping her hands together, she smiled brightly. “We appreciate your interest in the winter estates, and now I’ll leave you in Chuck’s care.” Skating Extol, she nodded at the nighttime security guard. The
only
security hired for tonight’s private tour, and he didn’t look like he could get out of his own way, much less use the teeny-tiny can of pepper spray dangling from his utility belt if need dictated. “He’ll be happy to escort you across the street, to your cars.”

Once she noticed Extol lingering, Molly’s smile slipped. She didn’t need lingerers, especially one so
male
, not when she was the only one working tonight besides Chuck. Even while wearing high heels, the top of her head barely reached Extol’s chin, which Molly found more than a tad unnerving. Her eyes flickered over him. His dark suit jacket stretched wide across shoulders born of another era, similar to Heath’s, a body meant for a knight’s chainmail.
Who are you?

It was her turn to clear her throat. “Do you have any further questions, Extol?”

After a deep inhale, he slowly released his breath, his pale brows scrunching as though he were in pain. “I have frightened you.” Only then did he step back, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Please, accept my apologies.” He smiled and then lowered himself on the bench.

Extol’s futile attempts to make himself appear smaller, less threatening, wouldn’t help Molly feel any better. Still, he didn’t have to know she was here nearly alone. “Ah, no apologies necessary,” she replied. Casually, she moved incrementally away from the reflecting pool, nearing the only available exit. “I want to address all your questions before another security guard spots us and kicks us out of here.”
Right
, even she heard the deception in her voice.

“I have only one more question for you,” he said so quietly, it gave her pause. “Would you have dinner with me?”

“It’s late.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Thank you, but I have too many obligations tomorrow.”

“When
are
you available?” Extol asked in a voice that implied he would
not
be deterred.

“I’m not sure,” she said, feeling weird over this private encounter. His exotic eyes dropped to her ring finger, giving her diamond set a fleeting glance. Molly curled her fingers into her palm, still wondering why she hadn’t taken off her wedding rings. After all, she was a single woman, and single women didn’t wear wedding rings. “I just moved into a new place and things are up in the air for me right now.”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

She swallowed hard. “No, but I believe in getting a good night’s rest, so I’ll be heading out now. Um, just follow that main sidewalk, look for the Banyan tree, and the parking lot won’t be far behind.” She jutted her chin, matching his look of sheer frustration with one of her own, before striding the narrow walkway next to Mr. Edison’s office. She couldn’t care that she gave him her back, burning up the ground to leave. Something wasn’t right.

“Molly Shirley,” he recited her maiden name, calling after her.

How would Extol know her maiden name? What was his game? “You’re not here as a benefactor!” she yelled, taking a corner that led to the main house.

“Wait!” He called out. “Please, do not run from me! I am simply unaccustomed to interacting with your kind in this type of setting.”

“What does that even mean?” She screamed without looking back, didn’t care what his answer was. He’d buried the dial on her creep-o-meter, and she wasn’t sticking around to find out why.
Run. Run. Run
. She made a mad psychotic dash and jumped atop Thomas Edison’s back porch. Molly then kicked out and lengthened her stride. After the second high jump, she landed like a fallen cat in a move that even
she
found impressive. From there, she rushed through the dining room of the main house, with her heels clomping across the wooden floor. She grimaced at the telltale sound, which was the equivalent of leaving a breadcrumb trail straight to her frightened ass. Molly stole a second to glance over her shoulder. He was nowhere in sight. It didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking somewhere, though, but she still risked a quick moment to yank off her heels.

There wasn’t any time to lock all the first floor doors to keep him out, but Molly had a backup plan. She eyed the creepy dolls by the staircase, stepped behind them, and uncovered the strange panel hidden beneath the stairs. After she made her way inside, Molly pushed the small sliding bolt in place and locked the panel door. There was only one way in and out of this little hideaway, but it would have to do. Positioned on her haunches, she reached inside her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. With trembling fingers, she swallowed her pride and pushed speed dial number four. One ring, two rings, three rings. Yeah, he hated her, probably wouldn’t pick up.

A deep rumbling voice answered, “Molly?”

“B-bane, I-I don’t know if you can hear me,” she whispered, nearly dropping the phone.

“Tell me where you are.
Now
.”

“W-work… at Edison’s Estate, I’m under the staircase in the d-dining room.” She brought her other hand up to steady the phone, both hands shaking. “I think a psycho could be chasing me. Maybe, I’m the psycho…b-but I can’t say exactly why I ran. I j-just did.” And why had she called Bane instead of the police?

“Inherent instincts are a good thing to have, Mol. Stay where you are,” he growled in his deep baritone. “You’ll have help in less than five.”

Before she hung up, she pleaded with Bane to hurry. From there the silence grew, only her deep calming breaths filling the tiny area. How could Bane arrive in less than five minutes?

“Molly?” Extol asked from the other side of the pane. “Are you okay?”

“Go away.” She pulled her phone back out, rethinking the police. And to her utter horror, found the battery completely drained, though it was nearly full when she had called Bane.

“We need to talk,” he said wearily, “but not here. You have no idea how much I need you.”

“How can you need someone you don’t even know?” Molly could sense his hands on the door. Such a big man, he could break it in without much effort on his part. And in this small space under the stairs, no more than six feet by six feet, he had Molly effectively trapped. He went on in coaxing tones, “I would like a chance to better explain, face to face. I hate that this particular encounter was so shocking for you.”

“Particular encounter?” What was he talking about? Tonight was the only encounter they’d had.

“I thought if you had a memory of me in the moonlight garden built for love, you wouldn’t find me so deplorable.”

Okay, so she wasn’t far off base when she deemed him a psycho. But deplorable? Extol’s physical appearance was unbelievably stunning, so he must be referring to something dark and dreadful on the inside. Or he had
committed
something dark and dreadful -
not the kind of person you want chasing you.
“No need to explain, just leave and w-we’ll call it a night.”