Muzzling the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 4 (7 page)

“Five sounds good.”

For a mortal. For her, it was the doomsday clock ticking loudly.

“We can catch an early dinner afterward, along with some jazz,” he said. “If you’re willing to play hooky with me.”

He was killing her with his enticing proposals. She had to put a stop to this now. “Okay.”

After hugging and kissing her fiercely, Gabe pushed to a sitting position. “No,” he said when she was about to get up. “Don’t move. I’ll call you when breakfast is done.”

“You know how to cook? Since when? At Pasquets you said you couldn’t.”

“Oysters and beignets, not eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast—simple food.”

Ohmygod, he was beyond perfect. When he left the room, Constance buried her face in the sheets, wallowing in his scent, her stomach twisted in worry over what she could possibly do to fix this.

Like the fool she was, Constance fell asleep. Gabe awakened her with an impassioned kiss, carried her to the table, and settled her on his lap.

She couldn’t allow it and pushed to her feet.

He didn’t look pleased. “What are you doing?”

Constance turned and showed him, straddling his body. “This is better.”

“No shit.”

They fed each other here as they had at the restaurant, though this was an X-rated version. With one end of a bacon strip in her mouth, she offered the other end to Gabe. He ate it until their lips touched. They chewed, swallowed quickly, and made out for minutes.

Sated for the moment, he smeared butter and jelly on her nipples rather than on the toast and licked it off her. She slipped a forkful of egg into his mouth and tongued the yolk from his bottom lip.

So it went until they had to haul ass—him to his job, Constance to her apartment.

“No,” she said when he offered to drive her. “I’ll take a cab.”

“Why? I can easily swing by your place before I go in.”

She didn’t want him knowing where she lived, especially since she’d given him a fake last name. “Go on and shower. I’ll call for a ride while you do. By the time you’re finished, the cab will be here.”

“We’re not showering together?”

He sounded like a child crushed to find out there was no Santa Claus.

“Not this morning,” she said, cupping his face in her palm, somehow making it sound as if there would be other times when they’d be soaping each other.

As he went into the bathroom, she called a cab, dressed hurriedly, paced, and troubled over what to do next, not having a clue what to do.

They kissed goodbye in front of his condo and again after he opened the rear door of the cab for her. When Gabe insisted on paying with his credit card, Constance nearly broke into tears. He was too good for her, while she’d have to keep fucking around with his memories in order to protect her friends.

“See you at five,” he said.

Constance forced herself to nod.

As the cab pulled away, she turned to the back window and watched Gabe get smaller and smaller until she couldn’t see him anymore.

This is what it’s going to be like when he’s totally out of your life
.

The thought made Constance queasy and lonelier than she’d ever been.

All the way to her apartment, she struggled over the right thing to do for Gabe and the others, not bothering to put herself in the equation. Sure, she had an endless need of him, but was it right? Could it ever be practical? Was there a way to make it endure?

Constance didn’t think so, but it didn’t change her hopeful heart.

By the time the driver pulled up to her unit, she was busy texting Becca, Zoe, Heather, and MJ with a message she hoped would keep the inevitable at bay a while longer.

Chapter Seven

When Constance arrived at From Crud to Stud, everyone was waiting for her in Becca’s office.

Heather sat on the sofa, hands clasped tightly, expression pained. After shutting the door, Zoe stood in front of it, puffs of smoke rising from the ends of her hair. MJ looked vaguely amused, as if she couldn’t wait for the shit to hit the fan.

Becca leaned against the lip of her desk, arms crossed, expression hard as she regarded Constance’s hair, no longer hidden beneath a turban.

So sue her. Gabe liked to touch and smell it.

Becca spoke first. “I read your text.”

Obviously.

“You told him he could do what?” Becca asked.

“Wait a sec,” MJ said. She turned to Constance and grinned. “You actually saw him again, huh?”

Did she ever. Constance gave MJ a wan smile and focused on Becca. “I had to tell him it was okay for him to come here and check us out. He’s not going to give up. Neither is the priest.”

Zoe made a sound a rabid pit bull would have found intimidating.

Becca’s frown deepened as she stared at Constance. “Do you hear that?”

How could she have avoided it? Zoe was less than a yard away and still growling. “I know she’s upset, but—”

“I’m not talking about her.” Becca uncrossed her arms and gestured to the door. “Don’t you hear what’s going on in the hall?”

Right. Constance had grown so used to oaths flying and the guys manhandling clients, it had become background noise. The heavy grunts sounded like Stefin’s as he dragged a reluctant reaper down the hall. Those poor jerks might sign up for the service, but they always had second thoughts when it came to doing the work.

Becca continued, “Although vamps don’t show up until evening, we have clients all day long, remember?”

Constance did now. “Can’t we cancel the ones for today, at least until Gabe is gone? If you’re worried about losing the fees, I’ll pay you back for them.”

“Thank you,” Heather said, her shoulders sagging with obvious relief. “I’m running a little short since I covered those two no-shows earlier in the week.”

“You need to quit doing that,” Becca said to her and turned to Constance. “Have you forgotten the claw marks on the treatment room walls? What do you think he’s going to say about them?”

Constance sank to the arm of the sofa, ready to share the rest of the plan she’d failed to mention in her text. “I thought MJ could redecorate this place before he gets here. A makeover, like she did with Zoe.”

“Keeps doing,” MJ said, gesturing to Zoe’s coral pantsuit. “What she’s wearing today is mine too.”

Constance smiled. “Pretty. The cameo’s a nice touch.”

“You don’t think it’s too old for me?” Zoe asked, fingering it.

“Oh, hey, no. It’s elegant and—”

Becca cleared her throat loudly, interrupting. “You want us to redo this place for him?”

“Only to give him an illusion of a regular office with mortal staff,” Constance said. She rubbed Heather’s back. “Sorry, sweetie, but you’re going to have to wear something other than white.”

Heather’s eyes rounded.

“You’ll have to stop smoking,” Constance said to Zoe, then turned to MJ. Today she’d worn a snug tee and jeans rather than her usual Frederick’s of Hollywood attire. “You’ll have to behave yourself. And,” Constance added to Becca, “it wouldn’t hurt for you to ditch the harem pants and top for a regular blouse and pants—just for this afternoon. It wouldn’t hurt for everyone to act normal too.”

Becca had already shoved her bangs off her forehead. A few of the hairs pointed toward the ceiling. “Define normal.”

Anything not usually happening here
. Constance gestured to Zoe. “No flames bobbing in her eyes or smoke rising from her hair.”

Zoe lifted her chin. “My guys like me the way I am.”

“You’re fine as you are,” Constance said quickly. “I’m not being critical. Believe me, no one’s more imperfect than I am. I simply want this to go smoothly and get it over with.”

Becca pushed away from the desk and went to Constance. “What happens after we pass his inspection?”

Dinner and jazz if the gods were willing. Given Becca’s scowl, Constance figured they wouldn’t be. Her heart twisted and her spirits fell. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wouldn’t ordinarily, but I like him.” She looked at all of them. “When you guys were falling in love, I didn’t try to keep you from it, I cheered you on.”

Heather nodded. “It’s true. She kept asking for details about Daemon and me…lots of them.” Her face turned bright red.

Zoe’s had more color than usual too as she glowered. “We weren’t involved with mortals.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Well, duh. Most of them are so boring. Don’t you think?”

“I never liked them,” Zoe said.

Heather clasped her hands even tighter. “I’m sure some of them are nice.”

Zoe sniffed. “Yeah, right. What about the SOB I sold my soul for? Did you forget about him?”

“Quiet.” Becca held up her hand for silence and turned to Constance. “You’re falling in love with him?”

She was afraid to say or even think about it.

MJ grinned. “I’d say the love train has already left the station.”

“He’s a good man,” Constance said. “So what if he’s mortal?”

Becca lifted her flame-colored eyebrows. “Where can this lead? If it goes on and you guys get deeply involved, you’ll eventually have to tell him the truth.”

“She could always screw with his memories,” Zoe said.

MJ nodded. “Works for me.”

Constance wasn’t sure what to think.

Becca looked worried. “Have you ever played with anyone’s memories repeatedly? Removing them and planting false ones and removing those and —”

“No.” Constance wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold to the bone. “It’s never been necessary before.”

“Then you don’t know if it’s safe,” Becca said.

She hadn’t thought about it. Her entire focus had been on simply getting through today.

“Sweetie.” Becca cradled Constance’s cheek in her palm. “If you want this guy, it’s best he likes you for who you really are, not an image you’re trying to project.”

“I can’t tell him the truth yet. He’ll freak.”

“But you’ll have to tell him sometime if this is going to work.”

There was the rub. It couldn’t possibly, yet Constance had never wanted anything more. “I don’t know what to do.”

MJ shrugged. “I say keep altering his memories. Could be fun to watch him go around in circles.”

Constance bared her teeth.

Heather piped in. “If anything bad happens, I could try and heal him.”

“With
try
being the operative word,” Becca said and then spoke to Constance. “Do you have your cell phone with you?”

She held her purse to her chest. “Why? I don’t want to call Gabe and cancel. Not yet. I need a little more time with him. Please. I’m not ready to give him up yet.”

“I’m not asking you to. You need to call your mom and see what will happen to him if you continually fuck with his memories, with no one able to fix what you’ve done.”

Constance couldn’t stop trembling.

“Go on,” Becca said. “It’s best to find out, especially if you don’t want to hurt him.”

Constance frowned. “His name is Gabe. Not him, the mortal or the detective. Gabe.”

Becca nodded agreeably, the same as the others.

Constance wanted to hurl. She pulled her smartphone from her purse and pushed to her feet. “Everyone out. I don’t want you guys to hear this.”

No one moved.

Figures.
She turned her back to them and tapped the phone to call her mom, one of the most respected voodoo priestesses in the South, not a teacher as she’d told Gabe. Constance’s father was a complete mystery. As far as she knew, he could be Obama or Michael Jordan.

“Mama?” Constance said when the call connected.

“My sweet baby.” Her mom’s unconditional love poured over the airwaves. “You sound worried. What’s wrong?”

She really needed to do a better job of hiding her feelings. With her fingers pressed to her forehead, Constance put distance between herself and the other ladies. They followed. Heather even pushed off the sofa to join them.

She sighed. “Nothing. I have this unusual case.”

Zoe snorted.

Constance glared at her. So did Becca. Bringing the phone back to her ear, Constance continued, “I’ve already removed a few memories from this…ah…client. Now I—or rather the client—wants me to plant false memories. I’ll have to eventually remove them and possibly plant more while I’m also taking away the real ones. This could go on for a while. Weeks, months, possibly years.”
If everything works out.
She stopped to catch her breath and tensed as she asked, “Will it hurt him? Memory-wise, I mean.”

“Is he mortal or immortal?”

Constance held back a groan. “Mortal.”

“You’ll fry his brain if you keep messing with it. Won’t be pretty.”

Oh God.
At thirty-two, Gabe’s future would be ashes, all because of her. Constance whimpered. “What if Heather tried to heal him?”

“She’ll probably start crying because she doesn’t have the sheer force to undo what you will have done.”

Constance’s stomach knotted. Already Heather was whimpering, no doubt having guessed her powers would be shit with this. “I’ve already altered his memories three times. Will the damage be permanent?”

“Doubtful. I wouldn’t try for four though—is this client someone I should know about?”

“No. Thanks for the advice. Bye.” Constance killed the call but couldn’t stop shivering.

Becca hugged her first, followed by the others. They swayed in place, making her dizzier.

“I have to give him up, don’t I?” Constance said. “I’m not going to have what you guys do. I’m always going to be alone. He’s the one man I have ever wanted, who really seems to want me, and there’s no possibility to have a relationship with him, no freaking future, because of who I am. I’m so damn screwed, aren’t—”

She couldn’t finish, tears precluding it.

Suddenly, everyone went still.

“This sucks,” MJ said first. “Why are we giving her a hard time? She asked us to change this place to protect us when Gabe comes here. You heard her. He’s not going to give up. We have to help her. She’s always helped us.”

“True,” Zoe said. “She gave the guys hell when she thought they’d ditched me for another babe in the second circle.”

Heather nodded. “She offered to buy me lunch so I’d tell her about my first night with Daemon.” After a brief pause, Heather mumbled, “I couldn’t. I’m sorry. About this too. What kind of a healer am I if I can’t put Gabe’s brain back together?”

“It’s okay,” Becca said. “You’re fine.”

“We have to help her with this,” MJ said. “First with changing this place and then with everything else.”

Becca looked torn but finally nodded.

Constance swiped away her tears. “You guys mean it?”

“Absolutely,” MJ said. “This’ll be a piece of cake, as soon as I know how you guys want the place to look.”

“Wait.” Becca cupped Constance’s face in her hands. “You will have to tell him the truth eventually and risk everything. Are you willing to do so?”

“I won’t expose any of you. He’ll never know you’re not mortal.”

“What about you?” Becca studied her carefully. “Do you trust Gabe not to hurt you as a woman and as a voodoo priestess?”

He’d wig out certainly when he learned about her powers, but Constance knew deep inside he’d never deliberately harm her. “Yeah. He’s a good guy.”

Becca turned to the others. “Let’s do it.”

An hour later, no one could decide whether the walls should be blue or beige, with Heather voting for white. MJ had provided several models for the treatment rooms. One had ornate furniture, the same as the kind in Becca’s office. Another was sleekly modern, perfect for today’s shrink, yet stunning too, as if Sigmund Freud had been a member of the fashion police. The third was utilitarian, the kind of room one would see in a state hospital.

The second one with blue walls got most of the votes.

“Now for you guys,” MJ said, studying Heather.

She leaned away. “I’m not wearing my leather stuff here. It’s for Whatever Goes.”

“Anything Goes,” MJ said. “How about this?” There was a faint popping sound. Before it faded, Heather wore a sky-blue peasant blouse and beige jeans, and had her hair done up in a ponytail.

“Not bad,” Zoe said.

Heather was clearly stricken. “These colors are so gaudy. We’re not even in a BDSM club, we’re at work.”

“It’s only for tonight,” MJ said and turned to Becca, who quickly put distance between them. Grinning, MJ followed. “No reason to be scared.”

“Easy for you to say. You were never called the
F
word in school.”

“You’ll still be beautiful after I get through. Now hold still.”

Before Becca could take another step, a new pop filled the room. She stared at her black silk pantsuit. Completing her outfit were designer heels and a silver clip holding back the right side of her bob. Even her makeup was subdued, simple and refined.

Zoe frowned. “Didn’t you dress me in the very same thing the other day?”

“Nope.” MJ faced her. “I don’t imitate, I innovate.” More pops.

Zoe glanced down at her pale green dress, a simple A-line design radiating pure class. Her beige sling backs were another nice touch.

“Now for your hair,” MJ said.

“What about my—”

Before Zoe could finish, her hair was in a severe bun.

“Hey,” she said, clawing it. “This is so tight I can’t feel my scalp.”

“Sorry.” MJ’s smile said she wasn’t. With another pop, Zoe’s hair was hanging loose again and smoking away. “Better?”

Frowning, she massaged her head.

“Can’t you stop her hair from doing that?” Constance said. “And her eyes are still flaming.”

“No prob.” There was a rapid series of pops this time.

Zoe blinked repeatedly. “What did you put in my eyes?”

“Colored contacts. They’ll hide the flames.”

Becca made a face. “What’s with the cig?”

There was a lit cigarette between Zoe’s index and middle finger. MJ turned to them. “I can’t do anything about her belching smoke when she’s upset. Hopefully, Gabe will think it’s coming from her Virginia Slims.”