Sanibel Surrender Vampire Werewolf Menage (Fanged Romance Series Book Five) (6 page)

“Molly, I have to come in.”

She slammed back into a small, wooden crate. “Don’t.” The crate jarred a narrow shelf loaded with what sounded like paint cans. “Oh!” In a ludicrous domino effect, they tumbled, one by one. Hastily, Molly wrapped her head in her arms, dodging what she could. When she flipped to her side, one clocked her shoulder, spilling thick liquid down the front of her dress. By its strong, musty smell, the paint was truly ancient.

“You’ve hurt yourself?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Go away!” Blindly, she ran her hands over the floor, searching for anything to better her survival. She stumbled upon what felt like an oddly shaped hammer. Yes! A weapon was just what she needed, so she eagerly gripped it with her paint-slickened hands. It would take a brutal blow across the head to immobilize someone of his great size, and Molly prayed she wouldn’t have to risk using it. She didn’t relish the thought of hurting someone, much less killing them. Still, better him than her.

From behind the panel, she heard him inhale sharply. “You’ve called someone,” he sounded almost hurt.

“T-the police,” Molly lied, nearing the small door again. She raised her hands, the handle of the tool slipping in her grip, but she held on with all her might.

“Not the police,” he said with loathing, “you called
them
.”

Swallowing against the bile rising in her throat, she asked, “Them?”

“I’m the one you need, not them.”

Molly didn't bother asking him to explain that one. After all, how can anyone explain crazy? She heard a slight ping, then the sound of a latch hitting the floor. Then he was suddenly inside facing her. The light from the dining room illuminated one side of his sculptured face, the other side cast in deep shadow. Bringing down the hammer, she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to witness what she was about to do. But at the last second, he gripped both of her wrists with one of his hands, easily removing the makeshift weapon from her slippery grip. Surprisingly, Extol was remarkably gentle with her, considering she was about to bash in his head.

His opposite hand moved around her throat, pinning her to the wall. Still, his movements were gentle, almost a lover’s caress. "We don't have much time," he said, placing his lips against her cheek. "The paint fumes are masking your scent, but they will find you soon enough."

Sliding one leg out, she looped her ankle around the bottom of the doorframe, waiting for the perfect moment to bolt. "S-scent?" Unless a canine unit was searching for her, how would Bane locate her by her scent? Didn't matter, Molly would keep this lunatic talking, buy some time.

He murmured, “So beautiful.” Against her now, Extol was close enough for her to smell
his
unique scent, even over the ghastly paint fumes. And she didn’t exactly feel revulsion or the fear she’d experienced just moments ago. And that frightened Molly even more. He smelled almost familiar. "A kiss before I leave you, then."

"A kiss?" If that’s all it would take to get him to leave, she’d kiss his lips right off his face.

Loosening the grip he had around her throat, he brought his hand around her nape, steadying her for the first brush of his lips. With the slow lick of his tongue, he opened her mouth beneath his gentle pressure. When she parted for him, Extol entwined his tongue with hers and released her wrists. Instead of pushing him away with her freed hands, she fought the urge, and fisted them against her sides. To her amazement, he quickly pulled away.

"Molly Shirley, I should have tried that the last time.”

“The last time…what?”

He shook his head as if to clear it. “I will find you after the next rain."

With her legs still curled around the doorway, she frowned at him. "But it's rainy season. It rains nearly every single day."

"Then you won't have that long to wait, will you?" Extol vanished. As in, he disappeared into thin air.

“Oh, this is my mind thinking of new ways to make me crazy!” On all fours, Molly slid in the paint, rounding the door in accelerating panic. She tried to grip the bottom of the banister but couldn't seem to make it. Her hands were soaked with sludgy paint, and her shaking knees were too weak to stand. Forcing in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and brought her hands to the hem of her dress, wiping the paint from her trembling fingers with the ruined fabric. “Get a grip, Mol,” she ordered herself. “You’re tougher than this.” Flattening each hand on the sides of her thighs, she tried again to stand right when boots entered her line of vision, the toes brushing up against her knees. Molly opened her mouth and screamed so loudly, her back teeth rattled.

Oh, why did Bane have to send his most annoying brother? Why not send Mason instead. “We’re not family,” Molly groaned with her painful throat, feeling like she swallowed a glass of razorblades.

“Not family? Well, that’s a relief,” he murmured somewhere near a foot above her head, his voice eerily similar to Bane’s, “otherwise the thoughts I’m having about you might be considered
highly
inappropriate.”

Oh, she wasn’t touching that one. "How did you get here so quickly?"

"I was leaving Six Feet Under when Bane phoned."

Molly stared up at him, her eyes lingering on the marks across the front of his throat. "Well, that explains all the hickeys."

"Yeah, coitus interruptus sucks toilet water.” He gave her a thorough once over, his navy blues peeking beneath a lengthy black slash of bangs covering one side of his face. "However, I'm sure you're going to make it up to me."

"Not in the way you're expecting." She tested her legs, putting one foot in front of the other. At least they were working, even if her mind wasn't.

Ail moved to collect the shoes she had tossed off earlier. When he handed them to her, he asked, "Care to tell me what happened here?"

How to explain this, Molly had no clue. What
had
happened? "I was basically alone, wrapping up a private tour, and one of the men lingered."
And
then he kissed me like he knew me, or so I thought.
"H-he asked me out for dinner.”

“And?”

Did this Extol really exist? The man had literally vanished in front of her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Molly realized she had no other choice but to play this down. “I, uh, thought he chased me after I refused his offer.”

Ail lifted an antique doll, wiggling it with his long tapered fingers. One glass eye stayed open, while the other blinked slowly. "You got spooked, then. I guess this can be a creepy place at night, when you're by yourself."

"Sure, yeah, I was spooked." Molly patted her pocket with her free hand, relieved to find her keys intact and not covered in gooey paint. "You should put that doll down,” she said on another deep breath, trying for calm. "The volunteers who handle the interior will know if anything’s moved, even a fraction of an inch, and they'll blame me for touching stuff I'm not supposed to touch."

His lips kicked up in the corners, but he obeyed. "I hate to break it to you, Molly." Ail gestured toward the staircase. "But I think they'll be a little distracted when they see this paint mess."

What was she thinking? "Oh, my God, what am I going to do?"

"Well," he said, shaking that inky black head of his, sending up spikes in the back, "there aren't any cameras around. Make up something. Angry squirrels, rabid raccoons, females gone wild, any of the above are highly plausible with these doors opened all day. Just don't tell anyone you were afraid to go out on a date."

“I wasn’t afraid,” she snapped, hoping he would drop his inquisition.

“That’s right. I forgot that you’re married.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "Let’s go."

Well, he was one person on this planet that didn’t know Wilson had cheated on her, and this wasn’t a good time to go into it. She pulled out her keys. “I have to lock everything up.”

“Hand them over.”

She dropped them in his big palm, feeling awkward. They’d only met a couple of times, and all she knew about Ail was that he was young, in love with himself, and, like her, his big mouth always bought him a heap of trouble. “Did you see Chuck, the security guard, roaming around?”

“Nope.” He made a call. “Bane, got her. Covered in paint. She has keys, place needs to be locked up.” With his elbow, he nudged her towards the nearest door. “We’re making a brief stop at the swimming pool. I’ll find you afterwards and pitch you the keys.” Molly descended the porch stairs, Ail staying right behind her. “Molly says there was a security guard here. A guy named Chuck.” He was next to her now, taking direct path to the ancient pool. “We’re fine. Take a minute, then, maybe you’ll run into him.”

When Ail put his phone away, she asked, “Why the pool?”

“I know you haven’t seen a mirror in the past half hour, but you must feel a twinge on the sloppy side.” He glanced at the paint running down her body. “Can’t get in the car like that.”

When he started mumbling something about ruining car upholstery, Molly cut off his rant, “The paint will damage…Oh, I can’t use Thomas Edison’s pool as a bathtub. It’s historical!” Her voice was raspy and her throat painful from her earlier screams. So instead of sounding outraged, Molly sounded whiny.

“Yeah, nearly as historical as that paint you’re wearing. God knows what’s in it.” Tilting his head at the water, Ail demanded gruffly, “Don’t talk, just get in.”

“Rude,” she snapped.

“It’s a Ruyter trait, one of many.” He adjusted himself below the belt, and by the effort it took, she figured he had some serious length going on down south.
Not that she was looking
. “Want to know what the other traits are, most involve body parts?”

“No!”

“I don’t know why you’re so testy,” he said. “With your voice all gravelly from your screams of pleasure and me missing tonight’s dates, I’m the uncomfortable one. You’ve got me aching.”

Although it hurt to talk, Molly still couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Pleasure, you say? Ail, don’t even -”

A purely masculine laugh left him. “Don’t deny you cried in ecstasy when I arrived -”

“Oh,” she screeched, pointing a finger his way while dropping her shoes on the ground. “I screamed in
horror
! Wondering why my brother-n-law would think his adolescent brother could -”

He continued laughing right over her words, digging a thumb in the waistband of his jeans, tugging it low.
Why did he have to do that?
“Girl, I’ll show you adolescent. You’re going to be eating your words, and I stress
eating
.”

Oh, that mouth of his! For the life of her, she couldn’t remember why they were here.
Oh, the pool
. “No one is allowed in this pool, apart from the pool crew. Besides, it’s smacked up against the river. Tell me that’s not a snake pit, and I’ll call you a liar.” To her surprise, Ail grew serious as he edged the pool. His hand was out a fraction, his fingers wiggling a bit, and she could have sworn his lips were moving with soundless words. Was he chanting? Ah, so Ail was crazy, too. Surprises never cease. She tapped her bare foot, waiting until he was finished.

He looked back at her. “All clear.”

“What are you, the snake whisperer?”

“In the flesh.” He wore the same cocky expression as Bane. “And guess what? Not a snake in that pool wants to bite you, said you were just too ornery. And everyone knows ornery people taste bitter. So get your
bath
on, girl.”

She hastily shifted her attention to her dress. If she pulled it over her head, paint would be on her face and in her hair. The second option would be unbuttoning the long front, which would take a while considering the paint thickened around the tiny pearl buttons, practically gluing them to the buttonholes. Still, Molly decided option two sounded better than a face full of paint. So she brought her hands to the front of her dress, noticing her trembling as she was working the first button.

Looking at his watch, he said, “If you think you’re saving that dress, you’re mistaken. You’ll have to wear my shirt home.” His shirt cost more than her entire outfit, and that was saying a lot. “You’re so tiny when compared to me; it’ll come down to your knees.”

Even in her state of psychotic shock, Molly fought not to ogle his body when he tugged his shirt over his head in that unique guy way. “I don’t think I’m saving this dress, just figuring on the best way to remove it without spreading the paint to the rest of my body.”

Ail then shoved one hand deep in his pocket, hunting for something. For a second or two, his stomach pulled away from his waistband, cinching with his movements, exposing his jet-black happy trail. When was the last time she licked a happy trail? Before her thoughts could wander down that path, he pulled out something metallic. “I have a pocket knife. Turn around.”

Now behind her, Ail’s warm breath touched her ear, his hand pushing her long hair over her shoulder. When his fingertips brushed her upper back, positioning the knife across the long seam of her dress, her nipples pebbled. Yes, it had been too long. Yesterday, after she had signed those divorce papers, Molly had wanted nothing more than to commit the most outlandish atrocity she could think of – a one-night stand, which she had. At this very moment, she wanted to do it all over again. With Ail.

“Looks like your underwear came out unscathed,” he whispered huskily.

“Underwear?” Glancing down, she realized her ruined dress currently pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in her nude demi-cup bra and matching crocheted thong. If she jumped in the pool with her undies on, she’d ruin the expensive set. “Turn around, Ail.”

“Why?” If anything, he moved closer. “Your underwear’s like a bikini, really. A naughty one,” he qualified.

“True, but I’m not ruining it with pool water,” she said in her surliest voice, though it remained raspy. “So turn around.”

He huffed dramatically. “After I rescued you, I think you owe me a peek at the goods.”

She hooked her thumbs under the elastic at her hips, waiting. “I appreciate you driving over here. Really, I do. But shaking a creepy doll in my face and then escorting me to a swimming pool doesn’t constitute a rescue.”