Page 10 of Twice Bitten
He let go, and I took a very necessary step back. His minty, earthy scentdid thingsto my ability to use my brain, the only explanation I could come up with for why it’d taken me so long to come up with the—now that I’d thought of it—obvious explanation for what was going on.
I looked up and met Jack’s icy-blue eyes, forcing myself not to get all mesmerized again. “The guy who called you,” I said. “He didn’t kidnap Brent. He’s Brent’s accomplice. No, think about it,” I continued as Jack opened his mouth. “Brent wants the artifact, and now I understand why he was willing to kill for it, because it’s horrifyingly powerful. And he’d need at least one co-conspirator, because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance of getting the other half of the thing away from you on his own. You’re not only an alpha to his not-alpha, but you’re the dominant mate, so you’ll always be a step ahead in tracking him. I’m not mistaken about that, right? That’s how werewolf mating bonds work?”
Jack nodded slowly, closing his mouth again. Hearing me out, thank the gods, because if he didn’t believe me—if he persisted in thinking that his mate was in real danger—he might go off half-cocked and get us both killed. An alpha’s instinct to protect his mate could override anything, including knowing said mate was a worthless piece of shit.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. I mean, okay, I take your point. My alpha magic gives me a lot of advantages, and he can’t exactly sneak up on me, because I’d feel him coming a mile away. And he can’t feel me nearly as strongly. I’m blocking my end of the bond as much as I can, by the way,” he added. “That’s why the credit card trick worked so well.”
“Jesus.” I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “So you blocked him with magic, and he blocked you on Facebook? You think maybe this marriage was over even without the whole cheating thing?”
To my surprise, Jack huffed a laugh, though it sounded a touch bitter. “Yeah, you think? It was an impulse thing. We’ve only been mated for eight months.”
None of my business, none of my fucking business… “How long had you known each other before you mated?”
Jack looked away, suddenly seeming fascinated by the carpet. “Three days,” he mumbled.
“Let me guess, a whirlwind Las Vegas romance.”
I’d been joking. I’d been totally, bitchily, sarcastically joking.
But Jack’s cheeks went bright red, and the carpet was going to have a hole in it if he stared any harder.
Oh, he had to be fucking kidding me.
“You don’t need a vampire escort,” I said after a moment of counting to five and trying not to scream. “You need a fucking babysitter.”
His gaze flicked back up at last. “You volunteering?”
I bared my teeth at him, letting a little bit of fang drop. “Esther voluntold me, so lucky you,” I snarled.
For a long, long moment, Jack looked into my eyes, totally unfazed by the fangs and the attitude. Unfazed in general, which I’d started to realize might be his default state. He’d had a little outburst in the bar, and another here in the room…but those had been so brief. I’d thought at first that the anger had been the real man, with the laid-back behavior in between some kind of act, a front for his genuine self. That I had to be on my guard.
But no. No, the anger was the aberration. Could it be possible that Jack had ended up mated in Las Vegas out of…optimism? Thinking the best of someone? Hoping for true love based on a few days of…well, I could only hope it’d been a few days of amazing sex and incredible conversation, or he really was a moron.
But gods. I couldn’t even remember what that had felt like. I didn’t think I’d ever felt that way, truth be told.
“I am lucky,” he said, interrupting my spiral of jaded bitterness just in time.
“What?” I couldn’t have heard that right. Luck didn’t have much to do with theft, attempted murder, and cheating on the part of the man you’d staked all your hopes on.
For that matter, luck didn’t have much to do with this shitty motel, or with me.
“Lucky,” he repeated. “That Esther ‘voluntold’ you. Because you’re obviously a lot smarter than me, for one thing.” He stopped abruptly, his jaw snapping shut.
“And?”
Jack blinked at me. “And what?” Did he sound defensive, or was I imagining things?
I narrowed my eyes at him and stared him down. “And for the second thing?”
“There is no second thing, it’s a turn of phrase,” he growled, and pushed his way out from between me and the door, moving me aside gently but irresistibly with a hand on my shoulder.
I could still feel the imprint of it, warm and solid, as I turned around too and watched him start digging through a black duffel bag sitting on the floor by the desk. I wasn’t really much of an ass man, generally preferring the front view of whoever I fucked, but…damn. Muscles on muscleseverywhere.
I had to blink a couple of times to clear my vision, and my head, when he straightened up, holding a pair of socks.
And thank gods for that. This floor. Ugh.
“You really think Brent’s in league with the guy who called me?” Jack asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to put the socks on. He sounded…disappointed, actually, and while it made me want to roll my eyes, I got it. He’d already been betrayed several times over. I couldn’t blame him for hoping this time at least his mate hadn’t been in on another lie.
