Page 31 of Unhallowed Murder
He’d made her a bison pot roast in the biggest crock pot she’d ever seen.
“You cook?”
“I started it in the upstairs kitchen before dawn this morning, and asked my wolves to keep an eye on it. They brought it down once I awakened. I’ve chosen a robust wine, from vineyards I own in Italy. I hope you find it goes well with the bison.”
Another thing about theold ones. If they aren’t disgustingly rich, they’re doing something very wrong.
“Thank you, for taking the time and effort to feed me.” She took a breath. “Traditionally, this requires—”
“Fuck tradition,” he interrupted. “You aren’t obligated to feed me. I’ll be thrilled if you wish to, someday, but I’ll have to see into your head enough to be certain you aren’t doing it out of a misplaced sense of right and wrong.” He caressed her bruised cheek, a whisper of a touch. “I won’t drink from you unless it’s for the right reasons, and it could be one of a hundred right reasons, but it should be intimate and special. It should bring us closer together. If it won’t do those things, I’ll wait until it will.”
She told him about her day while she ate. At first, he wasn’t amused when he discovered she’d goaded the man into striking her, but then he seemed to change his mind, as if he understood the strategy and respected it.
When she finished the story, he sat back and steepled his fingers,considering. “Give me two hours with him, and I’ll give him nightmares. I’ll force him to relive every murder he’s committed, but from the perspective of the person who died — and I’ve been inside people’s heads when they died, Iknowhow to show him the feeling. When he awakens, he’ll ask for a paper and pen so he can detail every single murder.”
“You’re sure you can do this?”
“If he’s too strong for suggestions, I’ll speak to him in his head and claim to be God. I’ll tell him he’ll have the same nightmare every night until he confesses.”
“No. If he starts talking about God in his head, the psychiatrists will get involved and everything’ll go to shit. I want him inprison.”
“I’ll make the suggestion work, and he won’t speak to anyone ofwhyhe’s choosing to confess. It might not happen right when he awakens, though. Depends on how strong his willpower is, and how much of a sociopath he is.”
“How close do you need to be from the jail?”
He hesitated a brief moment. “I can reach the county jail from our downtown billiard club.”
Ronnie’s insides somersaulted in her abdomen. She sat back and kept her face from showing emotion. “My office is in the same block.”
“Yes. I’ve stayed out of your head, Ronnie.”
He smelled of the truth, but theold onesknew how to mask their scent when they lied. She’d have to believe him until hegave her reason not to, though.
“He had a small cut near his eye — a side effect of me ramming my fist into it. I wiped my hand on my shirt. I’ve changed clothes since then, but I have it in a sealed bag, if that will help you find his mind inside the jail.”
“His location inside the jail is more important at this point. His blood will be dead by now, so I can’t use it to find him.” He gave her an appraising look before adding, “I need to tell you that I’m restricted about what I can share with you — certain details about my kind that aren’t commonly known. I’m treading terribly close to the line.”
“Don’t do anything to get yourself in hot water. If there’s anything I can do to lift those restrictions, please let me know.”
Chapter Sixteen
She’d have to let him feed from her before Abbott let him talk more freely, and no way in hell was Josef telling her that.
His little tiger asked to use his shower when she finished eating, but he didn’t point out that doing so wouldn’t wash the smell of the Amakhosi from her. The Lion King hadn’t had sex with her, but he’d still managed to get his scent all over her. Josef got the message loud and clear —Veronica Woods was under Nathan’s protection, and Josef was taking his life in his hands if he didn’t treat her right.
Not a problem, since he intended to treat her better than any princess in history.
Though the bruise on her cheek was damned hard to look at, and not killing the bastard who did it seemedwrong, but he understood why he couldn’t bring physical harm to him.
Emotional pain, though — that was fair game.
HisBellulacame out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, and shestalkedhim. The tiger wasn’t far below the surface, and he let her climb on his lap. He sat on an oversized sofa, and she pushed him sideways, so he was lying on his back, the tiger riding him. He let his cock fill, and he pulled her down to him.
He had no idea what’d brought this on, but he wasn’t arguing. He pulled her to him, but she shook her head and sat back up, riding him, her bare pussy over his slacks, his cockthrobbing. She unbuttoned his shirt, spread it open, traced his abs. Finally, his little tigress scooted back enough to unfasten his belt and trousers. She looked at her hand and it transformed into a paw, and she flexed it until the claws were out, but Josef didn’t move to defend himself. If she hurt him, he’d heal, but she might never recover from him not trusting her.
She sliced his underwear off him, turned her paw back into a hand, and moved to sit on his cock, but that was asking too much.
Josef needed to be in control the first time he entered hisBellula. He flipped her over so he was on top, and her heart skipped and faltered, but he kissed her until it raced again.
