Page 57 of Fanged Desire
Hunter uncoiled at my side, shirt tugged open as she stretched her arms above her head, cracking her back with a satisfied groan. “Indeed.”
We lay there in comfortable silence, listening to the muffled sounds of the outside world waking to a new morning. The first rays of light sliced through the office blinds, streaking the floor where we sprawled.
And despite the uncertainty, despite the guilt that would no doubt return to crush me the moment I stepped out the door, I felt something like peace in her presence. I told myself that this arrangement would work, that I could stay grounded and keep my heart in check.
But as Hunter hauled herself upright, pressing a lingering kiss to my shoulder before pulling away, I had to admit, it would be much easier said than done.
Two days later, the nerves I thought I’d managed to shake off after my unexpected night with Hunter rushed back in full force as I walked into Esmerelde Flawne’s spa.
The sleek, snazzy interior was draped in the same soft tones, the air vibrant with the stifling scent of lavender this time. I usually liked lavender, especially in bubble baths – but this scent was cloying, overpowering, clotting in my throat.
Esmerelde herself was hovering near the reception desk, chatting away with her secretary, but her gaze landed on me the moment I stepped in. “Ah, it’s you! Right on time.”
I faltered for a moment, my greeting lodged in my throat at her cheery tone. I’d been steeling myself against the scalding expression she’d turned on me the first time we’d met, but this Esmerelde was all smiles, pearly teeth and sunshine as she rounded the desk to take my hands in hers.
“It’s – uh, thanks for having me.” I stuttered the words out, searching her eyes for any hint of her previous sneering disdain. But there was none. It should have comforted me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about her.
Her fingers were noticeably cold and bony, her grip just a little too tight.
She cocked her head to the side, demonstrating a sweeping neckline and a throat coated in jewels. “Wendy, was it? I’ve got a client ready and waiting for your demonstration. Are you ready?”
“Yeah – yes. I’m ready.” I masked my feeble stammering with a smile of my own, though it felt more like a grimace on my face.
Esmerelde, however, didn’t seem to notice. She nodded curtly, gesturing to the sugared glass doors to her left. “Excellent. She’s waiting in there, you’re welcome to go in and introduce yourself. I’ll join you in a moment.”
Before I could muster a response, Esmerelde had already turned back to the receptionist, dismissing me with a flourish of her hand.
“All right then, I’ll just…” I backed away, edging toward the glass doors and willing myself to get it together.
Considering all the time I’d poured into my investigations with Hunter, amongst… other things, I realized then and there that I was woefully unprepared to pull off this charade. I swallowed, cursing myself for not putting more time aside to prepare for what was supposed to be a demonstration of some fancy new massage routine.
I hadn’t even thought about the mechanics, let alone a strategy to get through it convincingly. How hard could it be, though, right? I was a doctor, I’d spent years studying muscles and bones and pressure points. The worst that could happen was… who knows, accidentally elbowing someone in the face?
I took a deep breath, adjusted my shirt, and stepped through the glass door – trying to channel what little calm and confidence I had left.
The door slid shut behind me with a soft click and I glanced around, taking in the subtle elegance of the massage room. My “client” was already there, seated on the edge of the massage table, her back to me. She was blonde, poised, tall and lithe, draped in a sleek black coat that looked entirely out of place in the soft ambiance of the spa.
My pulse thrummed in my ears as I straightened up.
"Uh, hi," I started, my voice wavering slightly. "I'm Wendy, and I'll be–"
The woman’s head turned slowly, and my voice died in my throat.
I took in familiar, dark, oversized sunglasses, masking an already unreadable expression. But even with half her face obscured, I recognized her immediately.
My stomach dropped like a stone, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
Of all people, of all places. The very person Hunter and I had been painstakingly tracking down was sitting right in front ofme, looking every bit as composed and uncomfortably lethal as she was in my nightmares.
Catherine Raine’s lips curled into a faint, polite smile, and she gestured for me to approach.
“Hi there. Wendy, is it?” her voice was a purr, disarmingly friendly. “Esmerelde said you’d be taking care of me today.”
I forced myself to smile back, swallowing down the lump of panic in my throat.
“Yes… that’s right,” I managed, pinned by her gaze even behind those opaque lenses.
Cathy tilted her sunglasses down, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her eyes and I had to keep myself from gasping.
