What’s New Pussycat(46)
“Okay. So first, promise me you’ll always use your nose, Martine. Paranormals like us live and die by the scent of others. You’ll get used to it if you do it more often. I know you’re a paranormal hater, but if you’ve got it, and it can save you from a bad situation, do it. There’s no damn excuse not to. If you smell Escobar, get the hell away from him.”
“Promise.”
He nodded his approval. “Good. Second, I say we figure out what to do next, starting with having someone with you at all times.”
She scoffed, making a face at him. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t need a babysitter and I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. You all have lives to lead.”
“Listen, let me be blunt. You’re doing me the favor, Martine. In return, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Clear?”
She smiled then, as though she were surprised. “I get it. Protect the death-sex mate at all costs.”
Standing and pulling her hand, he hauled Martine out of her chair, molding her body to his. “It’s not just that, Martine. Stop diminishing it because feeling things is uncomfortable for you.”
Said the pot to the kettle…
Her giggle made his gut clench. He liked when she laughed. He liked when she smiled. He liked. “I don’t like that weird thing beating hard in my chest when someone’s nice to me. What is it called again?”
Derrick traced a finger along her neck, loving the purr slipping from her throat. “I hear it’s called a heart, but that could just be a rumor. So, another confession.”
Letting her hips mold to his, she looked up at him. “Go.”
“When you disappeared the other night, I called Nat to help me figure out what to do. She asked if you’d used my laptop. We looked up your search history in the hopes of finding a clue as to where you’d disappeared.”
Martine stiffened only momentarily before she said, “So you know about the shambles my life is in, and how popular I am on Facebook these days.”
“Yeah. They were pretty harsh, huh? Especially that Lilly. Wow, she’s pissed.”
“Do you blame her? I stiffed nearly everyone I’ve ever done business with.”
“Well, you didn’t. It wasn’t exactly your fault, Martine.”
“No. It was a warlock’s fault. I suppose I should just tell all my vendors and employees and clients that, right? All those humans will totally understand I was kidnapped and held captive by magic. It’ll be almost as good a story as the one where the aliens took me to their mother ship.”
He held her tighter, splaying his hand over her ass, forcing himself to concentrate, to reassure her. “Point taken, and I’m sorry. You lost everything, didn’t you?”
Her answer was to press her face to his shoulder, to look away. “Bah. It’s nothing I can’t regain. I mean, I’ll have to assume an alias, maybe cut off all my hair and dye it—”
“Don’t you dare cut your hair off,” he ordered, grabbing a fistful and tilting her head back. He liked it long, falling over her shoulders and down her back. He liked when it trailed over his stomach when she put her glossy mouth around his cock.
“That’s not ownership I hear in your tone, is it, Farm Boy?” she teased.
Was it? Damn it. “The hell you say, Pussycat. That was fashion advice. Long hair suits you. The color suits you, too.” Yeah.
She smirked at him before returning her cheek to his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Maybe it’s time to consider a change in your life plan.” What the fuck was he saying?
“I don’t get what you mean?”
“You could always start over here. It’s safe as long as I’m around, and Cedar Glen could always use a wedding/party-planning business. God knows the mate happens often enough. Someone’s always celebrating something.”
“But Cedar Glen isn’t Manhattan.”
He chuckled against the top of her head, his hand straying to the curve where waist met hip, stroking it. “Nope. It’s better. You can breathe here—see the trees and the sky, smell the sunshine.”
Smell the sunshine? Jesus, Derrick. Who are you, John Denver? Why the push to keep her here?
Lifting her head, Martine gazed up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What’s with the brochure-like pitch, Farm Boy? It’s almost like you don’t want to get rid of me when our death-sex is done.”
He shrugged, as much to convince himself that he was indifferent to where she ended up. “Just figured your old life has hit a bump in the road, what better place to pick up the pieces and start fresh than here? In the interest of our blossoming friendship, I’m throwing out possibilities. Take them or leave them. No skin off my back.”