"Of course." And with a sudden burst of confidence, she rose on her toes and kissed his chin-which was as high as she could manage. He didn't help, but his eyes were smiling when she finished.
"Good," he said, though whether to the kiss or to her agreement to lock the door he left deliberately up in the air.
He'd reached the door when she remembered there was something he should know. "He didn't know anything about the vampires."
When Charles looked back at her, she said, "I told him I killed one of his vampires, and he didn't have any idea what I was talking about."
"Chastel never was a good suspect for bringing in vampires," Charles said. "But it is good to know for sure."
He smiled at her. Then, with a nod at Ric, he left, shutting the door behind him. She waited a moment.
"Anna." Charles's voice carried through the metal door, and so did the exasperation.
She grinned at Ric and turned the dead bolt. Charles tapped the door and left. She couldn't hear him, but she could feel him move farther away from her.
It had felt good to defend herself against Chastel, even if it was only with words. She was tired of being afraid of her own shadow-and for a little while she hadn't been afraid at all. She liked it.
With the fae supervising the hunt, not to mention Charles observing (he wouldn't join the hunt; like Angus, he was one of the hosts), she would be as safe there as she would ever be surrounded by Alphas.
She turned to Ric. "If your Alpha agrees to help play bodyguard, I'd love to join the hunt tonight."
He nodded. "I'll ask him."
SUNNY frowned at the nail she'd chipped as she took the elevator down to the parking garage. Arthur was tied up in werewolf functions tonight, so she'd taken the opportunity to have dinner with some friends.
She didn't have any close female friends-it is a hard thing not to tell a friend that the reason your husband looks so young is because he's a werewolf. And friends you have for a long time tend to notice things like your husband's not aging at all. So she had condos in various cities, and when she'd lived in a place off and on for a decade or so, she would uproot and move somewhere no one knew her. She'd write letters or e-mails for a few months, then let the friendship drift away.
These women she'd known for a couple of years, casual friends who liked to go out without husband or boyfriend once in a while and talk girl stuff. She'd met them at the gym, and they shared no real interests, but they were smart, funny, and easy to talk to on a superficial level. They made her feel connected, not so alone.
She'd left them before dessert, though, because she didn't trust herself not to indulge. The restaurant they'd chosen was justly famous for its exotic cheesecake. She hadn't kept her figure by allowing herself to sample food she might like too much-and she'd noticed it was getting dark. Arthur didn't like it when she was out too late, he worried about her.
The elevator opened onto the right level for her car. The light next to the elevator was out. She hurried through the darkness until the next light, then felt silly for her anxiousness.
Someone on the other side of the garage was arguing with his girlfriend. Neither of them was very upset. Probably foreplay, she thought. She and Arthur indulged, and she recognized the tone.
She looked, but she couldn't see the couple because an SUV was in the way. Before she got a clear view, the sound of car doors shutting cut off the sound of their bickering. A car engine started, and a silver Porsche passed by, its lights momentarily blinding her.
She dropped her keys and started to kneel and pick them up. Someone's hand was there first.
"Allow me." The man was taller than her Arthur, though not as wide through the shoulders. For a minute she was worried-as any woman alone in a parking garage with a stranger would be. But then she saw the cut of his wool coat: thugs wouldn't wear expensive coats and white linen shirts.
"Thank you," she said as she took her keys out of the leather-gloved hand that held them out to her.
"No troubles," he said. "You'll forgive me the question-but what is a lovely woman like you doing out here all alone?"
Part of her preened under his obvious admiration-she knew her aging distressed Arthur. The honest appreciation in a handsome man's eyes soothed a growing wound in her heart. This man looked to be a few years older than she, and his manners were gallant.
"I was dining with friends," she told him. "My husband is waiting for me."
"Ah" He opened his fingers as if he'd held something precious he had to let go. It was so artfully done that she was certain he had to be an actor or maybe a dancer. "I should have known that such a lovely woman would not be left free-but a man lives on hope. Your accent is charming-you are British?"
"Yes. And so is my husband. Thank you for the keys and the compliment." She smiled at him and headed for her car with brisk strides that would let him understand that, although she appreciated his admiration, she was not available. The smile stayed on her face, warmed a little, as soon as she had her back to him.
She pressed the button that unlocked her car and opened the door-and a hand closed around her mouth.
"Forgive me a little harmless flirtation," he said in her ear. "It seemed a kindness I could give. I regret that your death will not be so kind. My employer failed me-and so I no longer have to follow his so-explicit instructions. My friends are sad, and a little play will make them feel so much better."
She screamed, but the faint noise that escaped his hand wouldn't travel far.
His free hand petted her face as he whispered, his breath smelling like peppermint, "I'll see to it that your husband knows that you didn't flirt with me. That you were faithful to him unto death. Will that soothe him, do you think?"