He tossed the bag on the floor and faced her. Questions about his blood could wait. Questions about the shower had to wait, too.
“What is that?” She jabbed a finger at the bag.
He squared his shoulders, as if preparing for a fight. “My things.”
Duh. “Why did you bring your things here?” Don’t say you’ll be staying. Don’t you dare say you’ll be staying.
“I’ll be staying for a while.” His chin lifted, his violet eyes blazed. Just then he was total determination. “You know, moving in.”
She shook her head, the panic rising in a tide of bile and ice. She’d never allowed a man to move in with her, not even for a single night, and she never would. Not even this one. Especially not this one. Resisting him was already a losing battle. If they were together every minute of every day, and every sultry night, she wouldn’t just lose; she would end up in flames, a pile of ash.
“I live alone,” she squeaked. “Always.”
He crossed his arms over his chest a familiar action that caused his shirt to strain against his biceps. Those perfectly defined, sinewy biceps. She licked her lips, and his still blazing gaze tracked every millimeter of movement. He’s killing me …
“I’m tired of racing from my place to yours, then yours to mine.”
First, he’d done that once, maybe twice. Second, “You have a place?”
He nodded stiffly.
“And that’s where you showered?” The question slipped out before she could stop it. Nicely, as planned.
“No.” His face scrunched with disgust. “I used one of those public places, since I didn’t want to arrive here dirty. Thankfully, though, I’ll never have to use one again. Now that I live with you.”
Even her relief that he hadn’t used some other girl’s shower didn’t stop her from yelling, “No, no, no.”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
“No!” She stomped her foot.
A mix of anger and confusion flashed over his features before his expression smoothed, and he regarded her with adoring patience. “Be reasonable, Ava, darling. We’re working together. Helping each other. Every minute we spend together is for the greater good.”
Darling, he’d called her, nearly melting her. He was up to something. She knew it, but that adoration … that patience … as if he was willing to do anything to spend a single moment in her presence …
Stay strong. “Greater good, huh? How?”
“What did you learn about Johnny?” An answer in the form of a question.
He couldn’t know that. Yet. “Johnny’s sick.” And Ava did need to guard McKell. Oh, God. She was caving, trying to talk herself into saying yes to cohabitating.
“So that was the queen I encountered?”
“Yes.” Might as well tell him the rest. “And now she wants you.”
“Me?” He blinked but otherwise remained unconcerned. “Why would she—wait. How do you know she wants me?”
Now was not the time for that discussion. How would he react if he knew she’d spoken to her diseased ex? And, really, having him here, for a little while and only a little while, might not be so bad. Guarding him was important. She could protect him from the Schön queen. Be there, ready to strike, to save the day.
Talk about earning respect.
“I’ll let you stay,” she said with difficulty. “On one condition.”
He grinned as if he’d just discovered a human blood farm. “I’ve noticed that with you, there is always a condition.”
Hey! “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” He reached out and smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, patient and adoring again. “Now, tell me about this condition.”
A tremor slid the length of her spine. How was she supposed to resist him when he did things like that? “I, well, need another sample of your blood.”
“Why?” he asked, arm falling back to his side.
“For AIR.”
“Again, why?”
“They’re looking for a cure for the Schön disease.”
“And they think my blood will help?”
Did he know how powerful his blood was? Did he know how easily he could turn others into vampires? Probably not. Otherwise, he might have turned Ava already. Despite the fact that feeding her that blood would wed them permanently.
Actually, no. That didn’t fit his personality. He wasn’t the type to sneak around to get what he wanted. He stated plainly, issued demands, expected those around him to obey, and that was one of the things she liked most about him.
“They won’t know until they do a few more tests. Which means they need a new sample.”
“It’s my blood. Mine.”
“I know. I need it, though. For the greater good.”
A flicker of frustration, quickly masked. “Fine. You may have another sampling. You don’t need to stab me for it, do you?” As he spoke, his voice tightened, and understanding crystalized in his eyes, lightening the violet to a rich lavender. “That’s why you stabbed me before, isn’t it?”
Uh-oh. Caught. “Let’s leave the past in the past, shall we?”
“I will if you will,” he said pointedly.
Meaning what? She had to forget the inferiority complex he’d given her? “Very well.” Maybe. He was as new to this mate business as she was, and commitment was the scariest thing on the planet. Not that they were committed, she added before any part of her could latch onto the thought of permanence. So, of course they had taken jabs at each other. Forgiveness should be easy. Should be.
“Thank you.” The grin he rewarded her with could have melted a frozen bar of chocolate. “I must admit, I expected more of a fight from you.”
“Welcome. And I’m not unreasonable, McKell.”
Melted chocolate? No, that grin widened and turned him into a living, breathing butterscotch sundae. “Shall we seal this deal with a kiss?”
The mere suggestion shot lava-hot bolts of lightning through her. “Not yet.” Yes, yes, yes. “First, a few ground rules about Chez Sans.”
Good-bye, grin. “I’ve already agreed to your condition.”
“Yes, and now you need to agree to the rules.” If she didn’t voice them now, she never would. And was she truly talking with such speed? Trying to get to that kiss? “One, no leaving your shit around. Two, no walking around naked. Three, no guests. Four, you sleep on the couch. Five, no making calls and jacking up my phone bill. Six, don’t ask me to add anyone else to my security ID. It’s not gonna happen. Seven, don’t leave crumbs of any kind anywhere. Eight, you have to pay rent. Nine, my stuff is my stuff. Leave it alone. Ten, no killing anyone or even drinking from anyone—like, say, delivery boys—on the premises.”