“One can hope,” I said, and nudged her with my elbow as we left the café.
The red-haired girl watched me the whole way.
Chapter Six
I was in Kingsley’s office, waiting.
These days, Kingsley employs male receptionists and secretaries. I might have had something to do with that. Kingsley, a known playboy, didn’t need the temptation. Did I trust him these days? Mostly. Did he need a blond bimbo leaning over his desk with her cleavage showing, looking to move up in the world of paralegals? Hell, no.
I knew he loved me, and I seriously doubted he would do anything to screw this up again. Then again...
“Once a cheater, always a cheater,” or so my sister liked to tell me.
Except I knew that Kingsley was looking for something more, something real, and something with another immortal. Truth was, my own choices were quite limited, since I tended to turn mortals into love slaves. Not a bad idea in theory, but in practice, it was miserable. Try getting through your day when another is literally waiting on you hand and foot, and mostly underfoot.
Yesss, came a voice deep within me.
Of course, she would approve. For all I knew, she was instrumental in creating the love slave bond-thing. Which made sense, since she wanted to enslave me, too. To control me completely and totally.
I continued walking through Kingsley’s spacious office. The hairy oaf was still into his moons. Everywhere I looked was another full moon. In fact, he had some new additions since the last time I’d been here. The moon globe was new, as was the moon mouse pad and, yes, there was an actual moon rock fragment sitting inside a glass case next to his wet bar. A single spotlight shone down on the rock, which itself was encased in a domed glass. How the man had acquired it, I didn’t know. Could you buy moon rocks on eBay?
I was leaning down, peering at it closely, when I heard the door whisper open, and felt a presence enter the room. A very big presence. “It’s from the Apollo 14 mission,” said a deep voice from behind me, so deep that I seemingly felt it in my own chest. Hell, if I listened close enough, I would have probably heard the glass case rattle. “It’s also highly illegal to own it.”
“I should turn you in, counselor,” I said, turning.
I hadn’t even made a complete turn when the big guy pounced, faster than he had any right to pounce, defying physics and, no doubt, straining his expensive suit to the limit. He was on me before I knew it, turning me all the way around, his mouth covering mine, his hair hanging down all over me. To say that he smothered me would be an understatement. To say that I didn’t love it would be a lie.
It took all my willpower to push him off me, which I did. He didn’t go willingly.
“Down boy,” I said, using nearly all my strength to pry the big lug nut off me.
He pushed back his mane of thick hair. He propped a hand on the wall above me and leaned down. I could have been in the shadow of a giant sequoia. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
I stepped under his arm, ducking, although I didn’t need to duck. I adjusted my shirt and hair, both of which had been thoroughly groped and mauled and pulled by his giant man-hands.
“I had the strong need to be felt up,” I said.
“Really?” He moved toward me again, clearly moved by my romantic words.
“No, ding-a-ling.” I held him back at arm’s length. The thing about dating a known playboy and an alpha male is, well, they have a high testosterone level, and they know how to get what they want. And they’re used to getting what they want. The trick is to make them earn it. Work for it. Beg for it.
But now, of course, wasn’t the time or place for any of that, as much as I liked to see Kingsley beg. I asked, “Do you know a man named Gunther Kessler?”
He blinked...and seemed to deflate a little, which wasn’t a bad thing, under the circumstances. Kingsley all hopped-up on testosterone and adrenaline tended not to be the best conversationalist.
He sighed and crossed his arms and sat on the corner of his oversized desk. I might have thought he was compensating with such a huge desk...but I knew better. The man wasn’t compensating. He was just huge, and growing steadily at the same time. Yes, the big oaf was only getting oafier as the years went on. How big he would eventually get remained to be seen.
“No, why?” he asked.
Unlike Allison and most mortals, I didn’t have a telepathic link with Kingsley and other immortals. That wasn’t quite true. I did have a telepathic link to the Librarian, who was immortal via alchemical means.
Anyway, Kingsley couldn’t read my mind, nor I his, which was probably a good thing.
“He’s a werewolf,” I said. “I think.”
Kingsley raised an eyebrow—an eyebrow that was one or two tweezings away from being a unibrow. “I don’t know all the werewolves in the area. Some, but not all.”
“How many are in the area?” I asked.
“A few dozen of us, but this is also Southern California.”
“Werewolf mecca of the universe?” I said.
“No, but a highly populated part of the country, although you will generally find more werewolves up north.”
“Where it’s cooler,” I said.
“We do tend to be on the plus size,” he said. “So, what about this guy?” Kingsley crossed his arms over a massive chest.
Did I detect a hint of jealousy?
“He’s a killer,” I said. “I think.”
“What do you mean?”
I told him what I knew about Gunther. About talking in his sleep. About the cabin in the mountains. About the killing room. About the feeding.
Kingsley stared at me while I spoke. In fact, I was fairly certain he didn’t blink either.
Just a couple of freaks.
The difference being, of course, his eyes glowed amber. What color mine glowed, I hadn’t a clue, since I hadn’t seen them in nine years. My sister had told me that my eyes had turned a darkish brown, almost black. They had once been blue. I sighed at that all over again.
When I was finished, Kingsley pushed off the desk and walked over to the wet bar, where he poured himself a finger or two of Crystal Skull vodka, which seemed fitting under the circumstances.
“Some werewolves hunger for fresh blood,” he said. “Or live food.”
“You don’t,” I said, and it was a memory I would rather forget. The one time Kingsley had escaped his own “safe room,” which was deep under his estate home, he had gone straight to a local cemetery...and dug up a freshly buried body. That he had consumed it was something that should have been a dealbreaker for me. Luckily, Kingsley didn’t have much control over himself when he was in his changeling state.