“Don’t answer that,” I heard Juan caution Tate, and then Bones came inside my locker room.
I was already under the cold spray of water. When Bones turned his eyes to me, I shivered, but it had nothing to do with the chilly liquid.
“Not here. It’s... inappropriate.”
Bones removed his pants and kicked off his shoes in a single motion that made my breath catch. He came toward me, reaching behind me to turn the water from cold to hot.
“Sod ’em,” he responded, kneeling in front of me. His mouth caressed my stomach. “I want you, Kitten, and you want me.” His tongue snaked out and moved lower with relentless accuracy. “That’s all I care about.”
I clutched his shoulders as my knees went weak and my worries over propriety went out the metaphorical window. The hot water poured over us in much the same manner as the blood now racing through me.
“I’m going to fall,” I warned him with a gasp.
“I’ll hold you,” he promised throatily.
I believed him.
When we emerged an hour later, my face was flushed from sex, the heat of the shower, and the look Tate gave me when I walked into my office. He was waiting for me there. Bones had stopped by the lab again for more blood extraction, per Don’s request.
“Christ, Cat, you couldn’t even wait until later to crawl into the coffin with him?” Tate asked, giving his head a disgusted shake.
That succeeded in dampening my good spirits. “First of all, none of your business, and second, how do you know we weren’t just talking?” We weren’t, but that wasn’t the point.
Tate snorted rudely. “My senses just got put on steroids, remember? Not only could I hear you—now I can smell it on you. You reek of it, even after your shower.”
God, how could I be so stupid? Frankly, I was used to being the only one with extra perceptions.
“Then I switch to my first point, which is that it’s none of your business.” No way was I going to cringe under his gaze.
Another snort, but with bitterness this time. “Yeah, you’ve made that crystal-clear.”
The pain on his face stopped my next spiteful remark. “Tate. I’m not trying to hurt you or prove anything. What happens between him and me doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
As if mentally summoned, Bones appeared in the doorway. Tate brushed by him without acknowledging his presence, throwing a last parting comment to me as he went.
“You might not be out to prove anything, but he sure as hell is. Forget him wearing your panties around his neck—he just smothered himself in your scent.”
“Ready, luv?” Bones asked, ignoring Tate.
“Is he right?” I didn’t let it drop, even though I could already guess the answer.
Bones regarded me with all seriousness. “Partially. I always want you, and you know how fighting gets my blood up, but did it cross my mind that I’d be literally rubbing his nose in it? Yes. Better he lose his illusions, fast, when it comes to you. But would I have acted any differently if we were alone? Of course not. I can’t get enough of you.”
“This isn’t going to be easy,” I grumbled as we headed toward the exit.
Bones shrugged. “Nothing worthwhile ever is.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
BONES WAS VERY BUSY the next day, pulling in his people from around the nation and even across the globe. He wanted them nearby when he told Ian that he’d found me and had hostages. Bones made me stay put while he went to my house and fetched my cat, who hadn’t been happy to be left alone for two-plus days. Then the next morning we woke up at ten, frightfully early for us both, and headed straight to the compound.
“You said you had captive vampires here, right, Kitten?” he asked after we arrived.
“Yeah, three of them, why?”
Bones clucked his tongue in contemplation. “They might be useful. Let me see them.”
Tate, Juan, and Cooper accompanied us down to the lower level where the vampires were housed. The guards averted their eyes when Bones walked past, having been instructed by Don not to interfere, but they had never seen a vampire unfettered and strolling about. Their obvious discomfort filled the air.
“In this pen we have Grumpy,” I narrated, flipping up the concealing liner that hid the vampire in his prison. It was only raised when the other guards were safely out of eyesight. Since Tate, Juan, and Cooper were juiced with Bones’ blood, they could look at him and not worry. “His real name is Dillon, or so he told us. He’s about thirty, I guess, in grave years.”
Dillon’s blue eyes widened when they met the cool, appraising brown ones. Bones nodded, indicating he was done viewing him.
“Next is Jack, but he’s known as Chirpy. He’s got a real high-pitched voice, hence the nickname. I’d say sixty? Seventy? We snagged him at a baseball game. He liked to drink the beer vendor girls.”