Yvette's Haven
Page 22
“Long enough.” Her evil grin was evident in her voice and confirmed that she’d caught onto his line of thinking. Sooner or later, Yvette would get hungry—for blood.
Yvette’s defiant glare told him she was a fighter, and the way she’d protected Kimberly indicated she was loyal. But if he’d learned one thing about vampires while fighting them over the years, it was that when their hunger for blood became too severe, they would lose control, and nobody was safe. Yvette might be controlled by her learned behavior now, but what would happen when she was controlled by her survival instinct? Could he allow his scruples to get in the way of rational thinking?
“Guess you’ll have to kill her after all.” The witch’s voice grated on his nerves. Hell, just to defy her, he’d let Yvette live—and only for that reason. Not because his body revolted each time he tried to come up with a reason to kill her. Since when did he even need a reason to kill a vampire? The murder of his mother and disappearance of his baby sister should be justification enough to stake her without a second thought.
“Give me the stake,” Wesley demanded. “I’ll do it if you can’t.”
“No, you won’t!” Kimberly’s determined shout stunned him. She leapt up from her cot and pushed in front of Yvette, spreading her arms out protectively to shield her bodyguard. “You think I wanna be locked up with the two of you alone? Like I don’t know what guys like you want from a pretty girl like me.”
Behind her, even Yvette couldn’t seem to control her smirk despite the seriousness of the situation. Haven rolled his eyes; it had never even crossed his mind to touch the girl inappropriately. For some reason, while she was certainly pretty, nothing stirred when he looked at her. Now, the same thing couldn’t be said for the way his body reacted to Yvette.
“Thanks, Kimberly. I’m glad we’re of one mind here, because I have no intention of leaving you alone with those two.” Yvette sent a pointed look his way, but there was little fire behind her words. Not the kind of fire he’d seen in her when she’d first awakened after being unconscious. The fire that had shot from her mouth then had been hotter and more potent than dragonfire. And despite the explosiveness of the situation he’d found himself in when she’d pinned him against the wall, he’d almost looked forward to being singed by her flames. Which was stupid and totally out of character for him; he wasn’t the hotheaded one of the family: Wesley was.
“God, this is annoying. You should have killed her when she was unconscious,” Bess nagged, letting out an exasperated breath. “Well, nevermind. I’m sure you’ll come to your senses, but for now, you, Haven, are next.”
She stepped over the threshold and crooked her finger. As if pulled by strings, Haven’s body moved toward her. “What the—?”
“Don’t fight her, Hav,” Wesley cautioned. Then he reached for him. “And leave me the stake.”
Haven twisted his body and gripped the stake. Not a chance in hell. He wouldn’t part with the stake.
Eight Hidden behind a row of bushes and set back from the quiet side street it inhabited, the place looked unassuming. Zane turned the spare key in the lock and let himself into Yvette’s house. There was no sound. He let his senses swirl around the place, feeling for anything that was alive, but all he detected was the faint scent of Yvette and that dog. Not her dog, she’d said. Right.
Why couldn’t she admit that she’d taken in the stray and adopted it? All evidence pointed to it: the feeding bowls with dry food and water, and the doggie door to the backyard. Ridiculous how somebody could be in such denial about wanting to form an attachment to something or someone.
Zane explored the little two-bedroom house. Its decorations seemed warm and comforting and in stark contrast to Yvette’s outer shell—not at all what he’d thought he’d find. Somehow he’d expected a black-and-white modern, sparsely furnished house. What he saw all around him was quintessential Town and Country: pillows, warm colors, ornaments, and frilly curtains galore.
No wonder she’d never invited any of her colleagues to her home, even though they’d all pestered her to throw a housewarming party after she’d bought the house a couple of months earlier. If she knew he was sneaking around her home now, she’d probably stake him without ceremony. Not that he could blame her; he’d do the same to anybody who showed up uninvited in his place and poked his nose into his business.
“Dog?” he called out, but the beast didn’t reply. Zane couldn’t sense it anywhere. Had Yvette taken it with her, or had the animal run away? Just when he thought that the dog could come in handy, like maybe being able to sniff out where Yvette had disappeared to. It seemed to be able to follow her everywhere in the city. Maybe if he could locate the dog, Yvette wouldn’t be far.
Yvette’s defiant glare told him she was a fighter, and the way she’d protected Kimberly indicated she was loyal. But if he’d learned one thing about vampires while fighting them over the years, it was that when their hunger for blood became too severe, they would lose control, and nobody was safe. Yvette might be controlled by her learned behavior now, but what would happen when she was controlled by her survival instinct? Could he allow his scruples to get in the way of rational thinking?
“Guess you’ll have to kill her after all.” The witch’s voice grated on his nerves. Hell, just to defy her, he’d let Yvette live—and only for that reason. Not because his body revolted each time he tried to come up with a reason to kill her. Since when did he even need a reason to kill a vampire? The murder of his mother and disappearance of his baby sister should be justification enough to stake her without a second thought.
“Give me the stake,” Wesley demanded. “I’ll do it if you can’t.”
“No, you won’t!” Kimberly’s determined shout stunned him. She leapt up from her cot and pushed in front of Yvette, spreading her arms out protectively to shield her bodyguard. “You think I wanna be locked up with the two of you alone? Like I don’t know what guys like you want from a pretty girl like me.”
Behind her, even Yvette couldn’t seem to control her smirk despite the seriousness of the situation. Haven rolled his eyes; it had never even crossed his mind to touch the girl inappropriately. For some reason, while she was certainly pretty, nothing stirred when he looked at her. Now, the same thing couldn’t be said for the way his body reacted to Yvette.
“Thanks, Kimberly. I’m glad we’re of one mind here, because I have no intention of leaving you alone with those two.” Yvette sent a pointed look his way, but there was little fire behind her words. Not the kind of fire he’d seen in her when she’d first awakened after being unconscious. The fire that had shot from her mouth then had been hotter and more potent than dragonfire. And despite the explosiveness of the situation he’d found himself in when she’d pinned him against the wall, he’d almost looked forward to being singed by her flames. Which was stupid and totally out of character for him; he wasn’t the hotheaded one of the family: Wesley was.
“God, this is annoying. You should have killed her when she was unconscious,” Bess nagged, letting out an exasperated breath. “Well, nevermind. I’m sure you’ll come to your senses, but for now, you, Haven, are next.”
She stepped over the threshold and crooked her finger. As if pulled by strings, Haven’s body moved toward her. “What the—?”
“Don’t fight her, Hav,” Wesley cautioned. Then he reached for him. “And leave me the stake.”
Haven twisted his body and gripped the stake. Not a chance in hell. He wouldn’t part with the stake.
Eight Hidden behind a row of bushes and set back from the quiet side street it inhabited, the place looked unassuming. Zane turned the spare key in the lock and let himself into Yvette’s house. There was no sound. He let his senses swirl around the place, feeling for anything that was alive, but all he detected was the faint scent of Yvette and that dog. Not her dog, she’d said. Right.
Why couldn’t she admit that she’d taken in the stray and adopted it? All evidence pointed to it: the feeding bowls with dry food and water, and the doggie door to the backyard. Ridiculous how somebody could be in such denial about wanting to form an attachment to something or someone.
Zane explored the little two-bedroom house. Its decorations seemed warm and comforting and in stark contrast to Yvette’s outer shell—not at all what he’d thought he’d find. Somehow he’d expected a black-and-white modern, sparsely furnished house. What he saw all around him was quintessential Town and Country: pillows, warm colors, ornaments, and frilly curtains galore.
No wonder she’d never invited any of her colleagues to her home, even though they’d all pestered her to throw a housewarming party after she’d bought the house a couple of months earlier. If she knew he was sneaking around her home now, she’d probably stake him without ceremony. Not that he could blame her; he’d do the same to anybody who showed up uninvited in his place and poked his nose into his business.
“Dog?” he called out, but the beast didn’t reply. Zane couldn’t sense it anywhere. Had Yvette taken it with her, or had the animal run away? Just when he thought that the dog could come in handy, like maybe being able to sniff out where Yvette had disappeared to. It seemed to be able to follow her everywhere in the city. Maybe if he could locate the dog, Yvette wouldn’t be far.
