I reached out and took Dahlia’s hand, pulling her off him and putting her behind me. Just in case he decided to lash out. He stood slowly, dusting off his clothes. But he held himself together. Perhaps the patience that came with a thousand years was finally showing.
“Simple? I doubt that. This deal will be done without witnesses.”
“Not a good idea, Lena. He could fleece you later,” Dahlia said. I kept my eyes locked on Remo’s. He didn’t move, hardly even breathed. Not that he needed to, being dead and all that.
“Dahlia, go and check on our guests. Please.” What I didn’t say was that we knew she would be able to hear from upstairs.
She sucked in a sharp breath but did as I asked and left the room.
He didn’t close the distance between us, not the way I thought he would. Maybe I was a little disappointed.
I lifted my chin. “I need you and your vampires to get my brother out of the stadium. As soon as Achilles sees me, he’ll kill my brother. I can’t take the chance I won’t make it to him in time.”
Remo slid his fingers over the piercings in his chin, his dark eyes thoughtful. “How many men does this Achilles guy have?” He motioned for me to sit at the table.
I moved to the chair closest to me and sat down. “The Achilles, to be clear. And according to my reports, over a thousand.”
Remo paused in midstep. “What do you mean, the Achilles?”
“The Greek hero. Come to save the world from monsters.” I pointed at my chest. “From me and whatever other monsters Merlin dreams up.”
He sat down across from me, the bruises and cuts from his tussle with Dahlia already fading. “Achilles is here to kill you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re a monster?” His lips twitched and I realized he didn’t believe me.
I drew in a breath and let it out in a long low hiss, along with the lowering of my fangs. “Want to make something of it?”
His eyes snapped wide and he leaned back in his chair. He’d not want me in his bed now at least, now that he’d seen my fangs. More than a small part of me was hurt, and disappointed; if I was honest, I’d wanted him more than any other man I’d been around. Certainly more than Roger.
He reached across the table and scooped up one of my hands, pinning it between his. “Oh, you are an intriguing one. More than I realized.”
“Are you going to help me or not?” I pulled my hand away while I tried to keep my lips from smiling, to stop the heat that flared between us. “And I’m married. Remember? So stop with the flirting; it will get you nowhere.”
Grinning, he leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out so that he brushed up against my bare feet. A move like that shouldn’t have held as much heat as what spread up my legs. I swallowed and tucked my feet back under my seat.
“I’ll help you, for a month of feeding off you.”
“Too much!” Dahlia yelled from upstairs.
“I know that!” I yelled back.
“Sorry!”
Remo laughed. “The supernatural world hasn’t been this much fun in years. Two weeks of feeding, then.”
“I’ll give you two feedings from me,” I said, folding my hands on the table. “And one taste test.” I unwound the wrap from my wrist and tossed the saturated rag to him. My wrist wasn’t healed up, and I pressed my fingers over it to stem the steady flow.
Remo lifted the rag over his head and let it drip into his mouth. Two drops fell and he lowered the rag. His eyes had a strange look to them I’d only ever seen in clients who’d fallen in love with my baking. I had him.
“A week of feeding,” he said.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Two feedings. And not a drop more. Take it or leave it.”
“What about your brother?”
I leaned back in my seat and smiled at him. “I heard something about a rival gang in town. I’m sure I can get them to help me.”
“You are a shrewd negotiator.” He grinned. “I can’t wait until you get into trouble again. Consider the deal done.” He held out his hand and I placed mine in it. He closed down and pulled me across the table on my belly. I gasped, the wood surface slick enough I might as well have been on those satin sheets I’d imagined earlier. With a quick twist Remo spun me so my legs swung around. He grabbed my hips and sat me up so I faced him, his head now level with my chest.
“There, that’s better.” He lifted my wrist to his mouth, his eyes on mine as he licked along the wound. “I’m going to enjoy this, though I must admit I would have preferred to take it from your neck.”
I jerked my head to one side, breaking his gaze as if it were a physical thing. “You have a time limit as far as I’m concerned. You can use it to play your games or feed.”
He grunted and bent his head over my wrist. Unlike Dahlia, who’d been out cold, Remo was anything but. He latched onto my wrist as if his mouth were a suction cup, and the first drag he took . . . hurt. I closed my eyes and counted, knowing that Dahlia had had at best a minute of blood.
For Tad, I could do this. Even as with every second that passed, the pain increased, easily doubling. Sweat slid down my cheeks, neck, and arms. At fifty-eight I jerked my hand away from him. “Enough.”
Remo barely moved except to let out a long whisper. “My God.”
“Don’t use his name here,” I whispered. “Don’t.”