Lover's Bite Read Free Page A

inside.
    Her things were packed and her cases stacked. A half dozen of them, at least. Designer luggage, all of it matching, made by Coach. He thought they only made handbags and shoes. And those cost a fortune. What must an entire set of Coach luggage have set her back?
    Damn, he must have left too much of her money behind if she could still afford to blow it like this.
    Sighing, he gazed at the rumpled blankets, and his throat closed up. She hadn’t made her bed—left that for the maid, along with a hefty tip on the nightstand to thank her for her trouble. The covers were untidy and thrown back to reveal the faint outline of her body on the mattress, the imprint of her head on the pillow.
    Damn.
    Before he could stop himself, Jack was crawling onto that bed, pressing his face to the place where she’d rested, inhaling her scent, and wishing it were her flesh he was lying on and not just her bed.
    Intoxicating, the essence of Topaz that lingered there.
    He sat up, put his hands in his hair and tousled it vigorously. “Snap out of it, Jack.”
    It was easier said than done, but he did manage to roll over and get off her bed and onto his feet. He reminded himself of his reason for being there, and the fact that the others were probably waiting for him in the van and might send someone looking for him at any moment. Okay, then. He slid the DVD into one of her bags and exited the room, making sure the door locked behind him.
    He stiffened his spine, hoped his yearning didn’t show on his face, and then thought, so what if it did? He wanted her, that was all. It was physical. Sexual. Lustual, if that was a word. And if it wasn’t, it should be, because it described to a T what he felt for the luscious, lovely Topaz-formerly-known-as-Tanya DuFrane, daughter of a movie star.
    A dead movie star.
    He headed along the hall to the exit, crossed the parking lot and joined the others in the van, climbing in through the already open side door and giving the interior a quick visual sweep. The back row of seats held Vixen and Seth, sitting so close together you could have fit a lumberjack on either side of them, but instead only Ilyana sat there. In the front seat, Reaper sat on the passenger side, Roxy behind the wheel, just like always. The middle row was host to Briar, who sat there with the same brooding, inwardly focused expression she’d been wearing since they pried Gregor’s shock collar off her neck. Prior to that she’d been wild, fighting them every step of the way, hissing and scratching at every opportunity like a feral cat. She’d been dangerous, untrustworthy and probably bad right to her soul. And frankly, he had preferred that to this…this shell.
    He supposed she would snap out of it sooner or later. And he would lay odds they would all be wishing her back to this state of silent brooding once she did.
    Beside Briar sat the object of his desire. Topaz. He met her eyes briefly, just to remind her that she felt it, too—this longing, this hunger—that she felt it and he knew it, and she knew he knew it. No use tiptoeing around the facts.
    Finally he lowered himself onto the seat between the two women.
    â€œAbout time,” Topaz muttered.
    Briar said nothing. She’d had very little to say since they’d rescued her from Gregor, who’d been torturing her the same way she’d personally helped him to torture Vixen. Reversal of fortune, big-time. It tended to mix a girl up, he bet.
    Her eyes were haunted.
    He couldn’t help but chuck her under the chin just a little. “Don’t look so glum, wildcat. Gregor had us both fooled.”
    She lifted her black eyes to his, but they never locked on. “He never fooled you,” she said. Her voice was dull. A monotone that echoed from lack of emotion, the way an empty room echoed from lack of furniture. “You knew what he was the whole time. You were just playing him.”
    He shrugged.