Part 8 (1/2)
The cat hissed. For a moment, its fangs looked lethal. Recoiling, Jamie shrank back.
”Hey,” Damian snapped. ”Favorite pet of Renee's or not, enough. You will learn manners.” He scooped up the cat with one hand and headed for the door.
Raphael gave her a hard look. ”Jamie. Listen to Damian and do what he says. He's your dracairon and will take care of you.”
”I can take care of myself.”
His mouth narrowed to a thin slash. ”He'd give his life for you, even though you tried to take away his.”
Simmering anger in his voice sent alarm bells clanging. Not one to mess with, any more than Damian. But she never backed away from a confrontation. And wouldn't now. ”You don't like me much, do you?”
”I don't need to like you. Damian does. I'm just his brother, and you're his mate.” He took a menacing step forward. ”But try hurting him again, and you will find out just how strong the bonds of brotherhood are.”
Canines gleamed sharp in his mouth as he flashed a wide smile. The door banged shut behind him.
Jamie dismissed the warning. She had bigger problems. Six feet of problem, with broad shoulders and long, muscled limbs. She studied Damian as he returned to the kitchen. A natural leader, he even moved with authority. Her mind raced over the possibilities. He had tremendous power and magick and was her only pathway to the book that would cure her.
She fetched another laptop, placed it on the kitchen table and powered up, clicking onto the Internet. ”We need to make a list of all the clues you have, the antique shop, what your father told you about the book.”
Damian eyed the computer the same way Renee had. ”I thought I destroyed that.”
”I had another.”
”It's not safe with that thing.”
Another one stuck in the Stone Age. ”How much do you know about computers?”
”Enough,” he a.s.serted. ”My last one was a Commodore. Are they still available?”
A sound between a snort and a laugh fled her lips. ”On eBay, maybe. Look, you have no idea what technology is like these days. This machine is pa.s.sword protected. No one can break in. I have a dozen ways to block hackers. Including a virus that will wipe out hard drives. I could wipe out yours.” She offered him a singularly sweet smile.
His face flattened. ”You already tried that once, Jamie. The poison in your kiss was lethal, but defeated. I may not know machines, but I know my enemy and they can counter any protective measures you impose.”
Gone was the gentle Damian, replaced by a hardened warrior who would never allow his guard down. Suddenly his hand shot out, captured something. Jamie twisted in the chair. In his cupped palms Damian held a fly.
”Morphs can s.h.i.+ft into insects so small you can't hear them. They make perfect spies. Their brains retain intelligence, no matter what the form.”
Her breath hitched as she waited for him to crush the fly. Instead he released it out the window.
”Forget the Internet. Let's talk about the search. You're not leaving me out of this, Draicon. I want all the information you have on the book.”
”I told you, my name is Damian. And if you're thinking of finding the book on your own, you can't. The clues are all in French.” A hard smile curved his lips. ”My father's precaution against outsiders infringing on our business.”
The ringing phone interrupted. Fresh anxiety filled her as the caller introduced himself. Her hand shook as she replaced the receiver.
”That was Armand, Renee's son-in-law. He's in town. The police are releasing the body tomorrow and they're holding the funeral the next day.”
They set out to find the first clue the next morning. A few clouds scudded across the clear blue sky. Hairs p.r.i.c.kled Jamie's nape as Damian accompanied her like a warden escorting a prisoner. She shot him a sideways glance. His profile was taut skin stretched over bone, his green eyes purposeful. The broad shoulders hinted of arrogant authority. Not a werewolf to cross.
Escaping him would prove difficult.
He'd insisted on sleeping in her apartment. Jamie had pointed the way to the guest bedroom. It did no good. She'd spent the night wreathed in lush, erotic dreams. Memories of when Damian had taken her virginity.
Her hands roving over the hard muscle rippling over his wiry body. Imagining him as a wolf, loping over glade and meadow, proudly leading his pack. The hot pleasure he'd brought with his gentle touch, then the pain as he pushed himself inside. More than the burning fullness had been the overwhelming sensation of Damian filling every pore, every cell, invading her with both p.e.n.i.s and mind. Losing herself, as Damian overwhelmed her with male force and power as he thrust into her. The hard edge of l.u.s.t on his face amid her growing need to bond with him because she must obey the compelling feeling to give herself to him, and him only...
She'd awakened from the dream tangled in damp sheets, perspiration soaking her pajamas. The smell of cooking bacon drifted from the kitchen. Jamie had caved in and eaten the breakfast Damian cooked. It was pointless to resist. If Draicon magick kept her alive, she'd cater to her body's needs. Later, when the spell was broken, she could be vegetarian again.
Now, like tourists browsing for treasures, they drifted in and out of shops. At the second stop, her BlackBerry vibrated. Jamie removed it and stole a peek while Damian was scanning bookshelves. Text message from Paul, her online friend, to meet her. In the square, very public.
Jamie texted back. Can't.
Just got a new e-book reader. The latest and greatest.
Oh, wow. Her eyes widened. She nearly salivated. Her forefingers hovered over the keyboard. G.o.d, I'm such a geek.
Yeah, she was. If Paul had a new electronic toy, she was there.
Jamie responded in the affirmative and pocketed the BlackBerry.
Around noon, she sensed Damian's real purpose.
The two-story brick building they approached featured a charming balcony with wrought-iron gates. Mesh screening barred the old wood door to the antique shop. Antiques cluttered shelves in the window. Someone locked a battered bicycle to one of the crooked balcony posts.
Damian herded Jamie inside. Cramped and musty, the shop had narrow aisles wide enough for one person. She searched the walls, studying the antique rifles hung neatly on pegs, the nude paintings. She studied the gla.s.s display cases filled with silver dollars, toy soldiers and jewelry. Silent as a wolf on the prowl, Damian followed her.
He'd told her to examine the back wall. His father's favorite chair had once sat there. Damian paused before bookcases inlaid into the wall. A CD of 1930s music played softly in the background as the singer warbled ”Ain't She Sweet.”
Stark melancholy flashed across his face. The hint of vulnerability shocked her. The look vanished, replaced by a cold, a.n.a.lytical one as he caught her staring. ”Stop wasting time and start looking for it.” Curtness lashed his deep voice.
Jamie examined the wall, glad of his mood s.h.i.+ft. It reminded her what an arrogant a.s.s he was.
She scanned shelves crammed with faded dolls, Lionel trains and antique beaded purses. Next to the bookcase was a four-foot section of exposed brick. Dusting off his hands, the proprietor approached, asked if he could help them.
”I'm looking for the words of Andre Marcel. Have you seen such a book?”
The man's face was careworn, but his brown eyes were sharp. They scrutinized Damian as if studying a rare coin. ”You followed Andre Marcel?”
”Yes, but not when I was younger. It was only when I became an adult that I realized his wisdom.”
The odd exchange warned Jamie of its importance. An approving smile came over the man. He glanced about the shop, then brought over a rickety footstool. After climbing it, he reached for a book at the very top shelf and climbed down.
With a reverent look, he handed it to Damian. ”You may find this of interest.” Then sorrow flashed into his eyes. ”Mr. Marcel was an extraordinary person. Consider this a gift from an admirer.”
Damian nodded, hiding his expression as he opened the musty leather-bound book. The proprietor picked up the stool and vanished into a back room.
Jamie craned her neck to read over Damian's shoulder. Her eyebrows shot up. ”The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”