“Hey, handsome.”
“Hey.”
“Whatcha doin’?”
He took a deep breath, enjoying her scent, which held hints of the ocean and the sun. “I’m putting you under my aegis.”
“What does that mean?” She frowned. “You’re kinda weird.”
“You have no idea.” He leaned closer and heard her sigh when his lips brushed against her pulse. Was he doing this for her? Or for himself? He tried to stop thinking and enjoy the anticipation of the bite.
“What are you doing?” she asked again.
“I’m going to bite your neck and drink some of your blood,” he murmured. “You won’t see the bites, but others will. And it will offer you a measure of protection until I can figure out what’s going on.”
“I didn’t hear that right.” She blinked rapidly. “You’re going to… what?”
His amnis washed over her skin, and Baojia felt the damp coastal air draw close as his energy wrapped around her. He closherher. Heed his eyes and slid his fangs into her neck. The rich taste flooded his mouth, and he felt Natalie arch her back.
“Ohhhh, that feels really good. Holy… W…what are you doing to me?”
He took only a mouthful before he grunted and forced himself back, licking the last bit of blood from his lips before he pierced his tongue and healed the delicate wounds in her neck. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the natural reaction of his flesh to hers. The sight of his marks in her neck gave him too much of a primitive thrill.
“Natalie—”
He was cut off when she kissed him. She grabbed his face with both hands and threw herself into it, moaning into his mouth as he gently pushed her away.
“Natalie, you’re under my influence. It’s—” He cleared his throat. “This is not appropriate.”
She was dazed, staring at him in confusion, hands still on his cheeks and arousal bringing a delicious flush to her pale skin. “Why not?”
“Trust me. I have a feeling if you ever remembered this, you’d be more than a little pissed off.”
She did the adorable wrinkling thing with her nose again. “I’m not going to remember this?”
“No.” He gently pushed her back and buckled her into her seat belt.
But I believe I will. For quite some time.
CHAPTER TWO
Natalie Ellis didn’t sleep in. So when the sun hit her face, she sat bolt upright in bed, looking around in confusion. Glancing down, she saw she had somehow fallen asleep in her bra and underwear and she had an odd feeling in her head. Not a headache exactly…
“Ugh.” She groaned and swung her legs over the side of her bed, almost tripping over her black ballet flats. She shook her head to clear the sleep from her eyes and pulled on a long T-shirt, then put her unruly red hair into a messy bun at the back of her head. She’d just had it cut, and the stylist had snipped off a bit too much. As a result, it was constantly falling into her face. She curled her lip in annoyance and decided she needed coffee.
“Coffee,” she whispered as she made her way to the kitchen of her small duplex in Hillcrest. She could hear Mr. Sanchez’s new Chihuahua, Pippy, yapping already. “Coffee, coffee, coffee,” she chanted, trying to ignore the high-pitched barking. It wasn’t that she didn’t like dogs. She’d grown up with a German shepherd, for goodness sake, but she wasn’t totally convinced that Chihuahuas were actual dogs. Her brain was still fuzzy, as if she’d taken a sleeping pill. Not that she ever did. Natalie didn’t need much sleep, but when she finally crashed, she went out like a light. Hitting the counter, she managed to pull out the filters and grounds, pouring in the Kona blend she treated herself to on payday.
After the coffee was started, she looked around her house again. The small living room flowed out onto a whitewashed wooden deck that was the real reason she had leased the place. It was her second house in San Diego, but the one she hoped to stay in. Close enough to downtown to ride her bike, she was within walking distance of cafes, a good market, and lots of boutiques and restaurants. The fact that she also had a friendly, grandfather-ish landlord helped too. Mr. Sanchez thought being a writer was slightly more glamorous than it actually was, but then she was fairly sure she’d heard His Girl Friday playing more than once from her side of the wall.
As if on cue, her phone rang. Where wa sts her phone? She always knew where her phone was. It was practically glued to her hand. Natalie looked around in confusion, noting the general disarray for the first time. Her nice black dress was hanging on the back of the dining room chair. Her heels were tossed by the couch. Her purse… was ringing.
Picking it up from the coffee table, she dug around, hitting answer just in time to hear her editor, Kristy, muttering.
“—least have the decency to call if she’s not coming in like she said. Don’t know—”
“I’m here, Kristy.” Shit, she sounded annoyed. It was Saturday, wasn’t it? Natalie rubbed her eyes. It had to be. She wasn’t supposed to go into the offices of the Tribune on Saturday.
“Hey! Where are you? We were supposed to meet for lunch at the Hash House, remember?”
“Oh shit,” she groaned. “What time is it?”
“How late were you out last night? Did you find him?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Find who?” She racked her brain. Where did she even go last night? Her dress said nice restaurant or club, but she didn’t remember. She blinked, the scent of coffee starting to clear her head.