Jessica Sims - Wanted - Wild Thing

Finian got to his feet. “Hugh, she’s all yours. I expect her unharmed and in perfect condition on delivery date. Understand me?”

“Understood,” Hugh said in a low, growly voice, and my eyes widened again.

As he’d spoken, I’d caught a glimpse of two long, pointy teeth. Hugh had . . . fangs.

Oh, God, this wasn’t good at all.

I’m not sure this is a smart idea,” I began, unable to stop staring at Hugh’s mouth. Had I really just seen fangs?

“Silly me, I forgot to give you a vote.” Finian got to his feet, straightened his jacket, and smoothed his lapels, as if going out for a stroll. “I’ll be by to check in every now and then. Not too often, you see, lest others start to suspect something. Wouldn’t want my prize snatched up before I get my money’s worth out of her, now, would we?”

“Heaven forbid,” I murmured, my mind whirling. I was surprisingly calm after being told that I was someone’s breeding animal and he was coming to take over my life. I guess I’d always been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now that I finally had answers, the fear of the unknown was gone. There were a million things to consider, and I had to think about a way free of this, but I wasn’t panicking.

Maybe once Finian was gone, I could reason with Hugh. Pay him off. Something. Then I could . . . what? Escape? How? I’d turn into a monster permanently in a month unless I found my Prince Charming.

And unfortunately, the prince who knew the most about me intended to breed me like a prize show dog.

It was not looking good for the home team.

I got to my feet, and Hugh did as well. I pretended not to notice and headed for the door. From the way Finian was glancing at his Rolex, it was clear that he was done with me. “When will you be back?” I asked, opening the door.

He reached out and patted my cheek, and I felt that ugly ripple under my skin once more, no doubt to remind me exactly what I was. “I’ll be back when I feel like it, precious. Don’t worry. Hugh will be standing by to ensure your safety.”

Finian turned and strolled back through the office, giving Savannah a polite smile as he headed to the door.

I wanted to scream for him to stay longer and answer more questions, but the fae did what they wanted, when they wanted. Finian had dropped his bomb, and now he was leaving.

As the door shut, I gave an unhappy sigh and turned around.

And nearly walked into Hugh’s chest.

I staggered backward. “Oh, excuse me.”

He reached for my arm to steady me, then hesitated, dropping his hand as if he remembered what I was.

“I’ll get out of your way so you can go,” I said, gesturing at the front door.

“I’m not leaving. You know this.” His voice was cool and brutal with efficiency.

How embarrassing. I gave him a sunny smile to mask my reaction and headed back to my desk.

“Everything okay?” Savannah asked in a mild voice.

“Just fine,” I said as I sat down, my smile starting to feel pinned to my mouth. “I forgot that I was going to fix up a profile for Mr. Hugh here. Isn’t that right?”

“No,” he said bluntly. But he moved to sit across from me in one of the chairs.

My eyes narrowed. Didn’t he realize that to keep my secret, we were going to have to spread a little white lie or two? “If you want to remain here at the agency with me,” I said in a low, pleasant voice, “you’ll have to have a profile set up.”

“Do what you like,” he said, rising from the chair and frowning at it. It was too small for him, the wooden arms making it impossible for him to sit comfortably. It would have been funny except for the fact that he looked as if he’d rather destroy the chair than tolerate its presence a moment longer. He turned and affected a very soldierly stance, feet spread, arms crossed over his chest.

I noticed with shock that his fingers were tipped with massive claws. Where the heck was this guy from? Were they in the Dark Ages in the fae realm? If so, they were feeding them Wheaties, because Hugh was so immensely broad and muscular that he looked as if he could crush a small car with his hands.

Savannah didn’t seem alarmed, though—just confused. She eyed him, and then me.

It was clear that if I was going to get anywhere with Hugh, I’d have to try charm. That was fine. I was good at charming people. “Hugh, sweetie, why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee?”

He glanced around the room, then at me. “I prefer to stand.”

“Yes, well, that’s impolite. You’re making me nervous,” I said with a wink at Savannah, as if to say, Oh, these crazy customers. “If the chair’s uncomfortable, I’ll get you a stool from the back room.”

I headed back into the storage room, where we had a stair step stool that doubled as a ladder. I didn’t move more than a few steps before I realized that Hugh was still following me, though. I sighed and gritted my teeth. Was this what I had to look forward to for the next month?

I was an optimist, though; I’d just have to figure out a way to get Hugh off my tail, or make the best of him being here.

I snagged the stool and turned around, doing my best to keep the pleasant expression on my face. “Since you followed me, why don’t you carry this?” I shoved it in his hands.

He stared down at the wooden stepladder. “What is this for?”

“It’s for you to sit on, since the chairs are uncomfortable.”

He snorted. “I do not need this. I will stand.”

“I prefer for you to sit.”

“A soldier does not sit on the job.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not a soldier right now,” I snapped, then inwardly berated myself for losing my temper. I needed to be nice. The Ryder everyone knew was sweet and pleasant. I smiled. “Humor me, okay?”

I swept past him without waiting for an answer.

In the main office, I could tell from Savannah’s curious look that my hulking “shadow” was right behind me. I pushed aside the two chairs and indicated that he should put the stool down. He did so, but he didn’t sit.

All right, it was a start—if a crappy one. Irritated, I headed to the coffeepot. I scooped grounds and poured water, then clicked the On button. “You want coffee, Savannah?”

No answer.

I glanced over just in time to see her face pale. She pressed a hand to her mouth and bolted for the bathroom again. “I’m going to guess that’s a no,” I said and turned to Hugh. “Do you like coffee?”

He simply watched me with those cat-eyes. “What I like does not matter.”

“Oookay, then.” It was getting harder to keep the smile on my face. “Well, I like coffee.” I sat back down at my desk and tried to concentrate. If Hugh was going to lurk around me constantly, I needed a cover story. I cast about for an idea . . .

Maybe I could tell everyone that Hugh was a shifter. That would work, since he had fangs and, um, stripes. So maybe he was some exotic-tiger shifter who was awkward around humans and needed to be taken under my wing. Except . . . 99.9 percent of the world was human, so he had to have run into people before now.

Hmmm . . . Maybe he had trouble dating, and I was acting as his life coach?

I picked up my glittery ruler and began to tap it against my palm. There had to be a good cover story somewhere. I couldn’t tell anyone, Oh, yes, I’m apparently a prize poodle, and when I hit my prime I’ll be worth a fortune, so he’s guarding me .

Because I didn’t intend to be anyone’s poodle. I was going to figure a way out of this. I was going to find my True Love, and he was going to save me from my curse, and there would be a Happily Ever After.

The coffeepot hissed steam, a signal that it was about to brew. Before I could blink an eye, Hugh lashed out at the machine.