Chelsea Fine - Avow

She made another throat noise.

Gabriel stared at her. “Must you huff and puff every two minutes? Can’t you just hang in bitterness and betrayal like me without making throaty sounds?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are my throaty sounds bothering you? I’ll be sure to zip them right up so your stay at the Hostage Hotel from Hell is more enjoyable,” she said. “I’m dirty and tired and I’m pretty sure I’m starting to hallucinate because, a second ago, I saw a cup of coffee hovering above your head. So I’ll huff and puff if I want to!”

“Wow.” He nodded. “Your coffee habit is ridiculous.”

“Shut up.”

He looked around with a sigh. “Why do you think Raven kidnapped us?”

“She wants the map to the Fountain of Youth. I think Scarlet is supposed to hand the map over to Raven in return for our lives. Or at least, my life. I have no idea why Raven kidnapped you—other than to take off your clothes and feel you up.”

“Hello children,” called a deceptively friendly voice from the other side of the warehouse. Raven stepped into sight and winked at Gabriel. “Hanging in there?”

He sneered at her.

“Don’t do that, lover.” She tsked. “It distorts that handsome face of yours.” She looked at his neck. “Looks like you’re all better. Now we’re even.”

Not even close, whack job.

She skimmed his neck with her fingers.

“Stop touching me,” he said.

She gripped his throat and squeezed for a moment, her sharp nails sinking into his skin as she cut off his oxygen.

“Be nice, Gabriel,” she said with a smile as he choked. Then she released him.

Walking over to the table, Raven picked up the needle and tubing she’d used on him before and injected the needle into him again. Soon a steady stream of red flowed from his neck into a second plastic blood bag.

He tilted his head to better watch her. “What are you going to do with my blood?”

“Get my every wish.”

Cryptic.

Awesome.

Finished with his blood, Raven undid the needle and tubing from Gabriel’s body and glanced at the door. “Guards!”

Five Ashmen entered the room and obediently stood guard in a circle around Heather and Gabriel.

“Nighty-night,” Raven said before exiting the room.

Heather’s mouth hung open. “She’s leaving us here all night?”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “I’m pretty sure that’s how the whole kidnap/ransom thing works.”

Heather wrinkled her nose at the nearest Ashman. “Well this sucks.”

A few minutes of silence passed before Heather made a throaty noise.

Gabriel blinked at her. “Seriously?”

“Shut up,” she huffed.

It was going to be a long night.

Scarlet’s body was clean, but her conscience felt dirty.

Very dirty.

Tristan knew. Well, he didn’t know , but he knew. And Scarlet didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep his curious eyes from diving into her soul and coaxing out her secret.

Judging by how very much she’d enjoyed the Tristan tent he’d trapped her in when they’d been in the basement hallway, not long.

They were in the office now, with Nate sitting at the desk staring at a computer screen and Scarlet and Tristan standing behind him on either side. They’d been trying to pinpoint possible Raven locations for the past hour.

Tristan stood with his arms crossed. He’d showered after her and was now wearing a black T-shirt and faded jeans, and his dark hair was still wet and fell around his head in a tousled way that was too sexy for his own good.

Scarlet wanted to run her hands through it—but oh wait. That could kill him.

Definitely too sexy for his own good.

He looked up at her with his green don’t-lie-to-me-woman eyes and Scarlet dropped her guilty gaze to the mahogany desktop, searching around until she found a paperweight shaped like a pyramid to stare at.

“I’ll keep looking,” Nate said. “But it might be a good idea to head to Laura’s house tomorrow and ransack the place looking for any clues as to where Raven might hole up with an immortal guy and an overdressed, blond barista.”

Scarlet could still feel Tristan’s eyes boring into her.

Paperweights were so interesting.

Nate sighed and looked at the time. “It’s only three hours until morning and we haven’t really made any progress, so I think it’s best if we all try to get some rest so we’re not completely useless tomorrow.”

Scarlet blinked away from the pyramid.

Right.

Like she was going to get any sleep knowing her best friend was probably in the trunk of Raven’s car. At least Gabriel was with her, probably, so Heather wasn’t facing the crazy witch alone.

As everyone exited the office, Scarlet headed for the stairs. She’d had to roll over the waistband of Tristan’s pajama pants four times to keep them from falling off her small hips, but still they dragged on the floor.

And his shirt—his shirt . It smelled like him and wrapped around her body like warm hands gliding over her skin, swishing as she walked. It was all she could do not to shove the material into her nose and inhale like a crazy person.

Why did he have to smell so good? Why couldn’t he smell like burnt toast or nail polish remover? It would be a lot easier to keep from shoving the shirt up her nostrils if it smelled like rubbing alcohol.

But this leather smell...

This nostalgic I live in the wild and hunt in my free time and bathe in rushing rivers smell was going to kill her. It was literally going to waft into her lungs and kill her with want and need and lack of oxygen.

She yanked at the large shirt, pulling it as far down from her nose as she could as she walked down the hallway and descended the stairs to the basement.

Tristan followed so close behind her she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. Again.

“Ten foot rule,” called Nate.

“Bite me!” Tristan hollered back, more hot breath caressing her skin with his words.

A wonderful shiver ran through her body.

Damn him and his beautiful mouth and hot breath and his leather-smelling shirt.

She assumed he was headed to his own room in the basement, but when she walked into the guest bedroom, he followed her inside. She turned around to tell him to leave her alone, but his bright green eyes derailed her words.

He was so pretty…

No! No. He was not pretty. He was in danger of dying.

Focus on the danger, Scarlet.

She glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping with you.”

Was he insane?

She lifted a brow. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I’m concerned . Not mad.”

“Huh. Well either way you’re not sleeping with me.”

“Yes, I am.”

He was insane.

“No,” Scarlet repeated. “You’re not. You could die, Tristan. We can’t touch and we certainly can’t…sleep together.” She felt her face flush.

A look of amusement crossed his face. “I meant sleep , Scar.”

“Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to wake up next to a corpse, so, like…scram.”

“No.”

She moved to push him out the door—on the off chance that she’d suddenly obtained superhuman strength and would be able to move his big body—but he reflexively drew back from her hands, keeping himself from her reach.

He froze for a moment and stared at her hands in a weird way.

“What?” She suddenly felt nervous and dropped her arms.

His lips parted in awe as he tilted his head to the side and looked her over.

Happiness. Relief. Wonder… His emotions were all warm and fuzzy.