Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2)(38)

“Come along.”

I glanced at Dahlia. She shrugged, her eyes wide. What choice did we have if we didn’t want to fight our way out? And we’d come for a reason; I needed to find out just what Santos had on me.

How had he been able to find something that could hurt me so badly, so fast? I mean, it was like he’d been just waiting for me to show up so he could use it. Which made no sense. I’d been a Super Duper for such a short time.

“I asked you what it was exactly that Remo did to you, to turn you against him?” Santos tightened his grip on my waist, and I realized I’d zoned out on him.

“Oh, well.” I cleared my throat and made myself look around. We approached a two-story wood cabin that was, from what I could see, easily a ten-thousand-square-foot house. “He tried to push himself on me. Dahlia stopped him, and he hurt her. I realized then we’d chosen the wrong side.”

The words were stilted, and without a lot of emotion or detail, but Santos nodded. “He’s a complete control freak. Always has been. Here, let’s go to my office.” He opened the main door to the monster log house, and we stepped inside. The warmth of two large fireplaces, one at either side of the entrance hall, curled around me.

Though I wasn’t bothered by the cold, the warmth called to me. I rubbed my hands over my arms. “This is lovely.”

Dahlia snorted.

“Yes, rather lovely, the previous owner had, oh, shall we call it excellent taste.” He winked as if I were too stupid to get the pun. “He and his family were exceptionally delicious,” Santos said and then frowned at me. The fog that had slid over his eyes faded, and I smiled up at him as my belly clenched with fear.

I pushed my siren ability into my words. “You were going to take us to your office?”

His smile widened once more, a wicked smile that might have curled my toes if I hadn’t met Remo first. Good grief, what was wrong with me? Was this part of being a siren, wanting the bad boys? I sure hoped not.

“Yes, this way.” He headed to the main staircase that spread up into the second floor. Santos led the way and we followed. He glanced back several times, a slight frown on his lips. He was pushing off my suggestions faster than the Viking had.

Down a hallway to a set of double doors, and we were inside his office. Nope, wrong again.

He shut the doors behind us and locked the door with a chuckle. “Multiuse room. Please make yourselves comfortable.”

The master bedroom was so big even the king-size bed looked tiny. Across from us was a pair of French doors that led onto a wide balcony, where I could hear the bubbling of a hot tub. A thick rug covered the wooden floor near the bed, and the smell of stale sex whispered over my nose. Oh dear, this was worse than burning a million-dollar square. And yes, that was an actual recipe.

I couldn’t make my feet go farther into the room. Dahlia stayed behind me. “Now what, oh mighty leader?” she whispered.

Santos turned as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“Oh dear.”

His grin widened.

This was getting out of hand. I put everything I had into the words I spoke, fear driving me. “Santos, sit down.”

He dropped to the floor so fast it looked like his legs had been knocked out from under him. Dahlia slid to the floor beside me, her eyes clenched shut tight.

I whipped around. “Dahlia?”

“Ask him,” she managed to say, though her lips looked like she struggled to form the words. I drew a big breath and hurried to where Santos sat on the floor, his eyes fogged with confusion.

I crouched in front of him, my hand seeming to lift of its own volition as I cupped his face. He leaned into my hand with a sigh.

“Santos, where did you get that oil from? The oil that burned me?”

He purred into my hand before answering, the vibration of the sound trickling along my skin in a not unpleasant way. “Was brought to me, a week ago. A man in a suit told me if I used it on you, he would reward me. He will help me take out Remo.” He leaned harder against me and licked the palm of my hand. I forced myself to sit there and let him.

“A man in a suit?” I didn’t like where this was headed. If Theseus got his hands on the snake oil . . .

“Yes.”

I struggled to keep my voice even. “What did he look like?”

“Handsome, bright-blond hair like the sun, blue eyes like the ocean.” He sighed and nipped at my hand.

I put my hands on both sides of his face, squeezing him. “Did he have a name?”

“Theseus.”

While I wasn’t surprised, I didn’t like that he’d been planning things a week before he’d even met me. Then again, it lined up with what Ernie had said. Theseus was playing a game, like chess, but only he could see the board and the pieces.

“Can you tell me what he said exactly?” I knew I was pushing my luck. Touching him, I could feel his mind begin to revolt against the control I was exerting. I went to my knees and brought his face close to mine, so close he could see nothing but me. The struggle in him slid away.

“He said to hang on to the oil, to use it if I stumbled on a great large snake, and to keep it safe for him. He wants to humiliate you, to make you suffer.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips over mine. I pulled back.

“I need to know how much of the oil you have and where you keep it.”