Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.5)(25)

“Does this feel better?” he asked impatiently, yet his voice was laced with actual concern.

She nodded mutely. Tucking her hands behind her back, she tried to hide their trembling.

Frank drew her close, kissing her forehead, his hands sliding over her back. “God, I love you so much. Do you know that?”

“I’m your favorite possession, I know,” Aimee answered, unnerved. It was as if he sensed her affections might be directed at another and was trying to lay claim to her.

“I don’t want you to worry about the dhamphir. I’ve decided to keep her. It will take some time and a lot of work to bond her to me completely, but it’ll be worth it. I can ditch brokers and use her to gather all my lovely relics. And you don’t have to worry about me f*cking her. I got a little more information on her. It seems she would be a lot more interested in f*cking you.”

Aimee tensed as Frank’s hands stilled on her body. There was no way he could know about the dream. Or was there?

Frank’s voice was a dangerous purr in her ear. “Maybe, my naughty little witch, she can play with you while I watch.”

“Spoken like a true perv, Frank,” she snapped.

“Ah, so you weren’t serious about going lesbian?” Laughing, he released her and stepped into the hallway. “Getting my hopes up and then crushing them?”

Rolling her eyes, Aimee brushed past him. “You’re an *, Frank.”

Snagging her arm, Frank pulled her about. His lips were cold against hers as he lavished a long, passionate kiss upon her mouth. It took all her willpower not to jerk away.

“You’ll always be my special, favorite girl,” he whispered against her lips.

Aimee forced a smile, tilting her head slightly to one side. Beyond Frank she saw a towering figure with rippling muscles beneath a black t-shirt speaking with Ivan, the head of security. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Michael. He’s going to help prepare my security for the dhamphir.” Frank lifted an eyebrow at her. “Did he catch your eye?”

“Only because he’s not your regular goon,” Aimee answered, sensing Frank’s jealousy.

Michael glanced their way, flashing a grin that was far too charming on his very handsome face. His thick curly black hair, dark eyes, and powerful physique were the stuff of bodice rippers. “I’m not a regular goon. I’m a special goon.” Sauntering over, he held out his huge hand. “Michael De Luca.”

“Aimee,” she answered, watching her hand disappear under his fingers. His skin was very warm and it unnerved her for some reason.

Releasing her, Michael stood next to Frank, dwarfing the Frenchman. “I’m looking forward to working with you. Frank says you’re a kick ass witch with a lot of tricks up your sleeve. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

Warily, Aimee nodded. “So to speak.”

Placing a hand on Michael’s bicep, Frank grinned. “And she’s all mine.”

“Then you’re a lucky man,” Michael decided, winking at Aimee.

Bristling a bit, Frank said to Aimee, “Michael is the best. I’ve been trying to woo him into my lair for years.”

His grin broadening, a light blush touched Michael’s cheeks. “When you say things like that I feel all fluttery.”

“He’s also a wise ass, which I love. It’s an attractive trait in men, not smart-mouthed witches.” Frank smirked mirthlessly. “Michael is one of the best hunters out there.”

“Then shouldn’t you be afraid of him?” Aimee asked pointedly.

“I don’t hunt the people who employ me,” Michael assured her with another wink.

Unnerved, Aimee nodded briefly. The man was charming, handsome, and incredibly attractive, but something about him made her very nervous.

“Are you actually worried about me?” Frank asked Aimee, his voice edged dangerously with sarcasm.

“Of course,” she lied.

Frank stared at her for a long moment, “That was a lie.”

Michael sensed the growing tension and turned to Frank. “So, why don’t we go over our plans one more time before we start implementation?”

“Yes! Let’s get to it,” Frank said rubbing his hands together, his white teeth gleaming behind his cocky smile. “Time to get to work to catch me a dhamphir.”





Chapter 11: Ruminations and Revelations

Cassandra let herself into her mother’s home after stopping by the restaurant to take care of her schedule. Buzzing from the blood she had sipped from the throat of a co-worker, her body felt like it was vibrating with the power. So much for being on the blood wagon. She had fed out of necessity. In order to head out to West Texas to rescue Aimee, she needed more time off for work. The only way to persuade the restaurant manager to alter the schedule and not fire her ass was to thrall her. Cassandra didn’t like forcing others to do her will, but she had no choice.

Galina was in her small sewing room, bent over the machine Cassandra had bought her for Christmas. Much to Galina’s delight it was a high end model that could do a lot of fancy stitching.

“Hey, Mom,” Cassandra said, leaning her hip against the sewing table.

“I made you a blouse!” Galina exclaimed, holding up some pink fabric. It looked like a little girl’s top. Almost instantly, her mother’s face fell. “Oh, I made it too small.”