Love Like Cyanide - chapter 10
Alpha Idol Paranormal Romance
Chapter 10: Natalie
I roll the still very-full mug of root beer back and forth between my fingers, seeking guidance from the opaque brown depths.
“What’s something that’ll take a potential partner, single occurrence or long-term, from a total yes to a no-fucking-way?”
He doesn’t even hesitate with his answer. “Two things that tend to get wound together. Caring about the fame rather than me, as a person. And desperation.” Valentine pauses. “But not in an ‘I need you so badly my heart with explode’ kind of way. The desperation is a bit harder to explain, I guess.”
I shrug. “I don’t know the best way to put it into words, but I think I understand what you’re talking about.”
I take a slow, lingering sip of the soda, delaying the inevitable and mentally bracing myself for the interrogation. “Your turn,” I offer with a sigh.
He chuffs softly. “Your shoulders just tensed up, Doc.”
I roll the straw between my teeth, resisting the urge to bite it. “And you, alpha, are entirely too observant. Quit that shit, would ya?”
“Pfft. Has nothing to do with being an alpha, and everything to do with keeping the peace between six other grown men. Mostly. Lots of things to pay attention to and adjust for.”
I give him silent, steady eye contact until it becomes too intense and I avert my gaze to the side. “That sounds absolutely exhausting.”
He nods once. “That’s why I go on solo outings like this, sometimes. I love them all, but they’re a lot to be around all the time. It’s like having six brothers, and your entire family has a business together, too.” He sighs and I open my mouth, but he gives me that easy, infectious smile before I can point out that my presence makes this not a solo outing.
His next words are the cold tip of a dagger pressed between my shoulder blades. “I’m a little chilly, Nat. So, let’s crank up the heat a bit. All three of my questions will be spicy, but you still get to choose Love or Hate.”
I do my best not to panic. “Love for the first one.”
Not skipping a beat, he asks: “When was the last time you got laid?”
I nearly choke to death on my root beer. I cough into my elbow and inhale deeply through my nose. My brain rapid-fire rolls over a million ways I could try and cover up what happened, for my own protection and Dante’s. But he hadn’t asked who, only when. And since I’m fairly certain Valentine knows anyway… “A little over a month ago. And love had nothing to do with it.”
“Did hate have anything to do with it?”
I whistle softly, leaning an elbow on the edge of the table and turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. Hell, your room shared a wall with mine, didn’t it? You tell me what it sounded like, Val.” I feel myself bristling from the accusatory tone in his words.
He closes his eyes and a small shiver wracks his shoulders. My pulse ratchets up, a combination of my simmering anger and the sudden sense that I could genuinely be in danger. “It sounded like he knows what he’s doing.”
Heat blossoms in my cheeks, because he’s not wrong, and he settles dark amber eyes on mine. “And it sounded like a party I was bummed that I didn’t get an invite to.” His voice is a low rumble, almost a purr that sinks into my bones.
I stare back into his eyes. Eyes that are normally a delectable, warm shade of brown. People with positive ABO markers aren’t supposed to be able to shift forms. We’re too far removed from the origin of the genetic off-shoot for that. …Aren’t we?
That’s the primary reason we’re supposed to use suppressants. Regular humans will never admit it out loud, but they’re afraid of us. Afraid of what we could—maybe can—become. They might not be the top of the food chain anymore, if we can shapeshift. Didn’t I see Dante’s eyes flash nuclear chartreuse the night we were together?
Because they don’t do patches or pills, can Valentine and the rest of Inferno actually change forms? Is that even fucking possible? And if they can, what are they?
Then his words finally sink in, overriding the fight or flight urge. “So you actively listened in, and you wish we’d knocked on your door and been like ‘Hey, Val! Room for one more! You in?’”
He grins, a flash of elongated canines almost throwing my bravado out the window. “Your absolute lack of tact is refreshing in a way you can’t imagine, Natalie. But, yeah. I did. And would have gladly jumped on that opportunity.”
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath. I rub my hands over my face, taking a second to collect myself. I’m glad I’m wearing the ultra-strength patches, or I’d be projecting “come get it” pheromones as hard as Valentine is.
I don’t know what to do with this information. I know what I want to do with it, but… I’m doing my damnedest to stay as casually professional as I can manage. And ya girl is floundering. Hard.
I need to cut this off, before things go too far. Hell, they’ve already gone too far. I’m so desperate just to hang out with someone that I agreed to this excursion, not expecting it to get so… intimate. It’s only words, but still. I can read the writing on the wall. It’s practically a flashing neon sign, at this point.
I pull out my phone and Val tilts his head curiously, a manicured brow raising as I start tapping away. “What are you doing?”
“As much fun as you are to be around, Val, it’s getting late. And I should get home and dust the cobwebs out of my apartment, since we’ll be here for a few weeks. …provided nobody’s broken into the place while I’ve been gone, that is.”
My comment is totally joking, off-handed. Maybe thirty percent truthful. But the way his expression shifts has me tempted to ask him if he plans to adopt me. He’s taking it extremely seriously.
“Do you have a gun?”
I snort. “No. What kind of question is that?”
“So… you’re going to get a ride home from a stranger through a rideshare app, to pull up to an apartment that’s been potentially empty for months, hoping there’s nobody there that might hurt you, without a weapon?” My fingers pause on the screen.
“Did they spike that root beer with something?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “Good lord, Nat. No.”
“I’m a grown adult, Valentine. I can handle myself.” He’s gone from sexy to overly protective so quickly that it’s giving me whiplash.
“And while I don’t doubt that, even someone trained and unarmed against an untrained but armed assailant has reduced chances of survival.” I cross my arms and stare at him, waiting for his tirade to finish.
Seeing my resolve hardening, he sighs. “Listen, Natalie… I’m not saying you’re helpless, or trying to step on your ego. But you’re important to me—to all of us.” I press my lips together, biting back a retort. “I’m not after anything for dinner. I’m not one of those guys. But, please… let me drive you home and walk you in. If there’s nobody there, that’s great. But just in case there is… I know the two of us wouldn’t have an issue taking somebody down.”
I shake my head, having an internal disagreement about how this is the worst idea ever, but how he’s also right. The pool game is forgotten, and the questions seem to thankfully also be forgotten. I managed to dodge that bullet. I hope.
“Fine,” I reply with a huff. “Let’s get out of here, then. I’m getting too old for this, and I’m beat from fixing you earlier.”
“There she is,” he says with a little smirk. He scribbles on the bill that the waitress had brought over when she delivered the meal, and he’d sneakily hidden, so I can’t see how much the food costs.
He tilts his head toward the door and gets to his feet, and I follow him without any further protests. Valentine lifts his hand in a small, masculine wave to Gio as we walk by. The older man gives him a quick nod, and casts a warm smile in my direction. Something about him is comforting, homey. Like I imagine a grandfather would be, if I’d ever gotten to meet mine. I can see why Val feels so relaxed here.
The trip to my apartment passes quicker than I expect it to, while Val and I exchange pointless small talk to fill the silence. It doesn’t feel awkward, but considering the depth of our earlier conversations, it’s shallow. Not what I think either of us want. But something about being in the car together has put a bit of distance between us. I’m glad for the change in the atmosphere, and disappointed as hell at the same time.
I grab my duffle bag from the back seat, fishing the keys from a side pouch with a sigh. The weariness from traveling and still working through the last few days we’ve been home catches up with me, all at once. I’ve got a belly full of food, and my feet are suddenly heavy like lead.
I exhale heavily, looking up at the old tenement building my apartment is in. It’s a long, narrow red brick behemoth, with all the residents packed into tiny flats like we’re sardines. A relic that probably should be condemned, but the rent is affordable. Read: cheap. You get what you pay for.
Val whistles softly under his breath, closing his door and locking the car. “Damn, girl. Makes me wish I’d brought a gun with me.” He pauses and pats his biceps. “Never mind, I’ve got two.”
I roll my eyes, unable to resist a chuckle at his dorky joke. “I’m on the fourth floor, so here’s hoping your thighs can keep up with that many flights of stairs.”
He chuffs, an eyebrow raising at me in what can only be disbelief. “My thighs can keep up with more than that, Doc. Lead the way.”
Glad that it’s dark enough to hide the blush that burns my cheeks at the way his voice dropped, I do the dumbest thing a woman with my credentials could possibly do: take a hot-as-fuck male client that I’ve been crushing on for half a year into my home.