Asanni (35 page)

“They’re good. They said hello, too.”

My uncle turned to me. “I’m glad you had a
good time, sweetie.”

MY GRANDPARENTS came in next, and I told them
about our adventure. Ella shook her head in disbelief, Arnaldur
gave Jack a sharp look. When I explained that we had had bodyguards
around us the entire time—Jack had told me later four of them had
even followed us in two cars to Seattle and back—they stopped
fidgeting about it.

Finally, the Blakes joined us in the kitchen.
“Did you sleep well, Princess?” Tristan said in a quasi-concerned
voice. “You look tired.”

Livia tossed him a look, but he ignored
it.

“Oh, Tristan, I’m so upset,” I said. “It’s my
fault. I think I bumped the right fender on a fire hydrant. It’s
really just a tiny dent, barely noticeable. It’d be easy to fix
it.” I turned to Arnaldur. “I don’t remember that hydrant being
there, Grandpa.”

I supported my little prank with a guilty
expression on my face and remorse in my voice.

Tristan Blake never cared about material
possessions, save for three notable exceptions: his fencing swords,
his espresso machines and his cars.

His face turned ash-white as he rushed
outside without a word, followed by our giggles.

WE TOOK off for Seattle after breakfast, this
time with the Blakes for company. While we were walking toward
Tristan’s Mercedes, I asked him if I could drive. “I didn’t drive
last night, you know. Jack did,” I said.

“Effective immediately, you can only sit in
the back seat of any of my cars, Princess. Buckle up and enjoy the
ride.”

I’D BOUGHT my Downtown penthouse less than
three months before I moved to Rosenthal. It was a spacious
two-bedroom condo with a semicircular glass wall that enclosed half
of the living room area. It’d cost a fortune, and I didn’t like it.
It was an impersonal space with a great view, I would give it that,
but that was pretty much it. My Seattle home had always been my
grandparents’ neo-Tudor house outside the city.

We left Tristan and Liv in a nearby café,
with a clear view of the building entrance. They were close enough
for their senses to notice anything unusual, although I didn’t
expect any more of Seth’s tricks for the time being. He had to deal
with his last failure first, and unless he had a whole bunch of
ready-to-use plans on how to get me, he wouldn’t risk another
ill-prepared attack. That wasn’t logical, even for the delusional
Copper Ridge Einhamir

Nonetheless, Jack went in first, keeping me
behind his back, just in case.

I stepped into a place that held no
particular memories. It smelled more strongly of wall paint than of
me. I hadn’t lived there long enough to leave my mark on it. I’d
left it in haste, before I’d had a chance to even unpack all the
boxes. They still stood in the storage room and closets, marked
with Arnaldur’s neat, elegant handwriting: tea cups, Christmas
decorations, pictures, clothes, hiking equipment, towels.

I told all that to Jack. “I don’t like it.
There isn’t anything of me here,” I said. “Can we send somebody to
pick up my books and paintings, and then I’ll sell it.”

“The prices are low now. Wait a bit. You
don’t have a mortgage on it, do you?”

“No, I own it.”

“Rent it, then. Millennium Property will take
care of that. Talk to Betty or to… never mind. We’ll do something
about it. Do you mind if I light the fireplace?”

“Go ahead.”

I found an unopened jar of Nescafé and showed
it to Jack. He nodded.

I made us coffee and we spent the next hour
going through the boxes and closets. I found enough warm clothing
to save me from the planned shopping expedition.

We repacked the books, CDs and the collection
of six icons of Orthodox saints that I’d bought in Russia and
Greece long ago. They were roughly the same size, about 35x30
inches, beautiful with their elongated faces and almond shaped
eyes. Their spiritual and ascetic expressions were well balanced
with rich robes and golden halos. They were from different schools,
and painted in different times in two different monasteries, but
they somehow presented a unity: St. Stefan, St. Georgius and St.
Theodora had been painted in a Greek monastery on Mount Athos, and
St. Pelagia, St. Paraskeva and St. Nicholas in Russia.

“They are enchanting,” Jack said, studying
each icon. “Did you know the Orthodox believe it was Luke the
Evangelist who first painted the image of Christ and the Virgin
Mary?”

He continued talking about the spiritual
beliefs of Eastern Christianity, the golden age of Byzantium, and
the churches and monasteries he’d visited. Once again, I was
fascinated by his knowledge and erudition, even more by the easy,
unpresuming way he presented it. “We could hang them in the living
room, if you like, and then choose the furniture and the carpets
and everything around them. They are beautiful.”

I smiled. I could easily imagine our house as
a controlled chaos of different styles and impossible decorative
combinations, with warmth and coziness as their only common
denominator. Neither Jack nor I were snobs obsessed with the
material world, designer brands and current fashion. I liked his
idea of using the art pieces as interior decoration, and I
immediately pictured lots of rich colors and natural materials in
our cuddly and sheltered future nest.

“You don’t want them in the bedroom?” I said
with a grin.

“I don’t want six saints watching over what
we are doing. That might make them feel uncomfortable,” he said,
laughing, and carefully continued to wrap each painting in torn
pieces of bed sheets.

We finished with the boxes and sorted them
into two piles. We would take the small one with us today; the rest
would wait for Alec to take it to Red Cliffs. The living room was
pleasantly warm from the cheerful flames in the fireplace.

I excused myself and went to the washroom.
When I returned, Jack was sitting on the thick duvet cover in front
of the fireplace, surrounded by every single pillow and cushion I
had in the apartment.

I smiled. Jack’s magic dust.

“Come here.” He patted the nearest
cushion.

My heart stopped, then jumped, then
somersaulted, and generally continued acting crazy.

Jack took my hand and pulled me down beside
himself. “You said there were none of your memories here. Let’s
make some,” he whispered on my lips.

The contrast between his soft mouth and hard,
rough, demanding tongue sent me on a wild ride. My trembling,
impatient fingers attacked the buttons of his polo shirt, but I was
so clumsy I soon gave up and simply reached for his chest under the
shirt. Jack was far more successful with my garments, proceeding
steadily through the sweater and jeans, and then unbuttoning his
own shirt.

I knew I was going too fast again, but I
couldn’t help it. I knew it was going to be another sweet torture
for Jack, but I couldn’t help that either.

He lowered me on the pillows and stretched
out beside me.

“Slow down a bit, baby. I’m not going
anywhere.”

I dipped my nose into his neck. “I know I’m a
bit too quick on the trigger, Jack, I just can’t help it.”

He placed his fingers over my mouth. “I love
you insanely, you know that?”

He gently lifted my chin, savoring my face
with his amber gaze. He kissed my eyes, every inch of my face, my
neck and shoulders. His mouth moved to my breasts, still trapped in
the white lace bra. He played with my nipples through the crisp
fabric, until the incredible mixture of his lips, tongue, teeth and
fabric became unbearable. The pressure inside me built fast, and
when I thought I couldn’t bear it anymore, a slight touch of his
hand on my sex brought me to a shattering release. I shuddered
against Jack’s hand, sobbed and moaned. I dug my nails into his
bare back, pressing myself so close to him that it almost hurt.

“I’m sorry I teased you,” he said some time
later, kissing my eyelids. “I’m not sure I would’ve lasted longer
than thirty seconds myself.”

I lay my head on his shoulder, running my
fingers across his chest. “You’re right. I am sexually starved, and
my desire is even stronger because I’m now more aware of my wolf
than I was before. Our wolves find each other extremely attractive,
I think.”

Jack’s fingers gently moved along my upper
arm. “The night before you transformed, your wolf told me she was
in love with me. My chest almost burst with emotion because it
sounded as if she had never been in love before. I thought about
that later, and realized—it’s true. She indeed had never loved
anyone before. She couldn’t take part in your previous
relationships. I’m your first werewolf boyfriend, but for her, I’m
her first boyfriend, period. Nobody else had courted her before.
Nobody made love to her, nobody kissed her, touched her. Nobody
loved her until I came. “

“No wonder she’s crazy about you.” I smiled.
“As much as I am.”

He kissed my lips, softly, gently. “You’re my
blessing, Astrid.”

“How do you feel it, Jack? Surely I’m not
your first werewolf lover.”

Jack’s warm fingers gently plowed through my
hair. “I’ve never loved anybody as I love you, so absolutely, so
completely, so deeply that it hurts sometimes. You are not only my
bond mate, Astrid, you are my benediction, the best thing that ever
happened to me. Sex has always been an important part of my life,
but you brought a whole new dimension to it. It’s love, I suppose.
Love is the most potent aphrodisiac. I just know I’ve never wanted
anybody more than I want you. That’s why it’s so difficult to be so
close to you yet be unable to make love to you, completely, with
everything that I can give you. On the other hand...” He lifted his
head and pulled me up to kiss my lips. “There is a definite
satisfaction in knowing that I can do that for you. I can wait, as
long as it takes, because you are so worth waiting for.”

I thought my heart would burst, and I choked
over my words. “This is the most beautiful confession of love a man
ever said to a woman, Jack.” My fingers reached up, stroking that
handsome, sharp face, softened with emotion and the power of love.
He closed his eyes, and I pulled myself to my knees, and kissed his
lids, his cheekbones, his nose... And in no time we were both
laying back on the pillows, and the outside world ceased to
exist.

MMM, TASTY…” Jack muttered, much later,
nibbling on my ear lobe. “Sweet and soft, like caramel toffees,
only better.”

I blinked several times and yawned. “Did I
actually fall asleep?” I stretched, feeling Jack’s solid body over
mine, and his hard arousal pressing against my lower abdomen
through his jeans. “I wish we could stay here forever,” I whispered
longingly.

Bracing himself on his elbow, he cupped my
chin with his other hand and lowered his head. “Promise me
something,” he said onto my mouth.

“You have me at a disadvantage, sir. I will
now promise you anything.”

“It’s simple. Once you move in with me, you
get rid of all your nightwear. No more nightgowns, pajamas and
sleeping shirts. No underwear. Red nail polish on your toes only.
Okay?”

“Hmm. And what am I getting in return? It’s
not an easy concession to make. I really like my nightwear.”

“You’ll think of something.”

I shot him a hot look under my lashes.
“Actually, I think I know.”

“Uh-oh. I see a devilish spark in those
pretty eyes of yours.”

“Those hot boxers with pictures on them.”

“What sort of pictures?”

“Well, a tiger with open jaws, for example,
or shark, wolf, python, Santa Claus. That sort.”

“Santa Claus!?”

“Just around the season. Deal?”

“Deal.” Jack laughed and kissed me, sealing
our bargain. “Now go take a shower. We still have one place to
visit.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Go now.”

I locked my arms around his neck, reluctant
to break the physical contact. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“Put a big bathtub on your wish list,
together with the cat and those printed boxers.” He grabbed my
wrists and unlocked my arms, pressing them above my head. “Stop
rubbing against me, Astrid,” he said, in a thick voice. “I’m a
hairsbreadth from opening fire.”

He pulled away from me and jumped to his
feet. “Wait! I need the washroom first!”

TRISTAN AND Liv picked us up half an hour
later, together with the six long-faced saints and several boxes of
my winter clothes.

“What are you going to do with the condo,
Astrid?” Liv asked.

“I’ll rent it.”

“Why don’t you sell it?’ Tristan said.
“You’ve never liked that place.”

“I like it now.”

Liv turned to us with an arched eyebrow and a
comment on her lips, but before she could say a word, Jack said,
“Turn left after that intersection, Tristan, and then take the
second street on the right side.”

WE STOPPED in front of a small store with a
sign above the door that read Blue Moon. Under that, in a smaller
print, stood Custom Jewelry and Fine Crafts, with the names of the
owners at the bottom: Magdalene and Herman Offenbach.

The old fashioned bell above the glass door
announced our arrival, and a moment later, a tall, pretty brunette,
who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, entered the store from the
back room.

“Jack Canagan! What a surprise!” Grinning,
she hugged Jack and completed her friendly greeting with a hearty
smack. She turned to the Blakes, “Tristan, Liv! It’s good to see
you again!”

“Wie ist es Dir ergangen, Magda?” Jack
greeted her warmly.