Black Magic Rose (17 page)

Jankin glared at Dragomir. His fangs lengthened as he spoke. “Would you?”
 

“We both know there is only one way for her to be truly safe.” Dragomir raised his head to look down his nose at Jankin. “There’s only one way to ensure you both remain safe.”

Chapter Fifteen

Sofia folded the turtleneck collar down and took one last look at the giant hickey she hoped she’d only imagined. But nope. There it was. Dark blue and black with purple-y spots nearest her throat.
 

“Oh my God.” She pushed the words through gritted teeth.

She straightened the collar up over the bruise, tied a scarf around her neck, and pulled her hair down over her shoulders to lie on her chest.
 

“I look like crap.” She tugged the collar, loosened the scarf, and fussed with her hair.
 

The turtleneck wasn’t even hers. It didn’t fit well and wasn’t comfortable. She’d found it in a box in her mom’s room. “How could the woman have been that much smaller than me?” Sofia yanked at the underarms, futilely trying to stretch the fabric so it didn’t constrict the blood flow to her arms. The sleeves ended a good three inches above her wrists, and the waist kept slipping up and out of her skirt.
 

“I’ll have to keep my damn jacket on all day.” She buttoned her suit jacket. “This is a fine mess.”
 

How could she have possibly done that last night? How did she let him do this? She…he touched her. He did this with his vampire magic. “That sneaky son of a bitch. I’ll bet he’d planned this the whole time.”
 

Vampires couldn’t be trusted. She’d known this. She’d felt them testing her, probing her with their vampire abilities. “Pigs.” Every one of them was not to be trusted.
 

Now she could get rid of Dragomir. She’d tell Dr. MacDuff he’d attacked her, show him the proof and be done with that vampire. She swung open the bedroom door and marched down the stairs.
 

“Get your feet off my coffee table,” she barked at Osgar.
 

“Geesh!” He jumped up. “I didn’t even hear you.” He did a double take. “What are you wearing?”

“Shut up.” She was well aware she looked ridiculous. Beyond the shirt being too small it was bright orange. She couldn’t even remember seeing her mother wear it. She couldn’t imagine why the woman had owned such a foolish thing. But she was thankful to have it and reached into her jacket to tug at the armpits again.
 

She poured black coffee into her travel mug and snapped the lid shut. As she rinsed the pot she noticed the bottle of coconut rum.
Liquid courage, my ass. More like the devil’s brew.
She opened the bottle and poured the last little bit down the drain.
 

“Rough night?” Osgar leaned against the counter.
 

“Why do you always look like you just rolled out of bed? Don’t you ever comb your hair?” She threw the bottle in the recycling bin, grabbed her lunch and coffee then slung her handbag over her shoulder.
 

“Okay, maybe today I look a little worn, but is there any need for both of you to point it out? Did it ever occur to you I might have feelings and having you and Drag mocking my look might hurt those feelings?” He pouted and shuffled his feet, only briefly glancing at Sofia.
 

“You’re kidding. Since when have you given a crap about what anyone else thinks of your looks?” Sofia opened the kitchen door. “Get out.” She hitched her thumb toward the porch.

“Fine. I don’t care. But you oughta know you’re in no position to complain about me. Your shoes don’t even match.” He walked past her, pointing to her feet.
 

They didn’t. She wore one brown and one blue. “Shit!” She shoved her bags and drink into Osgar’s hands and ran up the stairs.
 

*****

The drive to work was more treacherous than Sofia could have possibly anticipated. “I’ll just walk in to Dr. MacDuff’s…” She ran a red light. “No. I’ll call him and ask him to come to my office. No sense in getting trapped on the Lower Level.” A horn blared, but she kept going.
 

“I’ll tell him Dragomir provoked me, baited me. He convinced me to go behind the house with him.” She swerved over the yellow line. Another horn blasted and she jerked the wheel to the right. “He
lured
me back there.”
 

She wiped her face with her sleeve as she remembered the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands on her ass, her legs clamped around him. She squirmed in her seat and breezed through a stop sign. This time when a horn sounded lights shined in her mirror. Osgar was flashing his high beams and waving his hands at her.
 

She yanked the mirror sideways and stopped at the next red light.
 

 
While she waited she thought about that first kiss and how gentle he’d been. His soft lips pressed to hers, parting so smoothly, then his tongue slid into her mouth. And his taste. Ooh, he tasted like, like man, like heaven, like wine and chocolate and
man
.
 

And his…his…it was hard and big and so hard. She bit her lip. Her hips wiggled as she thought about how she’d rubbed herself against him with such force, such desire, like nothing she’d ever experienced. God, he was good.
 

Someone banged on the window. “What are you doing?” Osgar shouted.
 

Sofia’s eyes snapped open and she gunned the gas. A pedestrian dove out of her way, rolling into the gutter. She slammed on the brakes before rear-ending an Audi.
 

She gripped the wheel with two hands and kept her eyes open, focusing on the road and not on Dragomir or his body parts and how he seemed quite adept at using them. All of them.
 

Still the memory of his mouth pressed to her neck, his lips sealing over her flesh, and the way his tongue worked her skin made her moan aloud. The sound startled her. “What is wrong with me?” She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Beads of sweat had formed on her flush face. She dabbed her lip and cheeks and turned on the air conditioner.
 

The turtleneck, scarf, and her hair were too much. She was so warm she thought she’d overheat. She tugged at her collar and caught a glimpse of the love bite marring her neck.
 

“But he didn’t bite me.” Sofia fingered her skin. “Why not?” She nibbled her lip.
 

Why wouldn’t a vampire bite a woman? Why wouldn’t
he
bite
her
? Why, when he lured her back to him, wouldn’t he take advantage of the opportunity? Why not feed?
 

“Am I not good enough?” She clenched her jaw. “Why not?” Didn’t he want her?
 

She turned into the parking lot and pulled into the first empty spot. “Did he think I’d taste sour?” When her bumper smacked the light pole, she put the car in park.
 

“What the hell was that all about?” Osgar asked, jumping from his truck. He parked immediately behind the Camry, so close there was hardly enough room for Sofia to wedge a finger between her rear windshield and his bumper.

“Is that necessary? And do you have to drive such a mammoth truck?”

“Yes. Absolutely necessary. You are not driving again today. You practically demolished the town. I think they called an ambulance for the poor guy you chased off the crosswalk. What has gotten into you?” Osgar carried Sofia’s handbag and lunch box as she tried to hobble toward the door.
 

“I’m tired. That’s all.” No way was she telling Osgar what had happened with Dragomir. In fact, she’d decided not to mention it to anyone, least of all Dr. MacDuff. The thought of it, him, the incident made her wet in places she’d prefer stayed dry during work.
 

There was no way she could honestly report such an incident as harassment or assault or inappropriate behavior when her body had this reaction. Traitorous flesh. Her mind screamed “tell, tell.” But her body begged, “more, more.” She sighed and hobbled along.
 

“Nice shoes,” Mrs. Sheehan
said. “You setting a new trend?”

Sofia glanced down. Her shoes were the same color, both blue, which in and of itself looked ridiculous with the purple tights, brown skirt, and green jacket. But the kicker was the three-inch heel on the strappy sandal. It dwarfed the flat loafer.
 

“Well, at least they’re the same color.” Osgar looked up toward the ceiling and over toward the Emergency Room entrance. “Where’s Jamieson?”

“We had another group arrive. He’s in the ER helping Rick.”

Osgar stepped toward the Emergency Room.
 

“No need to go, Osgar. They’ve got it. Only three this time and two are down already.” Mrs. Sheehan waved him back.
 

He nodded but stared toward the door.
 

“That’s a nice scarf, honey. But you might want to wear it with something a little less orange.” Mrs. Sheehan leaned over the counter, her finger pointing toward Sofia’s neck, and then circling the air as though to draw a bull’s-eye where Sofia stood. “You know fuchsia is a pretty color and the lime green with the yellow really brings it out. But it’s not the best choice for an orange turtleneck or that hunter green blazer.”

Sofia’s fingers gripped her coffee cup so firmly it cracked. It was going to be a long, long day. She held out her hands for her bags.
 

“Oh, no. Let me carry them to your office. We’ll take the elevator. It’s safer.” Osgar led the way down the corridor.
 

Sofia followed, her head hanging, one foot bumping along while the other clomped beside it. How was it Dragomir didn’t want her? She had practically thrown herself at him. Actually, she did throw herself at him. It was more of a fall at him, but the fact remained she went to him. And he didn’t want her. But why?
 

She’d seen and felt him watching her these past few days. She was no love expert but those were not the looks of a man with no interest in a woman.
 

Fine. If all he wanted was a dry hump behind the house, that’s all he’s getting. See if he ever has the opportunity to…to…to do that or any other thing to me again.

“Easy there.” Osgar pulled the nearest trashcan under Sofia’s hand. “You’re dripping coffee everywhere. Housekeeping’s gonna love you today.”

Sofia looked back at the trail of coffee starting at the elevator and following her up the hall. She dropped the broken cup in the trash. Huffing, she turned to the ladies’ room to retrieve a towel.
 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it. Is there something you want to talk about? Something happen?” Osgar urged Sofia toward her office.
 

“No.” She grabbed her bags from him and kicked her office door shut. It closed with a slam. “Sorry,” she mumbled and trudged to her desk.
 

She hardly left her office all day. Too ashamed to be seen dressed like the company clown and physically incapable of walking the halls with her shoe situation, she’d managed to get everyone to agree to meet in her office or at the farthest, the conference room on the third floor.
 

Whenever her mind wandered to Dragomir she forced herself to remember Mrs. Sheehan’s disapproving gaze. Every time her mind wandered to the incident or any reminder of it, like Dragomir’s breath on her skin or the way his tongue slid from her mouth down her chin to her neck or the sound he made when he finished, she looked at her feet.
 

Setting a new fashion trend. Yeah.
 

The day was not an entire loss. She did manage to get some work done, though she was certain her appearance did not help move her agenda along. After the events of last night’s board meeting and the current investigation into the training process for new wolves, she’d decided the most important order of business was completing the Workplace Violence Policy in spite of Dr. MacDuff’s recruitment initiative. She figured she had plenty of ammunition for reorganizing priorities.
 

However, between the persistent urges to relive every vivid detail of the encounter with Dragomir and her inability not to sense the werewolves in the building, remaining on task was a near impossibility. Progress was slow.

Sofia closed her eyes and focused on the energy bubbling up the stairwell. The air charged and wisps of loose hair floated around her head. Only one person had literally changed the atmospheric pressure all day. Constantly. She was beginning to get a headache from the highs and lows.

Rick.
Sofia inwardly groaned.
 

Whenever he came to the third floor, the pressure dropped. Since he was suspended from commanding any training exercises while she was still investigating the concerns with Louis and she’d drafted a policy that prohibited physical assaults during training, Rick felt the need to be on the third floor campaigning for werewolf laws.
 

She’d suggested a policy to limit the amount of physical contact that occurred during werewolf training or at the very least limit the number of times a werewolf could be assaulted. But nothing seemed to stick. Rick consistently presented a rationale for attacking his charges. They hadn’t even begun to tackle the concept of verbal assaults.