Python's Embrace (Bitten Point Book 3) (4 page)

BOOK: Python's Embrace (Bitten Point Book 3)
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Chapter 6

A
nother man might have taken
offense to the fact that the woman he loaned his bed to barfed on his favorite T-shirt—“I <3 Chihuahuas.” However, Constantine wasn’t a dick.

As Aria’s eyes rolled back in her head and her body convulsed, he acted. He yanked his television remote from the nightstand and wedged it between her teeth. Then he straddled her waist, pinning her body with his own, his hands clamped around her wrists, holding them over her head lest she shake herself right off the bed.

It was at that moment his mother chose to walk in.

“Constantine Xavier Boudreaux. What on earth are you doing to that poor girl?” she yelled.

Uh-oh, she’d used all his names. “Can’t you see I’m helping her? She’s having a seizure.” And a good one, too. It vibrated her whole body.

“I’ll call the doctor.”

But that is the one thing Aria doesn’t want.

Before his mother could pivot and do exactly that, he barked, “Don’t. You can’t call anyone.”

“Are you insane? The woman is obviously sick.”

Yes, but if it was the swamp fever, it would pass if he treated it with the pills he had.
But what if it’s something else?

He wasn’t a trained medical professional. He couldn’t care for her. Yet, he remembered the terror in her eyes, the plea to not let anyone know she was here.

I promised.

The tremors eased. Aria’s body went limp, and while she remained pale, her breathing whooshed in and out in an even cadence.

He climbed off her. “It stopped.”

“I see that,” was his mother’s sarcastic reply. “But those spasms could come back.”

“If they do, or she gets worse, then I’ll call the doc. In the meantime, she asked me to keep her presence quiet.”

“Why? What did she do? Is she a criminal? Who is she?”

“This is Aria.”

His mother’s brows arched. “Isn’t that the girl you’ve been looking for?”

“Yes. I found her by the swamp last night, exhausted and running from someone.” Or something.

“Do your friends know you’ve found her?”

He shook his head, and his mother frowned.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m going to let them know, but I thought I’d wait until she could tell them herself.” Not a complete cop-out. They’d already know if Aria hadn’t gone into convulsions.

“I don’t like this.” His mother’s lips pursed. “There is something rotten in this town.”

“There is. But don’t worry, Mom, we’re going to find it.” And crush it.

If only he could crush whatever ailed Aria. He called in ill to work so he could spend the day tending her. Not that there was much to tend. She laid there, still as a corpse, her skin sporting a waxy pallor. The shallow breaths she took seemed barely enough to keep her heart pumping.

As he kept a vigil by her bedside, Princess on his lap helping, he surfed the Web on his phone, searching for symptoms of swamp fever and how to treat it. Except he wasn’t sure that she suffered from it.

Sure, she presented many of the symptoms with the fever, the chills, and the vomiting. However, those convulsions weren’t typical. They also didn’t return. The fever did, though, and he spent that night sponging her on and off with a cold washcloth, battling the extreme heat radiating from her skin.

When it spiked at a hundred and seven, just past dawn the next day, he was ready to call the doctor, except, as he started to dial, Aria came to life.

She sucked in a huge breath. Her eyes opened wide. She sat bolt upright in bed.

He put down his phone and approached her slowly, noting her pupils seemed to track him, just like her nostrils flared as if testing his scent.

While subtle, he noted the fine hairs on her arm rise, and her gaze narrowed. She bore the look of an animal debating fight or flight.

“Where am I?”

“In my bed.”

“Where is that? And who are you?” she asked, a hint of impatience in her tone.

A furrow marred his brow as he replied. “We’re in my house on the outskirts of Bitten Point. As for who I am, don’t you remember me finding you in the swamp?”

“No.” Flatly stated. “I don’t remember coming to this town. Or you. Or me for that matter.” The lines in her forehead deepened, and she whispered her next words. “Who am I?”

Chapter 7

T
he panic
in her threatened to overwhelm. Everywhere she looked, she drew a blank. She didn’t recognize a single thing. Not the room with the paneled walls painted a medium gray. Not the scarred wooden dresser with the small stereo on top. She especially didn’t remember the big guy towering at the foot of the bed, watching her intently.

Is he my boyfriend?

He was certainly attractive enough with a rugged face complemented by a square jawline, piercing eyes, and a strong nose. The size of him proved impressive. How did he manage to find shirts that wide?

And who the hell wore a shirt that said, “Don’t get between a man and his Chihuahua”? She couldn’t help an incredulous note as she read it aloud.

A furry rat chose that moment to hop onto the bed and bare its teeth.

Without even pausing to think about it, she leaned forward and growled back. “Don’t start that shit with me, Princess.”

“You remember the dog’s name but not mine?”

How offended he sounded. She shrugged. “Can’t remember mine either. Guess we’re even.”

“You’re Aria.”

Her nose wrinkled. “That’s an awfully girly name.”

“Maybe on account you’re a girl.”

For some reason, that made her snort. “Okay. Whatever. What’s your name then?”

“Constantine.”

“That name seems familiar. Wasn’t he an angel of some kind?”

“I’m hardly angelic.”

So he claimed, yet she couldn’t help but have the feeling he could easily assume the role of protector.

He keeps me safe.

An odd assertion to have, yet it felt right.

“Are you my boyfriend?” That would explain why she was in his bed wearing a T-shirt and nothing else, a T-shirt that she doubted belonged to her and not just on account of the stupid dog saying on the front. The massive tent of fabric hung on her slim frame.

“No, we are not dating.”

Was it her, or did she sense a “yet” in the air? “If we’re not dating, then why am I in your bed, wearing your shirt and nothing else?” Not even panties, she suddenly noted. “You fucking pervert. Did you drug me? Is that why I can’t remember anything?” Her eyes widened as she accused loudly.

“What? No. Hell no. I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Says you.”

“Yeah, says me, and I don’t appreciate the fucking accusation, especially seeing as how I took you into my home after finding you half dead in the swamp, gave you my bed, and just spent the last twenty-four hours mopping your sweaty ass and forcing you to guzzle fluids, which, I might add, you barfed on me, trying to keep you from dying.”

“If you’re so concerned, why didn’t you call a doctor?”

He gaped at her. “Why? Because you bloody well begged me not to.”

“And you listened to me?”

“I’m wishing I hadn’t, believe me, lady.”

“I’m no lady.” The words came out of her with familiarity, as if she’d said them many a time before.

“You’re also not a gracious guest. Gonna claim you forgot your manners with your name?”

“No. I think that part of my delightful personality is all me,” she replied with a smirk.

He laughed. “You’re definitely very forthright. And I guess you deserve a pass given the situation. But let’s get one thing clear. I am only trying to help you. So work with me.”

Work with him or just plain work him? Playing with that bod would require some serious climbing skills. But now wasn’t the time or place. “Now that we’ve kind of ascertained you’re not a murdering rapist,” or so she hoped, “can you tell me a bit more about who I am and how I got here?”

So he did. He told her of some girl called Cynthia who had come looking for Aria when she went missing. How they searched the town for her to no avail. Told her of the attacks by impossible creatures. The missing people. The dead ones, too. And, finally, her arrival the previous night.

When he was done, she whistled. “Damn, angel. That’s some crazy story.”

“Angel?”

Her lips curved. “From the sounds of it, you played the part of my guardian angel. Saving me from the monsters in the swamp and then watching over me as I fought off whatever bug I caught out there.”

“Just doing the right thing. Us shifters have to stick together.”

“Shifters?” She wrinkled her nose. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

He regarded her with a flat stare. “Shifter? You know, as in you turn into an eagle. I turn into a snake. While we’re different species, we still are basically the same kind.”

“Hold on there, angel. I listened to your messed up fantasy story of monsters coming after folks because you’re cute. But if you think I’m going to believe for one second that you’re a…” Her voice trailed off as the man before her rippled. As in his skin undulated and changed, turning from tanned, smooth flesh into something darker, mottled, scaly.

“Fuck!” She screamed the word even as she leaped from the bed. Her feet hit the floor, but her legs wobbled and refused to hold her. Down she went, knees hitting hard, yet that didn’t stop her from crawling for the door, scrabbling before that
thing
came after her.

“Sssstop it.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll sssssic my dog on you,” was the monster’s sibilant reply.

As if summoned, the little dog from hell flew past Aria and braced herself in the doorway. A lip curled back on the muzzle, baring sharp teeth as she uttered a ferocious growl.

Aria pressed her forehead to the floor and muttered, “This isn’t fucking happening. I must still be sick. Hallucinating. Out of my freaking mind.”

“Or,” a deep voice rumbled from behind her, “you could admit that maybe I’m telling the truth.”

Given his voice sounded normal again, she canted her head to the side to peek at him. Constantine regarded her with a serious expression. A human expression.

“People aren’t supposed to turn into things.”

“Humans don’t, but we do.”

We? Aria might not recall much, not even her own face at the moment, but surely he didn’t speak the truth. Wouldn’t she know if she was this shifter creature he claimed?

She blinked, and suddenly, the room around her disappeared. She soared, high in a clear blue sky, cold wind rushing past her face.

Another blink and the room returned. But it didn’t bring her sanity with it.

Brawny arms wrapped around her upper torso and plucked her from the floor as if she weighed nothing but a feather.

My feathers are lush, and fluffy.

An odd thought to have, yet it felt right. True. But fucked up.

While Constantine might have manhandled her off the floor, he didn’t deposit her back in bed. Instead, he headed out of the bedroom into the hall.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You need a shower.”

A certain amount of feminine pride raised its head. “Are you saying I stink?”

“Yup.”

Perhaps the real her, the one with memories, might have taken offense. This Aria, however, laughed. “Touché. I guess I am pretty rank.” The sour smell of sweat permeated not only her skin, but also the shirt she wore.

He set her on her feet in the bathroom, but her legs still wouldn’t hold her.

Down she dropped. He moved quicker, slipping to his knees and catching her. For balance, she threw her arms around his neck.

“Nice moves, angel.”

“If anyone deserves that name, it’s the girl with actual wings.”

She snickered. “I might not remember much at the moment, but I’m pretty sure I lost my chance of earning those a long time ago.” No way she had wings. Not ever. The idea of her having some eagle inside her that might burst out at any moment? Entirely too crazy. “So if you’re not an angel out to save me, then what are you?”

“The snake in the garden, I’m beginning to think.” He rose quickly as he muttered the words, setting her upright and propped against the sink.

The comforting strength of his hands left her waist, their loss immediately noted.
I don’t want him touching me.
Total lie. She might not feel quite herself at the moment, but she couldn’t help but notice Constantine exuded
man.
He moved with a freaky grace and had the most deliciously toned body, if huge. He treated her with kid gloves, yet he dared to challenge with his words—and, yes, even tease her. Tease her senses and skin.

What is wrong with me?

Why did she find herself unable to stop thinking of him? Perhaps if she stopped staring in his direction?

She looked down at her toes—
pink toenails?
Odd, she wouldn’t have taken herself as someone who’d choose such a girly color.
Heck, I wouldn’t have thought I went for pedicures either.

But it wasn’t her choice.

“You have to get your toes done,” Thea said for like the millionth time as she lounged in the ass-pounding massage chair, feet propped in front of her so the attendant could scrub the hell out of them. “I mean, think of it. What if you meet a hunk, and you want to do the naughty tango?”

“First off, it’s fucking, not dancing, and second, I still don’t get what my toes have to do with this. It’s not like I’m going to shove them in his mouth to suck.”

Thea grabbed at her perfectly straightened hair—a job that took over two hours of extreme patience. “Toe sucking? Never. That would tickle way too much. I’m talking about having your toes look good for when he’s got you flat on your back and your legs are hiked with your feet up around his shoulders. Which reminds me, we’re also hitting the wax today, my hairy Sasquatch friend.”

A heavy groan left Aria. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Because if you don’t look good, I don’t look good.” Thea grinned as Aria shook her head. “How about because you need to get laid in a bad way.”

Yeah, she did, but it wasn’t her fault most of the men Aria met were tools, as in guys she’d rather slap than fuck. “Fine. We’ll do the legs, but stay away from my girly parts.”

“I agree. Leave that bush hairy. The whole seventies retro thing is totally in. You should see how curly mine has gotten.”

Slapping her hands over her ears, Aria screeched. “Too much info.”

“…doing?”

“Hunh.” Aria snapped out of the vivid mental video. She’d just flashed on a memory. That was a good thing. Perhaps this amnesia thing wasn’t permanent.

Snap
. Constantine clicked his fingers in front of her a second time. “I am wondering if you should go back to bed.”

With a little difficulty, she focused her gaze on him. Before she realized it, her fingers brushed the skin of his cheek, a cheek that looked utterly normal right now.

Stillness invaded him, and she could have sworn he even held his breath. She could understand that reaction because she held her breath, too. The moment between them stretched, almost visible, a thing of awareness, curiosity, intimacy. She let him into her space.

Am I usually closed off?

Usually, yes, but now…now she wanted to touch. So she did. The fingers on his cheek pressed against warm flesh. Not monster. Not snake. Soft, supple skin met her feathery exploration of his face.

Her hand moved down, the tips of her digits encountering some bristly roughness.

“You have a five o’clock shadow.”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

Her gaze rose to meet his. “You’re a snake. I would have imagined you as hairless.”

Big fingers clasped hers and drew her hand to the top of his head. The soft hair threaded like silk through her raking fingers. “Does this feel fake to you?”

“It’s so fine in texture.”

“Yeah, and to give you credit, you’re probably not far off the mark when you mention the hairless thing. My chest is pretty bare. But the good news is, so is my back.”

She made a moue. “Too much info, angel.”

“No, too much info is saying I’ve got a full bush down there.”

No peek down needed when her cheeks brightened at the obviousness of his claim. But his bold words did draw a feisty retort. “Is this your way of saying you’ve got a snake in the grass?”

Laughter barked from him, loud and genuine. “That was fucking funny. But more seriously, we snakes get a bad rep. Just because people are scared of us doesn’t make us inherently bad. I’d like to think I’m a decent guy who just happens to have been born with a cool ability.”

“So you are born? Not bitten or…”

“Or what? Did I drink blood? Can I walk in daylight? Is it true my tongue can make you scream?”

“Conceited much?”

He winked. “Not conceit if it’s true.” He turned away from her and went to the doorway. “I will leave the door open so I can hear you in case you run into trouble.”

“You’re not going to stay and watch?” She couldn’t help but tease.

For a second, she could have sworn his eyes changed just a little. A low, almost yellow glow entered them, the pupils narrowed and slitted.

How dangerous he looked in that moment. Inhuman. She shivered, yet it was not in fear.

Mine.

What a strange idea, and certainly not why she held out her hand and said, “Can you help me get into the shower?”

Okay, she might not know herself too well yet, but she would wager good money that she wasn’t the type to ask for help, from anyone. Especially not some guy. A hot guy.

Oh my God, I think I might be a slut.

Well, that would suck, yet explain why, despite her current mental dilemma, she still found herself hugely attracted to him, attracted and totally flirting with him.

Good thing he knew how to resist.

“I think you’ll be fine. I’ll leave you alone now. Holler when you’re done.” He fled from the washroom.

Asshole
, she thought with a glare in that direction.

Coward.
He had disappeared awfully quick. Unless… Clarity widened her eyes. No normal, single guy would turn down a chance to help a woman get naked and into a shower.

“Holy shit, he’s gay,” she muttered aloud.

“Am not.” Constantine suddenly framed the door.

“How the hell did you hear that? I thought you left.”

“I told you I wouldn’t go far.”

Not far. He must have stood just outside the door. She didn’t know if she should call him a perv or preen that he couldn’t bring himself to go farther.

BOOK: Python's Embrace (Bitten Point Book 3)
9.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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