21. Connor O’Doyle

Chapter 21

Connor O’Doyle

Barking up the wrong tree .

I growl at my mobile, wishing Jekyll would reply. The fucker is, of course, absent when I’m experiencing the strangest and most potent attraction to a woman I’ve had in my three hundred years.

Me:

Where are you?

I stare down at my lit-up screen, wondering what could be keeping him. Scared shitless would be an apt and accurate description of my current state. The skin on my forearms prickles at just the thought of her, and I’m growing worried at how deeply this is going to impact me if it all goes wrong .

My footfalls clip hurriedly along the marble floors as I make my way to the study. I can feel some kind of mateship forming, and I have no idea how to stop it. The signs are all there, and the idea is becoming less fucking ridiculous by the second, but what if Whitley doesn’t accept it? Worse still, what would happen if she learns of what I am and bolts in fear?

My mate would have to know, as I wouldn’t be able to hide it.

Whitley doesn’t seem like the kind to be all accepting of the strange and paranormal. She spooks at just the animatronics in the castle.

A light comes on as I enter my study and close the door behind me, illuminating Frank as he sits at my desk, staring down at his laptop.

“Hello, Doyle.”

Dammit. The last person I want to see right now.

I bet Whitley’s scent is all over me, and by the way his eyes move with me as I enter the room, I can tell he’s suspicious.

I doubt the big idiot has learned his lesson after Vlad. If not, he knows how vicious I can be if he tries to intervene, like the bullshit he pulled with Aubrey. He may run hot and have a fiery temper, but I have a nastier bite and claw.

That still doesn’t settle my worry for if he finds out.

“What are you doing, Frank?” I ask, not waiting on him to answer as I make my way to the sideboard for a drink.

How he got into my study in the first place is a mystery I can’t be bothered investigating; Frank has his ways.

“Oh, this and that,” he mutters.

I open the mini fridge and ice clinks together as I toss a couple cubes into my glass. The audible pop of the brandy stopper punctuates the tension in the room, and I pour myself two fingers, remaining silent.

“You smell like the chef, Doyle,” he says, a sly grin pulling across his lips. “Have you been tupping your employees?”

Our gazes meet and I cock my head while pouring him a drink as well.

“So what if I am?” I ask, walking over and placing the glass in front of him. “I’m a horny lad and the town is an hour away. Leave me be.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and leather squeaks as he leans back in the chair.

“It’s all fun and games until you mate someone,” Frank intones, finally wrapping his thick fingers around the glass. “After what happened with Vlad, I’m worried you’re going to let a little human get to you.”

“Fuck you,” I say, rolling my eyes to hide how they are widening.

He chuckles, and the sound is odd and hollow, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “You’re covered in her scent, and she yours. Fortunately for you, all you have to do is keep her from seeing you when you’re on one of your little nightly runs. I don’t care who you fuck, so long as you don’t reveal what we are and foolishly mate with them. I think she’d run off scared, and then you know I’d have to intervene.”

Unsurprised by how Frank has been monitoring my movements, I pale at the thought of any female seeing my other form. If Whitley saw me...

It’s something I was already fearing, but the fact Frank thinks it’d spell trouble is even more concerning. He has a good eye for people, true, but he also wants me to keep it a secret. How any immortal could keep that side of themselves a secret from their mate would be, essentially, impossible.

“Can you imagine?” he continues. “Now that would be a disaster.”

“You don’t find anything about her unusual?” I ask, before I can stop the question. Her scent grates at me in so many different ways, and I’ve never heard of a mortal being able to do that.

Frank is more magic than man, and can literally see sorcery as it’s happening—a rare ability. If he noticed anything different about Whitley, it could explain why I’m reacting this way.

“She’s a human.” His voice hints that he finds her species tedious and revolting.

I breathe out slowly and sink down into the chair across from him.

“I was told I would never have a mate, so you don’t have to worry,” I say, unsure of how true that is.

I know what I’m feeling with Whitley, but what if it’s not the real deal? Frank had his potential mate taken from him, and I don’t want to end up like this depressing sack of stitched skin.

He snorts, and the action is so out of character from what I know of Frank Stein. “Odette told you that, I assume?”

I nod in response.

The witch queen warned me after I first discovered wolf packs and mating, and what it all meant. I, of course, foolishly assumed I was one of them because of how I was turned. What a fucking joke.

What if she’s wrong, or I assumed wrong?

“Odette isn’t infallible,” he murmurs around the rim of his glass, before he takes a drink. “I also wouldn’t trust her. I continuously try to tell you all, but none of you want to listen to reason.”

Yes, well, that’s because he thinks he’s an ultimate level-headed man of reason, when really, he’s a chaotic nuclear bomb waiting to go off. Trusting him would be like holding a grenade without a pin and hoping it didn’t go off.

I cock my head at that. “Worried for me, Frank? I would be touched if I thought you were capable of giving a shite about someone other than yourself, you fucking psychopath,” I say to get away from the conversation of mateship. “Why are you even still here? I’ve already told you I don’t know who hacked Talbot, and I have checked every guest. No one here even has the capabilities.”

“Testy, testy. Does our mutt need a muzzle?” he says with a laugh, eying me like he can see right through me. He stares at me over the rim of his glass. “You know... even after all these years, you’ve still never truly shared what Odette did to you.”

I frown at the change of subject, surprised he even gives a shit.

“What you’d expect, I assume,” I answer. “Weeks of hell, followed by a series of tests .”

Pain. Indescribable pain is all I remember of my turning, of being made into the monstrosity I am today. Memories of my bones cracking, then displacing entirely and growing at an alarming rate cause my skin to crawl with unease. The witch queen’s magic is known to be the most potent in the world, but even magic comes with a price, and the price is painful.

“Typical Odette then,” he replies, gesturing for the brandy bottle.

I grunt in response, hand it to him, and watch as he pours another glass of the dark-brown liquid. He also fills mine, which is out of character for him.

If it hadn’t been for the witch and Vlad, I would have died.

I wanted to, even as they saved my life. A common nobody from the outskirts of London turned monster by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. After a while, I learned how to tolerate the pain.

Frank, of course, wouldn’t know. There are no files in existence of my formation, and he was created long after I was bitten.

Magic, while potent, is rarely not without pain, not when bending the human body.

My stomach growls as my brow creases, the sound reminding me that I didn’t eat earlier. The cravings I have to be near Whitley are far greater than my want of sustenance apparently, which is damning. I’m also worried if I go into the kitchen, I’ll bend her over a counter and bang her brains out with how she’s turning me into a twisted, horny loon.

“I suppose you would know being her favored son ,” I dig, fully aware of how Frank despises Odette.

He leans against the mahogany desk, orange blazing in his eyes as the insult lands.

The only thing Frank hates worse than humans and losing money is to be reminded of his origins—of how he was made, not born.

He glances around the room and nods. “Careful, Connor. Now that you have something precious to lose, perhaps you will see things my way.”

“Are you threatening me, Frank?” Shit, has he caught onto my relationship with Whitley more than I thought?

I swallow nervously and pick up my drink.

“As surprising as it is, no.” He waves a large hand, gesturing at the room. “I want to see how this plays out. I like what you’re doing here, and I think I would like to see more.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline, and I blink for a few seconds longer than I would like to admit. I would have been less surprised if he commented that he was going to change the sky to red tomorrow for funsies.

“Pardon?” I ask, surprise hitting me when I realize he’s talking about the hotel and not Whitley. The last we spoke of it, he detested the idea.

“Your method of integrating Vlad into society, while entirely idiotic, has potential.” His usually deadened expression turns almost human for a second when excitement flashes in his gaze.

I stare at him in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

He clasps his hands together and my suspicion grows. “Imagine a safe place for the supernatural to live among humans without fear of discovery. The castle would be perfect, especially since you only host a handful of guests at a time until you have one of your little events.”

Shocked that this is suddenly what he wants when it has always been my goal too, I ask, “How long have you been toying with that idea?”

“Since your little grand opening. Bianca suggested it actually.” A grin spreads across his creepy face, more teeth than smile.

Bianca ? “You have got to be shitting me.”

That horrendous woman made it to the castle the same day George did, and I never thought to question it.

I growl low, remembering how she tried to hang all over me and Vlad. “Did you send her here? You fucking control freak, of course you did.”

He claps his hands, then uncrosses his legs and pushes away from the desk. “When it comes to Vlad, did you really think I would take any chances?” he scoffs. “The moment Jekyll mentioned his need for sunscreen, I had her put in place, but I never could have accounted for Aubrey .”

“You are twisted.”

“A six-hundred-year-old vampire who hasn’t eaten in over a hundred years, and you decide to open the castle to humans?” Yellow crawls up his body and his hands begin to glow lightly, the skin at his neck turning next until the color effuses his entire face, showcasing the scarring at his neck. “I did what anyone with half a brain would do. Although Bianca didn’t have a chance to get close to him. Funny that, isn’t it?”

My stomach churns. “You would send a human woman here to seduce him? What if he accidentally harmed her or tried to feed from her after so many years of starving himself? Do you know what I went through to make sure Aubrey was safe? I still have nightmares from their mating—the pheromones were nauseating, not to mention the fucking noises.” I shudder for effect.

His expression is thunderous, as if he thinks I’m the crazy person in this equation. “ Bianca is a ghoul, you idiot.”

My expression falls.

“How did you mask the smell?” I ask him, truly intrigued.

A ghoul and I didn’t catch it at all. Bianca smelled human, and I checked myself.

Everyone has a scent, even the supernatural, and usually no perfume, cologne, or concoction could fool my nose half so well. I met her at the door and scented nothing out of the norm.

Frank’s expression shutters. “We all have our little secrets, don’t we? I assume you have more than one trick up your sleeve to blend in with the humans, otherwise I would have known about the fact that you don’t need the full moon to change.”

I don’t bother with a reply. He’s seen well enough the last few days that I’m completely unlike the wolves.

My poor, genuine Italian leather executive chair creaks under his heavy, muscled form as Frank shunts himself forward to stand, and I worry the entire time his massive hands will crush my comfortable armrests. “I don’t make it a point of interfering unless I need to, no matter what Vlad says.” Orange fades to slate gray as he heads for the door to exit.

“What else is new?” I retort, my tone flippant.

Frank and I have been business associates since before his little business venture turned into a billion-dollar enterprise, but this is too far for my liking.

He straightens his dark-gray suit, and glances at his astronomically expensive watch. “Don’t get your fur in a twist, mongrel. I am, in a way at least, trying to help you. Bianca was only put there in case he went feral.”

Keeping Vlad and Aubrey out of the limelight is damn near impossible as it is. A fight between him and Frank is the last thing I need.

At one time, the four of us would stay in the castle, but that was before London was set ablaze from Frank falling for a human—which is why he has been against us fraternizing with them from the start. It hasn’t been an issue until Vlad, and now Whitley.

I don’t offer a response and stare unseeing at the empty fireplace grate for long moments after the door to my study shuts behind him.

My only hope is that I can keep Frank from finding out about Whitley being my potential mate before I figure the truth of it. I also somehow need to hide my true self from her at the same time. If I can make her want me as I want her...

The thought that I will have to lie to my mate, a human, for the rest of my life is almost unbearable. The idea that she could reject me—or even run from me in fear—makes my stomach heave, and if she were ever afraid of me, I couldn’t live with myself.

“Fuck,” I say to the empty room, my body shaking to be near her again.

This incessant need for Whitley may very well kill me if this is only the beginning. I crave her nearness and won’t be able to fight my reaction to her much longer. I have never in my life wanted another woman as I do her, a word from her mouth, a sigh from her lips, or anything she’ll give me.

Frank’s words echo in my head about how this is only the beginning.

I’m positive he’s right, he just doesn’t know in what way.

Gods help me, this woman may well break me.