6. Valentina

6

VALENTINA

F uck. I don’t even want to do meetings now at all. I came here for research, but having my mates right here has me supremely distracted. Still, I can’t afford not to kick ass on this project. Evenia will give me the promotion if I’m successful in designing the new haven. But if I fail? Public humiliation is the least of what she’ll do to me.

I walk the length of Main Street, which runs in front of Pietro and Alessandro’s coffee shop, Higher Grounds. This haven is adorable. Red and white awnings top every building’s entrance. Flowers dangle from lamp posts lining the street all the way to the end where the Historical Society sits.

I’m meeting my contact there. As I walk past a shop called Fleur, bursting at the seams with flowers, I consider how it felt to see Pietro and Alessandro for the first time in so long. A nearly painful tug in my chest urges me to return to my men. Rubbing at my chest, I consider how the building desire will only serve to make tonight more delicious.

It feels impossible to wait a few hours to touch them. As I walk toward my destination, everything seems heightened. My sensitive ears pick up all the conversations around me, my nose taking in smells from every store on the street. I’d like to pull out my shadow wings and fly back to the coffee shop, tackle Alé and wait for Pietro to tell us what he wants us to do.

Shuddering, I force myself to rein it in as I pass the movie theater and find a small, singular stone building with a beautiful garden out front.

My contact, Abemet, stands out front with both hands slung in his pockets. He’s a vampire too—Evenia’s son, actually. I’ve met him a few times. It’s clear they don’t get along, but perhaps it’s because they’re similar in quite a few ways.

“Keeper, hello,” I croon as I walk up the path with a smile.

He returns the expression and grabs the door, opening it for me. “It’s just Abemet now, Valentina. I’m no longer Ever’s Keeper…it’s been a while.”

A while indeed. The last time I saw him, he had just returned from the human world to meet his mother about something. He seemed stressed then. Now he seems…neutral. Well-masked. Of course, the Keeper training does that to those with the right magic. They’re never quite the same afterward. I can expect him to be uncomfortably blunt. But then, I’ve met plenty of Keepers at headquarters, so this is nothing I can’t handle.

He follows me through into the library section of the Historical Society. It’s quiet here, a few beings seated at tables with giant dusty tomes in front of them. I smile at a centaur resting on a curved bench that supports the horse part of his body. He winks at me as I walk past.

Gods, I dated a centaur briefly at HQ, but he was far too focused on settling down. And, of course, I would never have wanted that with him.

Abemet strides ahead of me, pointing toward a door at the far back of the building. I follow him through it into an honest-to-gods classroom.

He shoots me a half smile. “Figured it would be nice to have the chalkboard to draw out anything that needs it. But, depending on how things go, we can move this meeting to Herschel’s and get you some lunch.”

Grinning, I stare at the rows of desks, setting my bag down. Rubbing my hands together, I allow excitement to fill me, my eyes flashing at the other vampire. “Excellent. Let us get started.”

Yet, hours later, we’re still in the classroom. Abemet stands at the chalkboard with a piece of chalk in his hands, sketching out a rough map of the haven as he speaks about the number of square acres per monster the shifter pack alpha recommended. It’s nearly double the standard guideline.

“You think it’s worked better, though? That the Hearth HQ guideline is too small?”

He nods. “Richard, our pack alpha, primarily grew up in Arcadia and Santa Alaya, so he was accustomed to a huge space. But the Shifter Hollow monsters on the far side of town all rate the space highly when we do surveys.”

I mull that over. “I wonder what else could be improved if we took a look at the guidelines again.”

Abemet stands quietly, giving me a moment to process my thoughts.

I glance up at him. “On an unrelated note, I’ve been considering something for the last few months. Can I float an idea past you?”

Another clipped nod gives me the go-ahead.

As I lay my idea out, his expression becomes resigned. Once I’m done with it, he sighs. “I would love for that to be the case, but Evenia has always been incredibly resistant to it. But,” he tosses a half smile in my direction, “if anybody can convince her otherwise, it would be you.”

Pride fills me. It’s well known that I’m Evenia’s favorite direct report. I don’t really know how I got to be in that position, other than playing the headquarters politics game well. But, regardless, if it means I can get things done for my fellow monsters, for my mates, it’s all worth it.

Another hour later, I leave with reams of notes from our meeting. Returning to the Annabelle Inn, I sequester myself in my rose-themed room and sketch out ideas until the sun begins to set. My bond with Pietro is quiet. Like always, he is giving me space to work.

Thoughtful, beautiful mate.

By the time the comm watch at my wrist pings, letting me know it’s time for dinner, nerves have begun to clang in my belly, and I lose focus on my sketches. More than that, the tug in my chest has become impossible to ignore.

The Inn must sense my scattered thoughts, because she tosses the closet doors open and begins flinging outfits out at me.

Laughing, I stalk to the options and grin. They’re all so sexy. See-through cardigans and tight skirts. High heels and beautiful V-neck tops.

Merciless need unfurls in our bond, filling it with anticipation and excitement. It’s time.

I pick from Annabelle’s choices, dressing in a flowy top that cuts to my navel, cleavage teasing from beneath the fabric. A translucent sweater goes over top of that, and then a knee-length fitted skirt and heels to top it off. Glancing in the mirror, I pile my hair into a messy bun on top of my head. When that’s done, I pat the wall.

“Thank you, darling Annabelle. Your taste in date night attire is most excellent.”

The wallpaper ripples happily, forcing my smile wider. The Annabelle Inn is system-renowned for her beauty and personality. I haven’t had a chance to see it up close, but it’s clear there is so much love in this building.

Hearth HQ isn’t like that. A few of the buildings have personality, but the headquarters building itself is stark and reserved, almost grumpy. It’s true that every building is different, but to me, headquarters feels like its mistress—cold, unwelcoming and unfriendly.

Once I’m ready, I depart the Annabelle, who waves her white shutters in goodbye. The Community Garden is located across the street, and I consider going there to take a peek. The pixies’ A-frame neighborhood is built there, a unique design that, as far as I know, is only done in this particular haven. Plus, the pixie dust factory is located in the garden’s only tree. I’d like to know more about that.

But then Pietro tugs sensually at our bond, and I decide I’ll tackle the garden tomorrow. I need my males right now.

Humming happily, I walk the few blocks up Sycamore, cross Main and enter Higher Grounds. Even at dinner time, the shop is full of patrons.

Pride fills me—Alé and Pietro have done so well. This is what they always wanted, to bring coffee to the world. To have a gathering place for the monster community. I can almost imagine them working the shop together. Alé would be all charming smiles and flirtations. Pietro would be the quiet, intense presence by his side.

With a smile, I head for the stairs, jogging upward until I reach the third floor. A single arched wooden door reminds me of home—whitewashed wood is cracked and faded around the edges. The hallway is painted a terra cotta shade, much like the roof tiles from the villa I grew up in. Even up here, everything smells of Azuro coffee beans.

It feels like home.

The door swings open, revealing Alé wearing a happy smile. He pats the door. “Imported from the family villa. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I stroke the door, admiring the ancient-looking wood. The building creaks and groans, the surface vibrating under my touch.

“She’s ticklish,” he jokes, grabbing my hand. “Come in, amore.”

Amore.

Such an innocuous word used between mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, friends, lovers. It can be used in nearly any context.

But we were never just friends. When he says that word to me, I feel it in every corner of my being. I tamp down the urge to tackle him and bite over his heart, infusing my venom into the organ that pumps blood throughout his body. I want it to be full of me, threaded so deeply, we can never be parted.

My bond with Pietro tenses and tightens as he registers my emotion and intention. It’s what he wants most…for us to be together all the time.

I want that too, but I don’t see a way to have it unless someone gives up their dreams. That’s been a hard series of acts to juggle over the centuries. But I can’t think about that tonight. Tonight is about reconnection.

Varied scents fill the air just inside the door—salt, basil, a few others that remind me of home. I spin in place, admiring the huge open living area. The back and right-hand walls are full of windows, letting in beautiful fading sunlight. Couches and rugs in a mishmash of colors litter the space, giving it a homey feel. The back wall features a kitchen with a large whitewashed island.

Pietro stands there, both hands on the countertop, chest heaving slightly as he stares at me. A pot bubbles behind him. Gods, he’s stunning. His desire to command me slaps our bond as he yanks on it, pulling me across the room with near physical touch.

I grab Alé’s hand, cross the space, and round the island, halting in front of Pietro. He turns slowly, dark eyes dropping appreciatively down my body. Alessandro presses his chest to my back, shoving me closer to our mate. Warm lips come to my ear. “It’s been a long time, Valentina. We have missed you terribly.”

That thing in my chest connecting me to Pietro sparks and sputters, demanding to be filled, touched, used, claimed.

He grits his jaw tightly but reaches up and strokes my hair away from my forehead. What I can’t read in his expression, I feel in the bond we share.

Adoration. Desire. Pride.

Desperate, unrelenting need.