[Kingdom 01.0 - 03.0] Kingdom Series Collection Page 21

  The tip of Gerard’s tongue danced in his mouth, words like-- I’m sorry, it’s not you, settled like a heavy weight. Turning on his heels, he strode down the hall, breathing hard from words left unsaid.

  Chapter 23

  Betty shouldn’t have pushed him. She’d seen his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring... classic flight or fight response to something unpleasant. And why she continued to goad him into telling all was beyond her.

  She put the car in park and grabbed the ShopMart bags from off the passenger seat, slamming the car door behind her. The night was still, the maples surrounding her town house towered like hulking shadows. Past two in the morning, she was probably the only idiot still up at this time of night.

  Not afraid of the dark, but slightly creeped out by being so alone in the dead of night, she jogged to her door and ran inside. The moment she stepped into her darkened hall her heart rate slowed to normal.

  The plastic bags crinkled loudly through the quiet of the night. Her tea cup shaped wall clock tick-tocked. Its metrical rhythm only helped to increase the intensity of her already frazzled nerves.

  She leaned against the door, glancing at the hall, knowing he slept in her house. Tonight had been a revelation. She still didn’t know Gerard, but she wanted to. They were stuck together for a long time. Ignoring him was no longer an option, besides, she’d done a pretty lousy job of that anyway. Kissing him, letting him kiss her back, imagining his lean naked body pressed tight to hers... heat zipped down her spine and she clamped down on a moan.

  Trisha would die, and that thought made her smile. Never in her life had Betty imagined she’d find herself in this situation. Harboring an alien from some alternate dimension, a hot, sexy one at that. Martian ManHunter had been her first crush growing up, though she’d always assumed her alien would have green skin and oblong shaped eyes. As an adult the green skinned freaks had long since lost their appeal.

  But Gerard looked so human-- so purely masculine-- that had she not experienced the fairies and magic herself, she’d have thought him as mortal as her.

  She rubbed sweaty palms on her legs, the sound of the bags disturbed the peace of night and she cringed. Betty had driven for hours, vacillating between running to Trisha’s-- kicking whatever piece of man meat out of her house and dishing all-- or keeping Gerard’s secret to herself.

  Of all the people in the world Gerard could have met, she doubted many would be as accepting of what he was. Betty had been primed from the moment she could talk, to believe in life beyond Earth. But even her brother, raised by the same parents in the same house, rejected any and all notion of aliens.

  She sighed and grabbed the pendant that had ceased feeling like a weight. It pulsed against her skin like the warmth of a sun’s ray. The lights swirled in and on each other like a wave tumbling onto shore. Betty straightened her shoulders and headed to his room.

  She didn’t bother to knock, knowing if he said to go away she do it. Instead, she opened it. A slice of moonlight cut across his body like a silver blade, highlighting the flat, corded muscles of his stomach. Betty swallowed and licked her lips.

  “Cherie?” his deep voice brushed the night like a master painter’s stroke. Her lashes fluttered.

  Betty gripped the bags tighter, knuckles flexing tight as she held on to the bags like a life line. With quiet resolve, she pushed away from the door, she’d come this far, she wasn’t going to wimp out now.

  “You’re awake?” Duh, of course he was. Betty frowned, wishing for a do over, a smoother more sexy entrance. One she’d imagine Trisha doing.

  He sat up, the white sheet dropped even lower, and though she’d glimpsed his bit of male flesh already, it still made her dizzy and slightly breathless. The man was gorgeous. Gorgeous, and in her house. Two words not normally synonymous in her life.

  “Betty,” his smooth whiskey voice made her stomach churn, “is something amiss?”

  His hair was mussed, the whiskers on his cheek more pronounced than this morning, and jeez… could her heart beat any harder? She dropped the bags on the floor.

  “I bought you some clothes. Nothing fancy. Just some jeans, you looked like a size 32... so I got 34’s just in case and a pack of large ribbed shirts. There’s some...” she blushed, thankful it was so dark, “underwear. I didn’t know your size so I guessed. So um, yeah... goodnight, then.”

  Her hair snapped like a band behind her head as she turned sharply on her heels.

  “Betty.”

  She stopped, spine rigid, breathless. “Gerard?”

  “I’m not happy about what’s happened.”

  Betty turned back around, concern for him easing her fears immediately. “Is it me?”

  He shook his head.

  “If I could take it off.” She yanked on the necklace that she’d tried on the drive to divest herself of, only to learn it wouldn’t come off.

  “I can’t sleep,” he grumbled. “Slept better last night on that damn table. I just keep thinking.”

  Betty took a step, and then another and another, before she knew it, she stood by the edge of his bed. With the lights turned off and nothing but moonshine to see him by, he looked vulnerable-- no less sexy, but much more approachable.

  She fingered the edge of the sheet. “I can’t sleep either,” she finally admitted. “I’ve been driving for hours.”

  “I heard you leave.” She drowned in the depths of his eyes as they roamed her face. “I’m not a man used to talking. To telling so much of who I am. I’m still not sure I want to.”

  Betty gripped the sheet, inching it higher. “I’m not asking you to, Gerard. But I think this can at least be fun. Now that sex is out of the equation, maybe you can view me not as a body but as a person. Get to know me. I’m not all that bad.”

  His lips twitched. “You’ve still the tongue of a viper about you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And you’re still a Neanderthal, but I forgive you for that.”

  “Gods help me,” he moaned, and his smile was so boyish, so silly, Betty’s nerves completely fled.

  She tugged on the sheet.

  His eyes narrowed. “Cherie, are you trying to slip into my bed?”

  Her heart jerked. “No,” she said a bit too swiftly, “why, are you asking me to?”

  His brow rose, and his lips spread into a slow curl. “Do you want to?”

  Yes. “Why? Do you want me to?” Pulse pounding so hard she tasted the adrenaline, she waited. She should just say it. It was obvious. But again, this wasn’t something she’d ever do, but anytime it came to this man she found herself doing and saying things outside her comfort zone.

  He crossed his arms as if waiting on her to say something.

  She lifted her chin, recognizing his challenge and responded to it. “Fine. Yes, I want to cuddle. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. We’re in this together and I feel sort of bonded to you because of it. I trust you not to manhandle me in the middle of the night, and it’s been a long time since I’ve cuddled anyone. Call me a slut if you want but--”

  “Enfer, Cherie. Too many words.” Gerard threw the sheets back, and he was so naked and she was so not, she felt hot and twitchy all over again.

  “Oh jeez, Gerard. You’re gonna have to put on some night pants or something. I... I can’t.”

  “Have you ever lain with a man before, Betty?” his deep voice rolled over her skin like warmed oil.

  “Many times. Tons. Lots.”

  He snorted and got up. “Give me clothes then, woman.”

  Betty tripped over her feet, and dived into the bag, feeling around for the soft fabric. She grabbed the black sleeping pants and tossed them at him. “There.”

  He laughed and slipped them on. He held his arms out. “Better?”

  Not really. Because the pants tapered to his slim waist like the finest silk, hugged his hips and thighs, teasing her with what lay beneath. She bit her lip.

  Gerard hopped back into the bed, crossed his arms behind his head and reclined. �
��Well?”

  “What?”

  His brow rose. “Your turn. You can’t sleep in all that.”

  Betty glanced down at her jeans and shirt. She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Gerard. I’m not a prude.”

  “Prove it.” He crossed his heels, wearing a cocky grin.

  “This is so stupid,” she said, lifting her shirt above her head, tossing it at his face. She always wore an undershirt, so if he’d hoped to see the color of her bra he was S.O.L. “Not like you can do anything, why put yourself through the torture?”

  He sniffed her pink top, and her stomach swirled with dancing butterflies, she’d spritzed herself with orange blossom perfume before she’d left and couldn’t help wondering if he liked it. Her toes curled, digging into the carpet.

  “The trews,” he said, and she licked her lips, pulse fluttering as the butterflies climbed out her stomach and up her throat.

  Betty touched the button of her jeans and channeling her best Marilyn Monroe meets Xena warrior princess sex kitten vibe, snapped it open. Her fingers shook, but thankfully he didn’t seem to notice as she pushed the jeans off.

  “You’ve the shapely thighs of a gazelle, sorciere.”

  His voice sounded hoarse and hearing him call her a sorceress, knowing he implied she cast a spell on him, it filled her with a sense of womanly empowerment. Betty smiled and hopped over her pile. “See, not afraid of you.”

  He scrubbed his jaw.

  But the second she got in bed with him, and his arm stretched across her shoulder, the fear came back like a splash of ice water to the face. She tensed.

  Gerard didn’t speak either, but his fingers rubbing her cold upper arms soothed her, and before she knew it, she was shuddering out a deep breath, body liquid and languid.

  Briley hated covering his window with a curtain, hated blocking out the stars he said. Now she knew why, Gerard’s big body cradling hers, her head on his chest-- lulled by the steady beat of his heart-- and the beauty of a million twinkling lights, was better than any sleeping pill. From one breath to the next, Betty slipped into the peaceful oblivion of dreams.

  Gerard stared at her, entranced by the soft lift of her chest, her warm breaths against his skin, and wondered why he’d never taken the time to watch a woman sleep before. Watch the shadow of dreams race across her face, see her face twitch and hear her gentle moans. T’was a wonder he’d never want to miss out on again.

  He couldn’t understand her. Understand why she was okay with this. If it’d been him, and she’d fallen into his lap, he’d have screwed her senseless, then walked away. He’d not have cared for her plight, it wasn’t his problem. And yet here she was, snuggled up to him, with her leg wrapped around his and her tiny hand splayed against his heart, and he couldn’t understand it.

  His lips twitched. She rambled, a lot. Nonsense he often couldn’t make out, but it didn’t bother him. Not even the sharp tongue of hers did anything other than make his blood hot and his brain crazed with a consuming need to know her.

  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. But the one month limit told him one thing… the tribunal had not believed she was his mate. This was a test, one he was sure to fail.

  Though he’d bedded many women, Gerard had never been able to make one truly fall in love with him. With his body… yes. With his skill to illicit passion unlike any they’d ever known, beyond a doubt. He’d do everything in his power to make Betty fall in love with him.

  Because he knew this was Galeta’s final attempt at revenge. If within the month Betty didn’t fall in love, she’d be freed, and he’d be sent back and destroyed.

  She twitched and he brushed his fingers across her forehead, tucking her hair back.

  Gerard had fallen in love once before, deeply. Truly. He’d loved Belle like no other before or since. He’d sworn off love after her betrayal, after she’d left him for a beast with money. He’d grown callused, cruel. He’d do the same to Betty, he always did. Gerard couldn’t love anymore. It simply wasn’t in him.

  “Betty Hart, I’m sorry.” He whispered and she smiled, snuggling in deeper. “You shouldn’t know me. I’m no good. Don’t fall in love with me, Cherie. Guard your heart, because the moment I’m free, I’ll leave you. I always do.”

  Chapter 24

  “Good morning, mon petite.”

  Betty lifted a brow, never a morning person she shuffled her way toward the coffee maker and smiled when she smelled the roasted aroma of Arabica beans. “You made coffee?”

  He grinned and a tingle of appreciation zipped down her spine, making her fingers clench around the handle of the coffee pot. She’d known it-- he was even more delicious looking in the morning with the scruff and the heart melting smile.

  His smile held and the air around them tightened, prickling her flesh as he ever so slightly moved in. “I thought you might need some.”

  Betty licked her lips. He was shirtless, chiseled pecs flexing under her hot gaze. She snapped her eyes back to his face, but it wasn’t much better. Blue eyes the color of hottest flames popped in the morning light. How had she ever thought them black?

  She shook her head. Get a hold of yourself, Hart! Clearing her throat, she turned abruptly and with shaking fingers, grabbed a coffee mug out of the cabinet above her head. “That was nice.”

  She poured a generous amount of the black brew into her cup and with it still steaming, gulped a mouthful. It burned the sensitive skin on the roof of her mouth and brought tears to her eyes, but the pain helped her think about something other than his yummy delectableness. Was that even a phrase? Either way, it completely applied.

  “There’s milk on the counter,” he said and turned back to the stove.

  “I drink it black,” she murmured, then frowned. “What are you doing?”

  He shot her another one of those killer grins. “Making your breakfast.” Grabbing the carton of eggs off the counter he asked, “two or three egg omelet?”

  “One, and you don’t have to do that.”

  He shrugged and cracked two eggs, then started to mix them. “It takes no effort. You’re putting up with me for a month and I’ve nothing else to do, Cherie.”

  How in the world had he learned her kitchen so quickly? Betty hardly knew it and she’d lived here three years. There were days she’d open a drawer and rediscover a gadget she hadn’t seen in months. To say she wasn’t much of a cook was a stretch.

  He padded around the kitchen with smooth efficiency. Opening drawers, grabbing a utensil, beating the egg, moving to the refrigerator and pulling out tons of vegetables and a bag of generic shredded cheese-- all of it with an effortless grace that let her know the bedroom wasn’t the only place the man felt confident.

  Before she knew it the room filled with the scent of buttery veggies. Betty inhaled greedily, used to only smelling this when she went out to eat-- which was usually never thanks to a measly librarian’s salary.

  Not wanting to get in the way, she sat down at the breakfast bar, crossed her legs, and sipped her still piping hot brew.

  “When do you work today?” he asked with his back still to her.

  Betty drummed her fingers on her warm mug, admiring the flex and sway of his muscles as he poured the egg batter into the pan. The sizzle made her mouth water and her stomach growl.

  “Nine. I’ve got some shelving and paperwork to do before I open the doors.”

  He nodded. “Grab two plates, s’il vous plait.”

  Betty got up and took two plates to him. With a deft flick of his wrist, he sliced the omelet in half and slipped one end on her plate and the other on his. He handed her a plate.

  The omelets were the fluffiest, yellow things she’d ever seen. Normally if she made one, and those attempts were rare, the egg would be just shy of black and the cheese tasting of rubber. Picking up a fork, she sliced through the creation and popped the steaming forkful into her mouth. Moaning in ecstasy at the incredible moist and lush flavors of roasted peppers and onions and gooey
cheese, she beamed at a proud looking Gerard.

  “Oh my, wow,” she breathed, tongue throbbing from the hot bite and not caring. “This is amazing. What did you do?”

  With a nod toward the table, he guided her to her seat of the night before.

  He took a bite and nodded. “Butter, vegetables, salt. The only things truly essential for a fine meal.”

  Betty ate, each bite tasting better than the last. She smiled and he returned it.

  “I hope the coffee is not too bitter. We tend to prefer tea in Kingdom, though Jinni’s got an affinity for the coffee. I learned from him.” He pointed to her now empty cup.

  Strange that this should feel so perfect, so cozy. They hardly knew each other, and it was amazing how she’d gone from terrified and suspicious of the man, to comfortable and fully at ease. Betty rested her chin on the hand holding the now dangling fork. “You know this is feeling domestic. I’d ask you what you’re up to, Gerard.” She lifted a brow.

  He chewed the last of his omelet and then sighed. “As you said last night, we’re stuck with each other for a month. Let’s at least try to get along, no?”

  Betty nibbled on the last forkful. Even cold, the food was great. It’d been fantastic last night too. The man knew his way around the kitchen. Made her curious what else he knew his way around. Her stomach fluttered with that thought.

  “You said you learned from a woman. Who was she?”

  He licked his teeth. “Sure you want to know?”

  “Why not.” Probably some skank he’d slept with.

  “Bar maid I slept with.”

  Yup, she’d known it. Betty chuckled.

  He tipped his jaw. “Why do you laugh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know you at all, and yet there’s times where I feel like I’ve known you forever. Although I gotta say...” she gave a melodramatic sigh, pushing the plate away, “your cooking is amazing. If I had to get stuck with someone for a month, I could have done worse. I want more.”

  The moment the words left her lips, a strange silver glow shimmered in the air between them like smoke. The necklace she’d still been unable to yank off flared hot. Gerard’s face tightened, he cracked his jaw, and shot to his feet.