Half-breed’s Bargain by Samantha Wolfe
7
VAN
I lunge forward and catch Harlow before she face-plants on the floor in front of me, then almost go down with her as my head swims with vertigo. I end up sitting on the floor with her upper body in my arms and set my gun on the floor so I can support her lolling head.
“What the fuck just happened?” Mercer asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer, lying to him as much as I am to myself.
I stare down at Harlow’s gorgeous face and fight the urge to run my fingers along her cheek, to lean down and press my lips to hers. I can’t help myself and smooth her soft hair away from her face with gentle fingertips. I study her long lashes, her nose, her chin, unable to look away from her mesmerizing beauty.
“Van?” Mercer asks, and I realize my enthrallment lasted longer than I thought and tear my eyes from the woman in my arms.
“I’m taking her upstairs,” I announce as I gather her limp body in my arms. I rise to my feet, then cross the room toward the private elevator that leads up to my penthouse above.
“Is that a good idea?” Mercer asks.
I turn to find him still standing where I left him with his gun hanging lax in his hand. “Probably not,” I say, my enigmatic words garnering me a frown from him. “Grab my gun.” I nod toward my discarded weapon, then turn to walk toward the elevator again.
Mercer snatches up my pistol and hurries after me. We enter the small elevator and ride upstairs in silence. I exit when the doors slide open and stride into the living space I don’t think of as home. I had all five-thousand square feet of the two floor penthouse decorated in a modern style with every amenity available, yet I feel like a visitor here, an intruder even. I much prefer the old rundown mansion to the northeast that I spend most of my time, despite this place being listed as my primary residence. My penthouse is here for appearances, and the occasional nights I work late and the twenty-five mile drive home makes no sense.
I head for the great room that’s open to the floor above and carry Harlow to one of the low beige leather sofas and carefully lay her down, then tuck a throw pillow under her head. It’s all I can do to step away from her and her alluring scent.
“How?” Mercer asks as he comes up next to me. “How is this lunatic your mate?” His tone drips with disdain. “She’s a liar and a fucking murderer.”
Rage ignites inside me and I whirl to snarl at Mercer for saying such things about Harlow. I know the truth. She was a victim, not a murderer, a pawn to the whims of someone more powerful than her, just like I am. I saw for myself the scars and open wounds in her aura from the black magic spell that ravaged her for what must have been years. I saw how Bravas twisted her into something she wasn’t meant to be, a malevolent killer who got off on hurting others. It’s even worse than the hold Móira has on me. What Bravas did to Harlow was forced upon her against her will and stripped her identity away. At least I agreed to Móira’s bargain before I realized the mistake I made. At least I’m still me.
I snatch Mercer by his shirt collar with both hands and shove him up against the floor to ceiling window with a loud thump. I glare at him, shaking with fury as I ignore the view of the Unity skyline laid out behind him. “If you talk like that about her again, I’ll rip your goddamn throat out,” I snarl in a low, menacing tone like I’ve never used with Mercer before.
His wide eyes meet mine for just a second before he lifts his chin and shows me his throat in submission. “Your eyes,” he says in a subdued voice. “They’re… they’re silver again.”
“What?” I ask with a start, his comment jolting me out of my protective fury.
“Just like downstairs when she walked in,” he says, still avoiding my gaze.
I release his collar and jerk back a step. “What are you talking about?” I ask in a harsh voice, not wanting to believe what I’m hearing.
“Like a werewolf aroused by their mate,” he says as he stares at the floor, his expression pinched with concern.
I shake my head as I back away another step.
“Or when they’re about to shift,” he continues.
“I’m a half-breed,” I insist in a subdued voice that belies my words. “It’s impossible for me to shift.” Not once in my entire life has there even been an inkling of a wolf inside me wanting to get out. I always assumed it was because my fae side was stronger and canceled it out.
He arches a brow as he tilts his head toward Harlow’s prone form on my couch. “Like a mating bond is impossible, mon amie?”
I ignore his question and turn to look at Harlow again, who’s still passed out cold. A jolt of lust hits me, along with a strange tugging sensation in the center of my chest. I shake my head, knowing exactly what it means, even if I’m not ready to admit it to myself. The mating bond is just the tip of the iceberg of my problems after what happened downstairs in my office. I rip my attention from Harlow and stride toward the kitchen, with Mercer following me in silence. I snatch up the wall phone and call downstairs to Marie, who answers on the first ring.
“Something came up,” I say to her, battling to keep my voice steady. “I need you to cancel or reschedule the rest of my afternoon, please.”
After a moment of what I can only assume is stunned silence, she responds. “Yes, sir,” she replies. “I’ll take care of it, Mr. Cabrera.” I don’t blame her for being thrown off since I’ve never had her cancel an entire afternoon of meetings before.
I hang up and face Mercer, who’s gaping at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“You should get back to work,” I tell him without preamble.
I don’t want him here when Harlow wakes up. She doesn’t need his biased opinion of her thrown in her face again. Werewolves as a whole are extremely suspicious of the fae, and it took even a half-breed like me months before Mercer and Ethan trusted me after I rescued them in Quebec. He needs time I don’t have to give him right now to realize she’s not the monster he was led to believe, like I know for certain now.
He frowns, then glances between Harlow and me with narrowed eyes.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, then wave a hand toward Harlow. “You know she’s not a threat to me.”
He purses his lips for a second, then shakes his head while huffing out a breath. “Fair enough,” he says as he returns his gun to his shoulder holster beneath his suit jacket. He steps forward and hands me my Colt. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
His eyes still have a wary edge to them. Mercer is protective of anyone he considers pack, which includes both me and Ethan. It’s one of the things I admire most about him, even if it’s unwarranted right now.
“I know,” I say with a slight smile as I touch his shoulder.
His face relaxes a bit before he nods and hurries off to the elevator to head back downstairs after one last worried glance. Then I’m alone with Harlow. I give in to her magnetic attraction and cross the room to her side, then sit on the edge of the sofa next to her hip. Even through our clothing, the heat and touch of her body electrifies me. My breath stutters in my chest as my groin throbs and aches with need. I stare at her face, hypnotized by the curve of her cheek and the soft swell of her plump lower lip. I lose myself in her, leaning forward without thought or intention, until my mouth hovers mere inches from hers. I want to kiss her more than I want to breathe, her scent and presence calling to me, tempting me to the edge of madness.
“Querida,” I murmur in a gruff and impassioned voice, wanting her awake for our first kiss.
I move closer, our lips now millimeters apart as she stirs beneath me, her sweet breath mingling with mine as I rest my hand along the side of her unbelievably beautiful face. I take in a deep and shuddering breath of anticipation just as Harlow’s eyes flick open, and then all hell breaks loose.