Carmen Caine - 03 Mindbreaker by Carmen Caine

Author:Carmen Caine [Caine, Carmen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Interessante … er … Interesting

“You’re late,” Lucian accused the instant I emerged from the apartment’s elevator.

He lounged against the wall directly opposite, looking wickedly hot in a slate-blue t-shirt under a stylish black jacket with a stand collar and his hands tucked into designer ripped jeans. I knew the abs under that shirt were just as ripped.

Focus, Cassidy. Focus.

It wasn’t too hard this time to focus on other things, though. Like my annoying headache. I was grumpy. In the past hour, the pain had taken a decided turn for the worse.

I squinted at Lucian and gave him an unapologetic shrug. “Yeah, I’m late,” I acknowledged. “Me and time don’t get along.”

I really wasn’t up to explaining that I’d hung around Times Square long after sunset trying to catch another glimpse of the Emilio lookalike. I hadn’t succeeded, though an unshakable instinct informed me that he’d watched my every move. Intently. Crud.

Who was he? And why did my head hurt so dang much?

Shifting from the wall, Lucian stalked over to tower above me. “What hurts?” he asked, touching my chin lightly with his thumb. A small knot of concern worried his brow.

The instant his skin touched mine, the throbbing in my head ceased. A coincidence, to be sure, but who cared? I welcomed any respite from the pain. “Have a headache,” I answered, savoring the blissful moment.

Lucian arched a brow. “And is the headache still with you, in your pocket?” he asked acidly, but the slight twinkle in his eye dampened the poison of his scathing tone. “Or is he loose in the city again?”

Ricky? My lip twitched in response. I patted my pocket, indicating that the imp snoozed inside, but on the third pat, I paused.

Interesting.

Had my headache vanished completely? Gone? Like someone had turned it off with a light switch?

Cripes, had I been spelled?

I opened my mouth to ask if Lucian could tell, but Tabitha chose that moment to exit his apartment and join us in the hall. She’d wrapped herself in a red, voluminous cloak that billowed around her white, platform heels, and with each approaching step, the warmth in the atmosphere dropped about ten degrees.

Coercing my lips into the semblance of a smile, I greeted her with a semi-friendly, “Good evening, Tabitha. Any luck with the investigation?”

“Yes,” she said, without blinking.

I waited, but when it became obvious she wasn’t about to tell me, Lucian herded us through the elevator doors.

“Let’s go. We’re very late,” he said. “Emilio detests waiting. By now, he’ll be beyond irate.”

Emilio certainly didn’t look irate.

The Italian vampire stood in the center of his study with his eyes closed, wearing a crimson silk dressing gown and looking very much like he’d just stepped out of the nineteenth century. One hand cradled a goblet of red wine. The other conducted an imaginary orchestra as the symphonic sounds of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E Minor resonated off the walls.

He made us wait quite some time before acknowledging our presence, and only then because Lucian lost his patience and made for the door.

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