Page 16 of Fangs for the Memories (Budapest Bites #1)

F erenc lies in the water, holding my gaze with a slight smile on his face.

I’d like to punch him, but I think it would hurt me more than him.

“You haven’t told me everything, and that’s the same,” I respond. “Like you are a werewolf and about the vampires.”

“You didn’t ask…about either,” he responds, putting his hands on the edge of the huge roll top bath and heaving himself out.

Water pours from his soaked clothing, causing it to cling to every single muscle. And I mean every single muscle.

I shouldn’t be looking at the outline of his cock in his pants. But how could I not? What is showing, as clearly as if he was wearing nothing, is absolutely huge. And erect.

With a Herculean effort, I turn my head away and scurry over to my clothing. I’m going to have to shed my wet underwear to put it all back on, and I don’t want to do that while Ferenc is here.

I risk a glance over at him. He has his back to me, and he’s pulling his wet shirt over his head, revealing the most delicious muscular back I’ve ever seen. With the shirt gone, the pants are next, and to avoid literally drooling on the floor, I concentrate on picking up my clothes.

When I risk a look again, Ferenc is wearing a silk robe. Before I can do anything else, he strides over to me, cupping my chin in his hand.

“I need you to wait here, kedves,” he rasps.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“I need to deal with some vampires,” he half growls.

“All my stuff is at the Géllert,” I rush out. “It’s not much, but it’s all I have.”

For a second, Ferenc’s eyes blaze.

“I will have it sent here. You will stay with me.”

It’s an order, not a choice. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it, so I say nothing.

For a few long seconds, he studies my face.

“You are safe with me, Grace.”

“So you say.”

He releases a short snort of breath. I’m not sure if it’s because he likes my answer or dislikes it. I’m pleased at the ambiguity. I don’t have to dance to anyone’s tune anymore and certainly not his.

“I don’t want anyone poking in my things. I want to go to the Géllert and get them myself.”

Ferenc gazes at me. I don’t flinch from his dark eyes.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“So, I’m a prisoner here.”

“No,” he growls.

“But I can’t go and get my own luggage.”

This time the snort is clearly one of annoyance. I say nothing more, the silence stretching out between us while I look for the emotion on his face, any emotion.

But Ferenc is practiced in not showing any.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll get Viktor to take you.”

“Won’t you need him?”

“I don’t need anyone.” Ferenc releases my chin and stalks across the bathroom and out the door without a backwards glance.

I should be pleased I’ve got under his skin, but with everything I know, with the world I’ve found myself in, I am not.

My life was complicated enough before I ended up in the opulent home of a mafia boss who also happens to be a werewolf and a target for vampires. It’s a complication I could do without.

With Ferenc gone, I strip off my underwear and wrap my hair in a towel before I risk a peep out of the bathroom.

The vast bedroom is empty of large males. I pull on my clothing as quickly as I can before I go to the door and try the handle.

I’m fully expecting to be locked in.

But the handle turns, and I find myself face to face with the huge stone form of Viktor the gargoyle.

“I’m to take you to the Géllert,” he says, his voice like a sack of gravel.

I unwind the towel from my hair and put it on a nearby console table.

“Yes.”

He turns, his great stone wings almost filling the large hall, and I trot after him, down a grand staircase I recall from earlier.

Viktor pauses before going through the doors into the external courtyard.

“Wait here,” he rasps, lumbering through a door to his left which closes with a quiet click.

I stare up at the colored marble of the walls and the molded ceiling above me, hung with a huge electric chandelier.

Ferenc certainly lives in some opulence. Evidence of his criminal enterprises, no doubt.

“Hello there.” I turn at the sound of a male voice.

Lounging against one of the great marble pillars of the entrance atrium is a demon. A genuine demon, with the horns, the scarlet skin, and the wickedly pointed tail. He wears a designer suit, not bespoke like Ferenc’s, but still expensive.

“Hi,” I respond.

“I’m Kórnel,” he says.

“Grace.”

“Ferenc brought you here?”

“You’re very observant,” I say sarcastically.

He huffs out a laugh. “And you’re just what the alpha needs.”

The door to my left clicks again and Viktor fills the frame.

“Kórnel,” he growls, followed by something rapid in Hungarian.

The demon makes a face, but he doesn’t argue.

“I’ll see you later, Grace.” He smiles a demonic smile at me.

“No, you won’t. Because Grace belongs to the boss.” Viktor growls under his breath before he holds out one of his huge hands. In it is grasped a black coat. “Ferenc says your coat is not warm enough. This will be too big for you, but it’s snowing, so you’ll need it,” he says.

I take it from him and pull it on. It’s cashmere, warm, and soft. Of course, Viktor is correct, I’m drowning in it, but I catch a now familiar scent from the soft wool.

The coat is Ferenc’s. I’m not entirely sure what to think but before I get too bogged down in my whirl of thoughts, Viktor opens the outer door, and freezing air swirls in.

Outside, there is another massive black SUV.

“Get in,” Viktor rumbles. “The sooner we get this over this, the happier my boss will be.”