Page 4 of Helsing: Demon Slayer (The Dragon’s Paladins #1)
“I’m sure you draw the line at top-shelf liquor,” she said, feigning friendliness. She lifted her half-melted strawberry-infused wine and jiggled the cup. “I don’t think the bar here has this one. You choose. Just make it fruity and cold.”
“I’ve got just the thing for you,” he said and headed to the bar at end of the deck.
While she waited for her new friend to return with their drinks, Dianne’s thoughts drifted again to the mysterious Beast. Did he have his own Beauty?
Or was he like her, traveling as a single on a Mediterranean cruise?
She hadn’t seen him with anyone, male, female or group of any size.
He appeared to be alone. Every time she’d glimpsed him in the crowded public spaces of the ship, he’d either been on his phone or watching others from the closest bar as they participated in various activities, a ubiquitous—and untouched—drink at hand.
The Beast hadn’t looked relaxed and happy. No, not at all. If anything, he’d given off the vibes of someone who didn’t want anyone to approach him. She recognized the tactics because she’d been using them herself.
What was he doing right now? Maybe she could draw him out … the idea gripped her with a force that caught her off guard.
Stop it, Dianne , she lectured herself. You’re just being willful. You want to pick your own prospects, not have your friends do it for you. A challenge is just a bonus. You’re not really interested in him.
The faux-surfer dude appeared carrying two plastic cups with a drink layered in red, white, and blue like a bomb pop, the frozen confection she’d enjoyed from the ice-cream truck during her childhood.
“What’s that?” she asked, interested despite herself.
He grinned as he handed it to her. “A Miami Vice. Well, the cruise version. It’s strawberry daiquiri on the bottom, pina colada in the middle, and blue curacao on top.”
“Sounds yummy.” Dianne sipped the grownup popsicle, getting a mouthful of sugary strawberry and rum.
“Swirl your straw to mix the flavors,” the stranger advised, “like this.” He demonstrated, muddling the colors.
Dianne bristled inside. She preferred having the flavors mix and meld as she drank rather than forcefully compelling them together.
And like that, she realized that she really couldn’t do this, couldn’t continue down the path towards a meaningless sexual encounter with someone she likely had nothing in common with and wouldn’t see after the cruise.
She held the drink in front of her like a shield, one hand on the cup and one hand on the straw, and studied the man across from her. The more she saw of him, the less attractive he seemed. It appeared she no longer needed even two dates before identifying a nonstarter.
“What’s your name?” she asked, certain that she’d get only his first name. Or a fake name.
“Taylor. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.
Dianne ignored the proffered hand. Instead, she set the nearly untouched cocktail on the table, pushed her chair back, and stood. “Thanks for the drink, Taylor, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want company right now.”
He dropped his hand, his face darkening. “Suit yourself.” He pulled her drink towards him, lowering his gaze in dismissal.
That was fine by Dianne. She pivoted and headed toward the elevators, feeling ‘Taylor’s’ hostile gaze on her back the entire distance.
Instead of returning to her cabin, Dianne spent the next two hours fruitlessly combing the ship for the intriguing stranger she’d come to refer to as The Beast. For someone who’d seemed to always be in the periphery of her vision for the past eight days, the inability to find him now that she wanted to unnerved—and annoyed—her.
“Someone’s out of sorts,” said Germaine in the cabin later as they got ready for dinner. “Taylor a clumsy lover?”
Dianne whirled and looked at her friend, who stood in her bra and panties while searching through their overflowing closet. She was speechless for a moment. Germaine had planted the ‘prospect.’
Her best friend pulled a stretch-knit sleeveless dress out and took it off the hanger.
“I swear the best lovers are the guys who look like they work with their hands for a living. You know, plumbers. Carpenters. Electricians. Not guys who use product in their hair.” She laughed as she tugged the dress over her head.
Dianne, who’d already pulled on a pair of white stretch jeans and a sleeveless, V-neck blouse with a smattering of sequins, decided that she had to get out of the cabin. She didn’t even think that she could go to dinner with her friends.
“I wouldn’t know,” she said, grabbing her purse and her key card. “I’m not going to dinner with everyone. I need to get a drink instead.”
Germaine looked at her. “That bad?” she asked, apparently unaware that she’d caused Dianne’s ill humor.
Dianne opened the cabin door before saying over her shoulder, “Tell the others I’ll see them at the theater at 8.” She didn’t wait for Germaine’s nod.
She took the elevator to the main deck, not sure where she wanted to be. Home. Alone. Thank God tomorrow was their last port. They’d be back in Ravenna on Monday, and then she’d start the long flight home.
She started walking toward the main lobby bar, wending her way through the retail space where the ship’s photographers displayed the numerous photos they cajoled passengers to let them take. That’s when she saw him.
The Beast stood inside the fine-art gallery, absorbed in studying an oil painting of the Mediterranean coast, its Cypress trees reminiscent of Provence and Tuscany.
Her breath caught. The memory of his palm pressed against the back of her head as he took charge of their kiss swept away all thought.
Before she could reconsider or even question why she wanted to talk to the silent, intimidating man, Dianne headed toward him, stopping at his side. Sweet Lord, but he really was as massive and intense as she remembered. She hadn’t just built The Beast up in her memory.
He looked at her. In his eyes, she saw recognition.
He remembered her. Thank God. That kiss had rocked her world—surely she’d made some kind of impression.
But had it hit him the same way?
Dianne bit her lip, uncertain how to proceed.
“Hiding from your friends again?” he asked, the sympathy in his voice nearly undoing her.
“Yes,” she said before blurting a little breathlessly, “will you go to dinner with me?”
He blinked several times, obviously surprised at the invitation.
“Or not,” she said, starting to turn away. To run away, if she were honest.
The Beast caught her arm. His large fingers and palm were warm and the skin a little rough. He must work with his hands then. “Aren’t you going to wait for my answer?” Amusement colored his deep, slightly raspy voice.
Dianne felt herself blushing like a teenager. She opened her mouth and nothing came out. Then she swallowed, cleared her throat, and swallowed again. The Beast waited patiently, watching her. She couldn’t tell if he judged her and found her wanting.
“Yes, of course,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
He tilted his head. He raised his other hand and brushed a thumb over her cheek. “You don’t need any makeup,” he said. “Blushing suits you.” He dropped his hand. “Do you like steak? I have a reservation at the Brazilian restaurant for seven.”
“I love Brazilian food,” she said. “It’s pretty common where I’m from.”
He smiled, the first genuine smile that Dianne had seen on the man’s face.
She couldn’t believe what it did to her insides.
“Excellent.” He raised his wrist to consult a heavy-duty analog watch with bronze fittings and a graphite-colored cloth band.
“That leaves us with an hour to kill. How about a drink in the Mainsail Lounge?”
“That sounds good,” said Dianne, aware that accepting meant that she’d miss attending the Cabaret show with her friends. “I’m Dianne, by the way.”
“Ryan,” he said, holding out his hand.
She set her own hand in his, marveling at how his fingers engulfed hers. Despite their size, they were elegant and long. Something about the way he held her hand made her feel protected. She found herself disappointed when he dropped it and gestured for her to lead the way.
They took the elevator to the Mainsail, which was on the highest deck near the prow with amazing views. It was normally quiet at this time of day with only a handful of passengers having cocktails before dinner, but it would pick up later with an event. A couples gameshow, Dianne thought.
Ryan guided her to an empty sofa near one wall of windows.
He didn’t sit next to her, however, choosing to take a seat in an upholstered chair on her left.
There was something about the way his gaze took in the rest of the lounge that made her look around, too.
But she saw no reason for his obvious vigilance.
While they waited for their cocktails, Dianne finally asked what she’d wanted to know ever since their kiss. “Are you traveling alone? You’re not hiding from friends somewhere are you? You keep looking around like you expect your girlfriend to catch you cheating.” She laughed a little nervously.
Ryan’s piercing gaze settled on her. He shook his head. “I’m not here with my girlfriend. I’m working actually.”
Working? What did that mean?
Dianne frowned and waited while the server set their drinks on the low coffee table in front of them before saying, “How can you be working on a cruise? I’ve seen you on all the same excursions and at the same shows.
You don’t seem to be having much fun, but you also don’t appear to be doing anything different from me. ”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed a fraction as he leaned closer. His heat and scent enveloped her, drugging her senses.
Until his next words threw cold water on her.
“That’s because you’re my job.” He paused, gaze sweeping over her like a battlefield assessment. “Your sister sent me to protect you.”