Page 4 of One Dark Kiss (Grimm Bargains #2)

FOUR

Rosalie

A lexei overpowers the car in a way I should have expected and yet failed to do so. The panther tattoo on his neck is apropos. He stretches like that deadly predator, his legs long, his gaze on the world outside of the vehicle.

We drive for miles until he frowns and kicks off the brown shoes.

I wince. I m sorry. I had to guess at the size.

You were about three inches off, he says, not looking my way or sounding concerned.

I borrowed them from one of the tenants in my Victorian house, and Wally has the biggest feet. I do need to return them to a friend.

Alexei turns suddenly, his gaze piercing. You took these from another man?

I clear my throat as a wave of tension rolls across the vehicle. I didn t borrow them from a woman.

He doesn t smile. Whose shoes are these, Peaflower? His tone is hard and demanding with an unnerving edge.

The hair rises on the back of my neck, and I watch him carefully from the corner of my eye. We re now flanked on both sides by a dark forest with sturdy pine trees blowing in the wind. I think you should just say thank you.

He looks down at the other clothing. I borrowed the shirt from Percy and the pants from Felix. Neither fit very well. Whose clothes am I wearing?

Why is he sounding so demanding? Friends of mine. I press my lips together. I don t discuss my tenants, or rather my family, especially with a recently released convict who has a good chance of returning to prison after the next trial.

I don t like asking questions twice. His voice grinds to a low rumble.

I cut him a look and then stare back at the long road in front of us. Then you should stop asking.

He glances outside again. Stop the car.

What?

He reaches for his door handle. Stop.

I jerk the wheel and pull off of the road next to a series of bushes, my heart thundering. What are you doing?

He opens his door and steps out, shutting it quietly behind him. The atmosphere inside the vehicle calms almost instantly. As I watch, he strides in the borrowed socks toward an imposing and scarred pine tree and reaches out to plant his large hand on the bark.

Something stirs in me. I release my seatbelt and step out of the car, walking around to the front, watching him. Are you all right? I gentle my voice.

The wind increases in force, and he lifts his head, shutting his eyes. The breeze tosses his thick hair over his forehead, and his nostrils flare when he breathes in deep.

I look around, seeing nature and freedom.

He remains in that position and lets the wind batter at him.

I shiver and rub my hands down my arms.

Rosalie, do you understand that a pine tree like this can release between forty-five and sixty pounds of oxygen every year? He remains still as he asks the question.

My heart stutters. No, I didn t know that. So all oxygen comes from trees?

His lips twitch, but he doesn t smile, and his eyelids remain closed. No, trees generate around twenty-eight percent of the Earth s oxygen production. Between fifty and seventy percent comes from phytoplankton.

I m not following the discussion. Phytoplankton?

Yes, marine plants.

He must ve read up quite a bit in prison. I imagine he had plenty of time the last seven years. Alexei?

He opens his eyes and watches his broad hand slide down the rough bark of the tree. You know where they don t have trees or phytoplankton?

In prison? I guess.

Real oxygen smells different.

I take a big whiff and basically smell pine and the possibility of an oncoming storm. It s going to rain, I say, wanting to give him warning.

He tilts his head back and looks up to the tops of the trees and the darkening skies. Real rain, he murmurs. I haven t felt that in way too long.

The day is darkening, and my knees are starting to knock together. Alexei, it s cold out here. How about we get in the car with the heater and watch the storm? I feel for him. I can t imagine not being able to touch a tree or feel the wind in my face for years.

Remaining by the tree, he bends down to look at a scar with dried pitch sealing it shut. Somebody ran into this little one, he murmurs.

As a tree, it s pretty large, but I don t argue. A couple of raindrops plop on the metal of my car. I sigh and look up. Then several more drops.

He glances sideways, his gaze drifting upward to meet mine, his eyes pools of unfathomable darkness. Do you believe in fate?

For some undefinable reason, butterflies wing through my abdomen. I ve never given it much thought. As he stands, looking at home against the dark forest, those butterflies flap harder. Do you?

Most definitely. He leaves the shelter provided by the trees and stands at the front of my car, allowing rain to start falling on his head and shoulders.

In the light storm, accepting the downpour, his eyelids now shut and his face turned to the clouds, there s something primal about him.

I can t quite put my finger on it, but this hint of vulnerability somehow makes him seem even more dangerous.

His eyes open suddenly, and those dark orbs focus on me. I don t like wearing another man s clothes, he rumbles.

I blink at the change in subject. I don t blame you, but it s all I could get.

He lifts a hand. I m not complaining. I just would like to know whose clothes they are.

Why? I challenge.

He shrugs as more raindrops land on his forehead and slide down the hard angles of his face. Let s chalk it up to curiosity for now.

I think that s probably a good idea. Fine. I have some elderly boarders, and I borrowed clothing from all of them. None of them are your size.

He cocks his head. Elderly boarders?

Yes. I smile automatically as I think with fondness about the seven men.

They pay rent and keep the house I inherited in good condition.

Well, they try to keep it in good condition.

Sometimes when they help, things get worse, but I choose not to share that with Alexei.

Rain is soaking my hair and clothing, and I allow it, trying to feel what he does.

How unimaginable to be kept cooped up inside a tiny cell, especially if you hadn t done anything wrong.

He studies me as intently as he did the tree. Why did you pick me up today?

I shift my weight uneasily. I didn t want you to be alone your first minutes out.

His family doesn t want him. It doesn t seem like he has friends.

The idea of him trying to hitch a ride into town all by himself kept me awake most of the night.

Oh, I argued with myself whether I should pick him up or not. But in the end, I went with my heart.

I m not used to kindness, he murmurs.

I know. I can t even imagine what the last seven years in prison have been for a man like him, one who had all the wealth and freedom in the world, some that most of us can t even imagine, and then to have it stripped away.

He moves toward me slowly—like the lazy panther across his neck. Kindness is a danger to you, Rosalie. He sounds as if he s giving me a warning, and I heed it.

I understand.

He reaches out and smooths my wet hair away from my face to tuck behind my ear. I shiver, and it s not from cold this time. His callused fingers are warm, and the deliberate movement enticing.

You are beautiful. His gaze drifts to my mouth.

I m acutely aware of those hard muscles beneath those borrowed clothes, and for the briefest of moments, I m tempted.

Yes, I m losing my mind. You re good-looking and have that dangerous vibe going on.

Plus, you ve been locked up, possibly unfairly, and you come from one of the most powerful families in the world.

Your point?

Is he being dense on purpose?

You will find plenty of women who will be happy to jump right into bed with you.

My mind flashes back to the video of him in the bar, throwing panties in the air to choose a woman to sleep with or at least kiss, depending on who waited in the wings for him.

I m just the first woman you ve seen in too long.

His wide chest moves as he exhales. His gaze wanders down to my bare legs, up along my breasts, lingering long enough on my lips this time that they tingle. Then he meets my eyes, and his intense look is piercing. You believe that, don t you?

That he can find willing partners? Even if he wasn t a Sokolov, the hard angles of his face combine into something deadly alluring.

Too dangerous to be handsome—his fierce features reveal the predator he doesn t bother to hide.

He not only promises a wild time, he naturally hints that it d be worth every terrifying second.

Sure. You won t be alone if you want company.

No. That there s not something incredibly special about you. He sounds curious.

Um. Where is he going with this?

The heat in his eyes has my knees weakening. Not one inch of you is forgettable.

Thank you, I breathe, feeling way too feminine.

If I were a different woman, one who takes risk, I d kiss him.

Jump right into that temptation. But I need to win his case to rise to partner and gain some security, as well as money.

You re compelling, Alexei. It s that simple.

I m your lawyer, and we need to keep a professional relationship—especially if you want to stay out of prison.

I m sure the second you re back on a stage with a guitar that you ll have more, ah, interest than you want.

A shield draws down over his eyes. I m done with the stage. Probably not music, but I m not sharing that any longer.

That s his decision. Have you written songs in prison?

No. He steps away. There s no music in prison.

While no emotion hints in his tone, a sadness wanders through me.

Thunder rolls deep and loud above us. We both automatically turn and get back inside the car. My hands not so steady, I pull away from the side of the road.

My phone buzzes.

Alexei looks beyond me to apparently read the navigation pane. Who s Merlin?

Damn it. A friend.

Huh. He reaches beyond me and loudly taps on the screen.

Rosalie? Merlin says, somehow sounding distracted even over the speaker. That dumb plumber called again and is insisting on another payment. I m telling you, we don t need him. We can fix the downstairs shower. Probably. I mean, maybe. I ll try later today.

Alexei leans back, watching me.

I clear my throat. Let s talk about it later, okay? You re on speaker and I m not alone.

Oh my. Sorry, dear. See you at home. Merlin clicks off.

Alexei cocks his head. Merlin is one of your boarders.

Yes. He s a sweetheart. I watch Alexei out of the corner of my eye. I m drawn to him, but I definitely don t know him. While I think he might ve been unjustly convicted, there s no doubt he s dangerous.

A chill slithers down my spine. Have I just put Merlin and my other boarders, my created family, in danger?