Page 72 of Shifting Hearts
SIX
Alejandro
S he must think I’m stupid. The arrogance of this girl is infuriating.
I walk into my office to find her reading my personal documents from my drawer with her feet on my expensive oak table. I will need to get the cleaners to buff out the scuff marks her boots leave behind.
“Ready to go? I have been waiting forever.” She doesn’t remove her feet from the table until I nod.
She jumps up and picks up my jacket from the floor to thrust it into my hands. “You are going to need this if we are going to keep pretending that you are an upstanding citizen. Time to get your captive fed.”
As she waltzes out the door, I need to jog a little to catch up to her. “What makes you think you are my captive?” I open the exterior door of the building for her and blink at the sudden streak of sunlight that invades the darkness inside the warehouse.
“Well, considering that I have nothing to my name except these shorts and my cell in my back pocket, I would say I am dependent on your mercy. Wouldn’t you?”
I don’t answer. I just open the waiting SUV’s door and motion for her to get in. After giving instructions to my driver to take us home, I turn my attention back to her.
“Would you rather be back at the club where Alvarez can easily get to you?” I ask.
“Is that what you want? I mean, you have no obligation toward me. You can drop me off at the street corner, and no one would know any better. Or are you going to admit that you are intrigued by me?”
Intrigued or obsessed. It makes no difference to me. She is the only Basilisk I have come across in years.
I snicker while shaking my head, but she sees right through me.
Agreeing with her will deflect my true motivation for taking her.
“The only thing I am intrigued with is your reason for saving my uncle. You had no responsibility to do something like that. And taking into consideration that it put you on Alvarez’s radar, I would say it was a foolish decision to make on your part,” I say, keeping the tremor out of my voice as I feel a strange pull toward her.
My body is reacting instinctively to her presence in this confined space, and the completely new sensation catches me off guard. I feel the visceral response to her proximity and warmth glides over the scales on my skin under my suit.
This isn’t the first woman or Basilisk I have been with over the years, but this is the first time the reaction has been so strong. I keep my head down and try to master the effect she has on me but fail to realize the significance of my reaction until she speaks again.
“I don’t know why, but it feels like I was supposed to end up here with you. I was drawn to you the moment I saw you.”
Whipping my head around, I focus on her.
She feels this too.
This, however, isn’t the time to ask the real questions I need answers to, especially not with an audience around.
“How far away do you live? It must be hell to commute at odd hours of the night. I think I can safely assume you don’t work a standard nine-to-five.”
She is looking out the window and gasps a little when we pull up to my building.
“You live here?” Her eyes are filled with awe when she gets out to stare up at the colossal structure before her.
Twenty-five stories of the ultimate home luxury, and it all belongs to me. Some used their money to splurge on the delicacies of our trade, women, drugs, and frivolous parties.
Playing it smart, I have invested in real estate on both sides of the border and have a lucrative portfolio that will be available to me upon my release from my duties.
I put my hand on her back and steer her toward the glass doors. Miguel, the doorman, opens it for us and greets me with a polite nod. We head in the direction of the elevator and step inside before I take out my card to swipe for access to the penthouse.
“Figures. I should have known when I felt the thread count of the jacket. You must be one of those fancy killers. I bet you have a room especially for your rare gun collection. Am I right?”
She wounds me with her careless comment, but I show no reaction. We ride in silence until the door opens.
I unlock the door and hold it open for her to enter.
The living areas are presented in an open space with light streaming in from the wall of windows. I would have liked to decorate the place in bright colors that repel the darkness in my everyday life, but it is fucking hard getting blood out of any color couch except for black.
She wanders into my space and aims directly for the largest painting in my home.
It is a depiction of a Basilisk towering over a group of humans who look afraid and distraught. The colors are vibrant, and the detail is as realistic as can be. I found the picture in an old mythology book and commissioned the painting for my own pleasure.
“Well, isn’t this quite disturbing. Why would you have something like this in your home? It’s not like you need it.”
This might be the opening I was looking for.
“In what sense do you mean?” I probe, hoping she would betray something.
“The brush strokes are so fine and meticulous, it looks like a photo. Did you do this?” she asks, reaching out to touch the canvas.
I walk closer, careful not to spook her while she is enthralled with my history.
“No, I had someone do it for me.”
“Why would anyone put something like this in their home. Because I can tell, you don’t need extra props to be intimidating and scary. You have got that done. I am sure everyone is scared shitless of you.”’
I come to stand right next to her. “Everyone except you, it seems.”
She stares at me for a few seconds more before she returns her attention to the painting. “So, care to tell me what made you want to have this in your home?”
I take a deep breath. It is now or never. I will try to ease her into it. “Have you ever heard of a Basilisk?”
She turns and throws her hands in the air before exclaiming, “Oh no. Don’t tell me you are a Potterhead. I would never have guessed it.”
Casually, she strolls to the kitchen and opens the fridge to take out a bottle of water. I take a seat at the kitchen counter and watch her as she rummages through the shelves. At last, finding something to eat, a limp carrot, she turns and leans on the counter beside the fridge to watch me.
I take out my phone and order some food to be brought up from the kitchen downstairs. The building is equipped with a fully functional restaurant as well as a spa and other amenities.
Placing my phone face down on the counter, I continue, “The mythological Basilisk has been around for countless centuries and has become part of some historical events through time. Some might even say that it has become part of the heritage.”
I pause to let my words sink in.
She chews slower and lowers her hand completely. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you trying to tell me that humongous snakes are roaming the earth, eating people? You might be even crazier than I thought.”
I need to stay calm, but her nearness is causing havoc in my body. “No, I am saying that people are living amongst us who have adapted some of the Basilisk’s characteristics.”
She shakes her head and says, “If you are trying to tell me that some people are snakes, I believe you. I have met quite a few of them in my lifetime.”
“You might jest, but I am completely serious.”
She steps closer to the island counter and places her hands palms down, one still clutching the half-eaten carrot, to lean closer to my face.
“Okay, if you are so serious, explain to me what the hell you mean because speaking in riddles will get you nowhere.”
“Well, firstly, they are known to be shape shifters. Taking on the image of a huge snake, like the one you see in the painting,” I continue.
“I should have guessed. You are completely bonkers.” She walks around the counter and takes a seat on the couch in the living room. I follow her but get sidetracked when the food arrives at the door.
After signing for everything and bringing it to the coffee table, we unpack the containers and start eating. She chooses a pasta dish, and I grab one of the tamales. In between bites, I try again.
“Have you ever noticed something strange and had no way of explaining it?”
Her hand instinctively goes to her side, and I know what she is looking for. I saw the mark on her hip. And I know exactly what it is. However, she must connect the dots herself; otherwise, she will never take me seriously.
“I might have, but what does that have to do with you?”
Playing complacent, I shrug. “Nothing, except I might have the answers you have been looking for your whole life. If only you allow me to explain.”
She starts laughing, shaking her head in denial. “I can’t believe we are having this conversation. But please go ahead. Explain to me how you see me as a big-ass snake. Is it the way I sssslithered into your life?” She overpronounces the ‘s’, and it brings a smile to my face.
Oh, this is going to be priceless once she realizes the truth.
“Let’s start over. Perhaps I can approach this more effectively. Why don’t you tell me what you did to those men back there? There is no judgment here,” I say.
She hesitates with the fork halfway to her mouth. And her eyes dart around looking for an escape. I put the container in my hand down on the table and fold my hands together while my elbows lean on my thighs.
“Look, you can try to bullshit your way out of this, but we both know that what you did should have been impossible. I know telling me places you in a vulnerable position, so what can we do to even the odds and make you feel more comfortable telling me?”
A sly smile crosses her lips, and I immediately regret asking the question.
“If you put it that way, how can I refuse. But are you sure that you would be willing to bend for me?”
I find her word choice suspicious, but if I am going to reveal the truth and alleviate this uneasy feeling, I have to convince her that she can trust me.
“You and me, we aren’t like all the others. I’m sure you felt the instant connection between us. That must mean something to you?”
She keeps chewing, but I can see the avoidance in her eyes. Suddenly, she yanks the wig off her head, and I am surprised by a cute little raven pixie cut.
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”
She shrugs before she answers, “Since you want me to bear my soul, it is only fitting that I start by getting rid of that itchy wig. You know how men are, always looking for something to pull or use to push a woman to her knees.”
I snort. She certainly does have a warped view of men, but can I blame her?
“Well, I like the new look, and I would never push you to kneel. You will want to do it on your own.”
The smile lights up her face, and I bask in the glow. “Clearly, you know nothing about me if you think that I will kneel before you. In fact, I prefer you to bend for me. And for a man in your situation, I can only assume that is something that would never happen.”
She is making this more difficult than it needs to be. All she has to do is fall for the grain of charm I have and mate with me. Then we can create a soul tie and be invincible when the time comes.
The only question left is, do I trick her into this before she wises up and escapes on her own? If she is tied to me, she will soon realize that we can’t be apart, not if she wants the power that comes with it.
“What can I say that would convince you to listen to my story? Clearly, you need the upper hand, and I am more than willing to give it to you if you will allow me to explain some things to you.”
She studies my face, looking for deceit, and when she finds none, she agrees tentatively, “If you give me what I want.”