Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Leni's POV

I arrive home so tired I can barely walk. My head is pounding and my legs are aching from standing all night. I really can't wait for the lavender-scented bubble bath I promised myself. I’ve had a long night dealing with customers straight from Hell's VIP section, heaven knows I deserve all the peace and quiet I can get.

But the way my door opens even without a key in the lock screams “your night is about to get really interesting.” A quaint house in the woods is rarely the kind of place anyone would just stumble on, low-budget burglar or not. There are two groups of people that could end up in a location like this– major-league criminal masterminds or supernaturals… People haunted by things so vile that their desperation would prompt them to take shelter in a building without a perimeter fence sitting right in the middle of a thick forest.

Too bad.

I can't house them no matter the dimensions of their distress. My home isn't big enough for two. So I grab a fire hydrant wrench from the closet and begin to search my rooms one by one every single hair on body on high alert. Soon I'm left with my bedroom… where the intruder most probably is.

I push the door open, wrench blazing to see a slumped figure making himself really comfortable on my rug.

I move in closer– cautiously– watching with nothing short of clinical interest. The man is dressed in a black three-piece, his trench coat spread across my floor like a pool of ink. His hair is dark as sin and his lips, the sexiest I've ever seen on a man. I don't know the colour of his eyes but I already know they would be stunning like the rest of him. Damn.

I lean against the far wall and stare, wondering what on earth sculpted that face for him because it couldn't have just happened by genetics. There is a sort of deliberacy in how gorgeous he is. Like whoever put him together really took his time.

Beauty that intentional is dangerous granted, but this man is a threat for more reasons than one. I already isolated his scent and discovered that there is nothing supernatural about him but he is definitely in the mob.

Everything on him is four-to-six figures expensive– the kind of money people don't just have except they come from at least three generations of old money wealth. There is also a certain ruggedness to his features though his skin is surprisingly free of scars– this man has definitely seen a lot of gang wars and survived unscathed. Further proof of his leanings to the Mafia? Well the slice of silver that peeks when I frisk him.

He doesn't come with an ID but a lot of loose change, one insanely expensive phone and multiple gold cards. There is a huge platinum ring on his middle finger with a small carving in the center– VD, whatever that means.

I'm still in the middle of checking his pockets– very nearly groping him with the intensity of my search (in my defense I need to know what other weapons he has on him) when he begins to stir. The next thing he does is reach for my neck, pulling me to lie on top of him. My eyes first go wide with shock then assume their normal shape when his grip relaxes.

Soon he’s muttering under his breath and yawning, eyes still closed so I know he's still out cold. But at this point I am done with snooping so I make to get up but his hand grabs my waist– doesn't pull me or anything. It just stays there for seconds like it has found its permanent resting place...

Then it drags me to lie by his side again. Amused by the whole thing I stay still as he nuzzles my neck, murmuring: “You smell so delicious. Let me taste you.”

Now I would be really amused if he didn't sound so damn earnest, voice the kind of husky that can make a woman forget her morals. His voice is so low you would think it became like that from some other activity, not being drugged senseless.

What on earth was he given, I wonder, a little surprised, a little entertained. Because he is fucking manifesting right now. This guy… is on another planet. And I bet he thinks I'm his wife.

Well it's time for him to go.

I rise to my feet and the next few minutes features me dragging his bulk across my house and out the door. Once he's awake he will get up and get the fuck back where he came from… or meet me inside waiting for him with a knife. It's that simple. Hot or not, I don't do gangsters.