Bulletproof Damsel Page 3

  “That’s not an option for you now. You walked into my world, little girl. You’re in it now.”

  “You do know we’re enemies, and I’m not a freaking damsel who needs carrying around like a worthless sack of potatoes, right? I’m a badass hunter from E.V.I.E. who, by the way, will come to save me.”

  “Let them come, and if they’re strong enough, they can even take you from me.”

  He sounded confident that it wouldn’t happen, which sent a shiver of unease rushing down my spine. Rhys Van Helsing was carrying me in his arms, and my curse wasn’t hindering him at all. My heart was pounding deafeningly in my ears, which I was sure he could feel, judging by the smirk that lifted the corners of his full mouth. He sounded British, or as if he tried to hide the British accent ingrained into him.

  “You could let me go,” I offered.

  “If I let you go, Cole would have you within the hour, and I promise you, I’m much easier to deal with than my brother. Your entire world is about to change, Remi. Don’t worry. I don’t bite hard.”

  “I do,” I replied, watching his eyes sparkle with laughter. “I totally bite hard.”

  “Do you know what you are?” he asked.

  “I know what I am, and I also know who you are to me. You’re my enemy, and once upon a time, our families were united by something greater than either could understand. Then it all changed because your family betrayed mine.”

  “Do you know why we betrayed you?” he asked softly, without anger.

  “I was supposed to get the talk when I turned twenty-five on my rising. I’m not there yet.”

  “So you’re a mortal Silversmith who hasn’t been told of the past?” he clarified, frowning as he studied my reaction to his question.

  “Does it really matter? I got the whole enemies for life gist of the theme. That was pretty much idiot-proof. There’s also the curse, hence the fact that I can barely walk after using my powers, which is your fault.”

  “You could show her other things that would make her unable to walk afterward. I mean, she’s a Silversmith, and you’re a Van Helsing. It’s like a match made in lore heaven! Oh, and if you can, please elaborate on the porn part of your family histories in vivid detail for the rest of us. She doesn’t believe the stories I’ve told her! I’m totally game to wait for you to remove the cobwebs from between her knees first!”

  “Oh, my Lord,” I groaned, burying my face in his neck, before realizing what I’d done and yanking away from him. I ignored the curve of his mouth, trying to fight a smile caused by Nyx’s outburst, no doubt. “She has no filter. It’s like she opens her mouth and words vomit out. It’s not the time or place to be talking about my vagina, Nyx!”

  “Now is the only time! He’s a freaking Van Helsing. They’re like legends with their swords.”

  “Weapons. Swords are weapons!” I argued.

  “So are penises when wielded correctly. Which you would know if you ever let an actual man near that thing, woman,” she scoffed. “You two are literally cursed to fuck each other, so just let that shit happen.”

  “She’s wrong. Right? Tell her she’s wrong,” I muttered, watching dark eyes shifting to hold mine. “Tell her she’s wrong, because…” Rhys’s mouth lowered, stilling the air in my lungs as my words hung poised. His mouth brushed against my cheek as he inhaled deeply. “Are you fucking sniffing me?”

  “You don’t smell like magic, why is that?” he pulled back, studying my face. “Your hair isn’t dyed, either. It’s naturally that color.”

  “So sorry that I don’t fit the perfect Silversmith mold, jerk.”

  “No, you’re actually perfect. No one will realize what I have on my side.”

  “I’m not on your side.”

  “You’d rather be on Cole’s or another immortal that wouldn’t care if you suffered? Because I promise you this, Cole is all incubus, and very little Van Helsing, woman.”

  “And what is the difference?” I asked carefully.

  “I won’t keep you fucked stupid. At least, I wouldn’t unless you ask me to, of course. I’ll respect your boundaries and allow you free rein of my house if you serve me. He’d just chain you up and use you whenever he wanted.”

  “I pick Cole!” Nyx announced excitedly, like we’d won a prize on a game show. Rhys’s words caused me to swallow past the lump in my throat. Winnie was going to roast me over an open flame and then serve my stupid ass up for supper.

  “Make me a deal,” I offered, watching his eyes narrow before they slid to mine.

  “What deal would that be?”

  “I am missing something, help me find it, and I will work for you. There’s a time limit, though, and once it is up, you’ll release me. If you don’t, I will rain down hell on more than just your house, bringing it down, unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before.”

  “Wow, who knew the little weapons master could be an evil bitch? Plot twist!”

  “Nyx, chuck it in the fuck-it bucket now! This is serious business!”

  “Cian, clear the backroom,” Rhys said, ignoring us both. “Have some Irish whiskey brought in. After you’ve finished that, clear out the bar. Cole will be watching for a weakness now, but he’ll be cautious about attacking us since he didn’t see her go down with the curse. Let’s get our little Silversmith to the house as soon as possible. I want a full assault team of knights to escort Remi to her new home.”

  “Wow, you skipped all the bases and went straight for home base. I don’t know if I should be afraid or impressed,” I murmured, unable to look away from the stars sparkling in his pretty eyes.

  His mouth lifted on one side as he peered down at me. “Careful. That curse is an actual thing, and if you keep looking at me like that, you’ll ruin my reputation as a gentleman.”

  “Wouldn’t want that,” I muttered.

  Chapter Four

  The room they gave us was lavish in décor. A crystal chandelier was the focal point, with high-backed chairs surrounding an opulent glass-top table. Beneath the glass, old Victorian-style pictures depicted ageless, beautiful women in risqué poses. It was like we’d stepped back in time.

  I reached for the whiskey on the table and watched the glass shatter the moment I touched it. Some days the curse was seriously disheartening, like when facing off against an actual Van Helsing who continued to look at me as if I were something to devour or strangle but couldn’t decide which he wanted more.

  “Give her a plastic cup,” Rhys grunted, watching the server lurch forward to clean the spilled mess of whiskey from the table. I started to stand, only to have the chair legs break, sending me careening to the floor.

  I remained on the floor, groaning. I peered at the artwork on the ceiling that I hadn’t noticed before ending up flat on my back. Five royal houses, each one with a royal crest that bespoke of their symbol. Van Helsing had swords and a coat of armor. Mine had a potion with silver smoke rising from the vial.

  The others had a wolf head, the symbol of infinity, and then one that had the symbol of change for the breeds who continued to grow through the world’s evolution and changes. I knew them well, taught to see them on houses to avoid like the plague since before I could even remember.

  A dark shadow moved into view, and my gaze slid to the dark blue eyes peering down at me as a sinful smile tipped the corners of Rhys’s lips. He was apparently finding great amusement at my curse.

  “Bad luck, woman,” he said thickly, watching me as I struggled to get off the floor. I placed my hand on his masterpiece of a table which cracked and spider-webbed under my touch. “Stop touching things.”

  “Like you said, bad luck. Sorry,” I returned icily, glaring daggers at him, which only made his lips twitch, still amused. Reaching up to my neck, I touched the straps of my shirt and then winced as it broke, catching the top before he ended up with a full inventory of my goods.

  He’d confiscated my cloak and deposed me of all my silver. That included the necklaces and charms that helped to counteract the
curse somewhat. Now I was using said curse against him, and judging by the twinkle in his eye, he was fully aware of what I was doing. I smirked, wrinkling my nose, holding my shirt together, surprised when he lifted me off the ground without warning.

  “You really like to touch people, don’t you?”

  “Indeed.”

  I placed my hands around his neck to steady myself, causing my shirt to drop down the front, leaving my breasts revealed. I slammed against him with wide, horrified eyes as he peered between us, finding way too much cleavage on display for polite conversation.

  “That’s unfortunate,” he chuckled darkly, lifting his pretty hypnotic eyes to hold mine. He sat on the chair beside the heap of ruins where I’d been sitting, allowing me to continue pressing against him awkwardly. “Jamyn, can you please fetch our guest a new shirt? There should be some behind the bar,” he mused.

  “Do you often have women losing their shirts in your bar?” I asked pointedly, a little ire etching my tone.

  “You’d be surprised at how many women throw caution to the wind in my bar. Sometimes people need a place to let loose and not worry about being judged for doing so. I provide them a safe place to do that with the promise of sanctuary throughout that time.”

  “And if I asked for sanctuary?” I whispered huskily, unable to ignore the heat rushing through me as his fingers slowly stroked my naked shoulder.

  “Silversmiths are not given sanctuary inside Van Helsing safe houses, Remi. We’re enemies and have been for a very long time. The only way you’d be eligible for sanctuary, was if you worked for me.”

  “How about other creatures?” I asked, leaning closer to inhale his scent that tingled in my nose, dancing like a drug through my senses.

  “They’d be freely given sanctuary.”

  “Nyx, ask for sanctuary,” I murmured before my mouth opened, and my tongue traced over the pulse in his neck.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just here watching the show. If it ends with sanctuary, I’d rather chance death,” she chirped from somewhere in the room. But everything within me focused on the male touching me.

  “What are you doing?” Rhys asked, and I yanked away from him with wide, horror-filled eyes. I leaned up without warning, noting that he dropped his stare to my breasts. “I’m going to need those barbells, woman.”

  I gazed down at my nipples, slowly lifting my eyes back to his before bringing my hands up to cover my naked breasts. I had been licking him! I didn’t lick people I just met. Nyx licked people! Frowning, I shook my head.

  “It’s surgical steel,” I admitted breathlessly. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Nothing,” he grinned, bringing his hand up to the curve of my breast. His touch caused the air to still in my lungs. Leaning over, he moved toward my ear, turning at the last moment to kiss my racing pulse at the hollow column of my throat, while his finger touched the metal piercing, brushing against my nipple before dropping to my waist. “They’re silver, little liar.”

  “You could tell just by touching them?” I squeaked, shifting uncomfortably in his lap. The door to the room opened, and a man handed Rhys a shirt, and I flicked my eyes to Nyx, who watched in silent amusement.

  “I’m a Van Helsing. Of course, I know what type of metal it is by touch,” he answered aloofly, holding the shirt up as he slipped it over my head. “Put your arms through it.”

  I narrowed my eyes on him, and he smirked, closing his eyes briefly. I uncovered my naked breasts, pushing my arms through the sleeves, quickly pulling the shirt on, discovering heated blue eyes studying me. My hands adjusted, holding on to his shoulders as he searched my face absently.

  “How do you have red hair? And your eyes, they’re vividly blue instead of the normal ice color that your bloodline is known for.”

  I twisted my lips into a thoughtful pout as I considered how much to tell him. “We don’t know why I came out different, only that I am.”

  “What else is different?” he asked.

  “What is this? Fifty questions with the hostage? You think I’m just going to answer you because I’m sitting on your lap looking cute?”

  “You do look surprisingly cute on my lap.”

  “Why am I in your lap?” I turned as a server approached us, handing me a plastic cup of whiskey, my lips twisting as I fought the smile. I tipped back the cup, downing the contents in a single gulp before handing it back. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You didn’t answer mine,” he smiled mischievously.

  The whiskey warmed my cheeks, and I cocked my head to the side, turning to look at the bottle left on the table in the now very empty room. My stare swung back to Van Helsing, who slowly ran his eyes over my face.

  “Silversmiths are never born with different coloring. Your hair isn’t dyed, and you’re not wearing contacts. Your power was intensely strong, yet lacked control. The only time you smelled of magic was when you used it, and for a few moments afterward. Now you smell human and of a meadow filled with wildflowers after a spring rain. Yet when casting, your eyes were indeed silver, as was your hair and aura. I find it highly improbable that you walked right into my path. I’ve spent months searching for a Silversmith with enough magic within her to counter the Silversmith my little brother stumbled upon weeks ago. I was beginning to think it was hopeless. Yet here you are, literally in my lap. Who sent you?” he asked softly, his keen gaze studying mine.

  “No one sent me.” I swallowed as his fingers brushed lightly over my exposed midsection.

  His touch consumed my mind, creating a red haze that rushed through me violently. A lazy smile played over his mouth before his tongue snaked out, licking his bottom lip, pulling my eyes to it. He sat up, forcing me to hold tighter to him until I realized he was removing his suit jacket. I leaned back slowly, watching as he shook out of it, reaching for the buttons of his white dress shirt that was damp still.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, slowly revealing a muscular chest covered in colorful tattoos.

  “No,” I replied huskily, uncertain why I didn’t look away from the washboard abs begging for me to kiss and stroke them slowly. “No accidents are happening as long as I’m touching you. So what you said was true? You’re a cure to the curse?”

  “I am, as you’re the cure to mine. Every curse includes a way to neutralize it,” he explained, pulling one arm out of the dress shirt to reveal both nipples pierced, his name covering his forearm and his family crest on his abdomen.

  He adjusted in his chair, smiling as he watched me feasting on his ink from beneath my lashes. I pretended that I was anywhere other than his lap. Rhys moved again, and the motion forced me forward, causing my hands to rest on his chest. My fingers brushed against his piercings, and I shivered against the call of Silversmith silver that he wore brazenly. Heat banked in his pretty stare as he hissed under my touch.

  “What are you doing to me?” I asked, knowing something was happening.

  “Getting answers,” he admitted, moving his hands around my narrow waist, pulling me closer. “I’m an incubus demon, after all. You should know that, Silversmith, since your family is the one who cursed me to be this monster.”

  “I don’t know much about that yet,” I admitted, turning to look at the whiskey, which would calm the raging inferno within me. “If you plan to interrogate me, you should pour me another drink, Van Helsing.”

  Chapter Five

  He didn’t get up to pour more whiskey, choosing to wrap his arms around me as he did the task instead. It was the most awkward and most uncomfortable thing in my entire life to pretend that I wasn’t affected by his half-naked body, while literally holding on to it so that I didn’t end up on my ass on the floor again.

  “How long are you affected by the curse?” Rhys asked casually.

  “Shouldn’t you know that answer?”

  “The more powerful the Silversmith witch, the more powerful the curse.”

  “So what you’re really asking me, Van Helsing,
is how powerful am I?” I watched his lips twitch before he stopped them by biting his bottom lip, which was sexy. “Very powerful is the answer to the question you are asking.” My hand lifted the plastic cup, downing the whiskey like a frat boy trying to impress the brotherhood of idiots he wanted to join. I smiled at the look of disapproval Rhys offered in rebuke.

  “Fifty-year-old Irish whiskey that cost forty-thousand dollars a bottle should be savored, Silversmith,” he grumbled, bringing his to his nose to sniff while staring at me over the rim of the crystal glass.

  “Why the hell would anyone pay forty-thousand dollars for whiskey?” I asked crossly.

  “Because I can?” he countered, sipping the drink slowly. A smile curved his generous mouth as I watched him drinking it slowly. “Who is your mother?”

  “Superwoman,” I supplied, giving him a half-hearted smile before wiggling my brows.

  He tipped back his cup, reaching past me to place it on the damaged table. Wrapping his arm around my back, he pulled me closer to him. His eyes slowly surveyed my face before he dipped his mouth to mine, softly claiming my lips. I brought my hands flat against his chest, trying to remember why this was a bad idea.

  The moment his mouth touched mine, all coherent thought left my mind, replaced with need. A groan escaped his lips as my mouth captured it, swallowing it like the whiskey. My fingers ran through his inky dark hair as my tongue pushed past his lips, dueling against his in an ageless dance. My hips rolled, inviting him to do more, which he didn’t seem to understand.

  One moment led my utter ruin in a charge of sexual tension, and the next, he took control, exerting dominance. His fingers trailed through my hair, controlling my head as he turned it to allow better access to devour me. My hands lowered to his shoulders, unable to touch his flesh enough as I continually rocked against him, moaning unsexy noises like a bitch in heat as he claimed my mouth in a toe-curling kiss.

  He pulled away, and my mouth chased his, needing him to continue what he’d started. Or maybe I had started it? Who cared? I felt his mouth twisting into a smile as his hand tightened in my hair, wrenching my head back, exposing my throat.