When He Was Bad
Page 13

You are such a . . . why do you . . . oh!
He put his arms around Carries shoulders. Stop. Its okay. I know what Im doing.
No, Van. For once you dont know shit. She glanced back at him. And what, exactly, makes you think Irene Conridge will let you mark her?
Because the woman couldnt care less. If the means to an end keeps her breathing, shell agree.
Not on your life, Van Holtz.
Irene stormed into the kitchen, Van Holtz right on her heels.
Youre being unreasonable. If this is all I have to do to keep you alive, what does it matter?
Normally shed agree with him. Normally, shed turn around, pull her hair out of the way, and let the man have at it. Then shed go on about her life and hopefully never see him again. But something, she didnt know what, kept telling her that would be a mistake. A mistake she would never recover from.
No.
I thought we were friends now.
We are. Thats why I can be clear and concise without fear of reprisal. And the answer is definitely no.
Van Holtz let out one of his dramatic look what I have to put up with sighs and leaned against the kitchen counter. Irene, dont you want to go home?
Of course I do.
Then you give me two minutes and you can be out of here.
Or I can just leave.
And not live through the night.
And that affects you how?
I made a commitment.
Yes. You did. And I do truly appreciate it. But Im not going to do this. Nor am I letting you do this. Ill just go.
Irene stepped away from him and thats when his fingers closed around her wrist, halting her. She tried to pull her arm away, but he wouldnt let her go.
Im not joking, Van Holtz. Get off me.
Im not joking either. I wont be responsible for you dying.
You arent. I am. I absolve you of all wrongdoing in this matter. Now get the hell off me!
She yanked her arm again and, with a growl, the presumptuous bastard yanked her back against his chest. Slamming her foot into his instep and her elbow into his face, she distracted him enough to release her and she tried to scramble away.
But he was fast. His big arms wrapped around her waist and dragged her toward him. Irene gripped the sink and held on.
Van Holtz wasnt giving up, though. He pulled her back and her fingers slipped. Spotting a frying pan in the drying bin, Irene reached for it. Hed already taken a two-by-four to the head; a frying pan would probably cause just enough damage to get her free and away. Her fingers slid across a metalhandle and she grabbed blindly for it. Van Holtz swung her around, and Irene lashed out but only hit him in the leg.
Then they stared at each other in shock before they both looked down at his leg . . . and the lovely chefs knife protruding from his denim-covered thigh.
Horrified, Irene stepped back. Oh, my . . . I mean . . . She looked up to what had to be the angriest face shed ever seen. I swear, Van Holtz. I swear that was an accident.
Van Holtz didnt say anything, but he didnt have to. The expression on his face called her a liar, and the way his eyes shifted from human to wolf in a heartbeat told her she needed to runnow!
Irene made a wild leap for the door but she didnt even get near the opposite counter before she heard that snarl and the loud clang of the knife hitting the kitchen floor, then those big arms wrapped around her one more time. He slammed her against the wall with her back to him, using his body weight to hold her in place.
She tried to push herself away from the wall but his knee pressed between her thighs, throwing her off balance, and he used his chest to force her back against the wall.
Irene knew she could have begged him to stop. Pleaded with him. Or simply asked him nicely. But, for some unknown reason that until the end of time shed never understand, she decided fighting would be a better route.
Growling, she slammed her hand down onto his open wound and dug her fingers in. Shed apparently shoved that knife in far, because her fingers sank in deep and Van Holtz roared in pain. He didnt let her go, though. Instead he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head to the side.
She made one last-ditch effort to get him off her by pushing back, but the big bastard wouldnt budge. And then those fangs sank deep into her shoulder and Irene cried out in pain.
In retaliation, she dug her fingers in deeper but those damn fangs locked into her flesh even harder.
After several agonizing and rather physically painful moments, Van Holtz unhinged his jaw and released her while she unhooked her fingers from his wound.
With both of them panting, Irene rested her forehead against the wall and Van Holtz rested his against her shoulder.
For two people who prided themselves on always being in control, she considered this a rather tragic moment.
At what point had he lost control? When shed stabbed him with that knife? Yeah. He had gotten a little angry there. Or when shed tried to run? Yeah. That had annoyed him a bit.
Yet none of that had pushed him over the edge. Niles Van Holtz had lost control when shed told him no.
It wasnt ego either. It was something else. He could almost say he had been kind of hurt when shed said no with so much finality and a wee bit of vehemence. As if hed suggested something so horrendous.