Her revengeful Bastard

Taking her home

*Kai*

As my car travels swiftly through the nearly vacated streets, I fight not to be disappointed that she had chosen the car over a bed in my hotel. I have an irrational urge for her to christen every single one of them. I knew eventually we would end up in the car together because I had instructed Jones to stay out of sight for an hour and then return with the news that no cabs were to be found. Although she doesn’t want me kissing her, and doesn’t want me touching her, I insisted on traveling with her.

I can’t explain this irrational need I have just to be with her, to give her something Kyle never has. Or the jealousy that coursed through me when she confirmed that the future Alpha has kissed her.

While she didn’t give him a name, I know her betrothed is the only man to whom she would have given that privilege. Her kissing me had been an aberration. Although my ego takes a measure of satisfaction in knowing she might have found Kyle’s kiss lacking in passion, another part of me doesn't like learning that Kyle might not be giving her his all. She deserves everything a man has to offer.

That thought I shove back into the corner of my mind where it can’t prick my conscience. She deserves far better than what I am going to eventually offer.

“What is the fragrance you wear ?” I ask. It will linger in my car, always reminding me that she has once been a passenger, and has sat mere inches from me. It will mock me, reminding me I didn’t move closer to take her in my arms and didn’t capture her mouth in order to ensure her passionate noises also reside within the confines of the vehicle.

Her voice is soft, almost longing. “Gardenia. It was my mother’s favorite. When I first apply it, I’m always swamped with memories of her hugging me before she would go to a ball”.

“You have a lot of memories of your parents”. I am not certain if it is a statement or a question.

“Not that many actually. Most revolve around my mother. My father was rather intimidating. So tall that I would get a pain in my neck looking up at him. He seemed like a giant at the time. In truth, I doubt he was even as tall as you. Our perspective changes as we grow older and grow taller. I would have liked to have had the opportunity to become less wary of him”. She lets out a small sigh.

I have no memories of the woman who gave birth to me, I don't even know what she looks like. As for my father, his height is not going to intimidate me.

“What of your mother, what does she smell like ?” She asks.

I have never given it much thought. “Bread, fresh from the oven, vanilla, recently brewed tea”.

“She sounds warm and homey”. Her smile is genuine.

“She’s always quick with a hug, and was equally quick with a slap if we didn’t behave”. I smile at the memories.

A small giggle preludes her words. “I suspect she fairly bruised her hand with you around”.

I grin. “Even when I grew tall enough to tower over her, she was never daunted. Earlier you spoke fondly of your guardians. What sort of punishment would they measure out ?”

“I never exhibited any behavior that required punishment. I was always quick to obey, wanting to please. Although if I’m honest, they are rather overprotective. Do you know, before tonight, I had never walked out of the residence unaccompanied ? And I certainly never traveled in a car with a gentleman I barely know. I’m probably being exceedingly careless to do so now, yet I feel remarkably safe. I don’t believe you’d take advantage”.

“You are rather foolish to believe that”. I admit.

She shakes her head. “No. If you were going to do something untoward, you’d have done it in your office, your lair where you rule”.

“You don’t consider the kiss overstepping the bounds ?” I enquire.

“Of course I do. It shouldn’t have happened”. She glances out the window, presenting me with her profile, limned by the occasional streetlamp. Odd, how even with the shadows, I can discern the upward slant of her nose. I should have kissed it while I had the chance. I will certainly do so the next time an occasion presents itself. Her nose, her brow, her cheeks, the top of her head. Damnation, I am reacting like a besotted schoolboy, wanting to kiss every quarter inch of her.

She turns her attention back to me. “As I mentioned, I’ve been protected. Sometimes I feel as though I will suffocate. I was curious to discover if all kisses were the same, so I welcomed the opportunity to discover the truth of it”.

“Are they … all the same ?” For me it is a rhetorical question. I know the answer, but I am curious as to whether she will admit to or accept the reality of it.

She looks back out the window. “No, they’re not”.

She sounds somewhat disappointed, which should please me. It doesn’t. I don’t like the notion of her being disenchanted with anything, even as I know a time will come when I will disappoint her most of all. The irritating besotted fool who apparently is considering taking up residence within me wants to ask if she preferred my kiss. Based on the way she ran, I may think she didn’t, but I also contemplated the alternative: that she enjoyed it far too much. A she-wolf betrothed to another man may feel a need to run from the realization she has chosen poorly.

“Kyle and I have an understanding”. She says softly, as though reading my thoughts. “Although at the moment it’s on shaky ground”.

Her words please me far too much, make me want to cross over the narrow expanse separating us and kiss her hard, thoroughly, to distraction. I’m not pushing her, I won’t question her further because I don’t want to expose my hand, to make her suspicious, to think I have too much interest in her relationship with the future Alpha.

“The rain has stopped”. She says quietly.

“So it has”. I agree.

We settle into silence. I am surprised by how much I enjoy merely being in her company, inhaling her fragrance … I might have Willoughby fetching me some gardenias for the offices, for the lobby. I wouldn’t mind being greeted by her scent when I stride into the hotel.

I don’t spend a great deal of time in the presence of others, unless it is required for business or a family obligation. I prefer keeping my own counsel, my own company. I have never been one for light, trivial banter. But with her, even the most trivial seems important. I like learning things about her. Not because I can use them to manipulate her, but because every aspect of her fascinates me.

The car comes to a halt. I open the door, leap out and reach back for her, taking incredible pleasure from her placing her hand in mine without hesitation.

“It's very wise to have your driver park on the street”. She says.

“Our arrival will be less conspicuous, especially if someone is wandering about the hallways”. I admit.

She shakes her head lightly. “They were all asleep when I left”.

“You assume once in their bed, people stay in bed. I assure you, my sweet, they do not”. I offer my arm.

“You don’t need to accompany me”. She says.

I am the one shaking my head this time. “I’m not going to leave you on the street”.

“And if you are seen, my reputation will be ruined”. She points out.

Eventually it will be, but not tonight. I am not yet weary of the chase. “We’ll keep to the shadows”.

I don’t much like the relief that washes through me when her hand lands near the crook of my elbow nor my desire to flex my muscles in order to remind her of my strength. I have never before felt the need to puff out my chest or demonstrate physical domination, preferring instead the mental prowess needed for negotiating. I want her sitting in my office, watching as I confer with solicitors and investors in order to ensure the deal favors me. She would no doubt be bored to tears. Or perhaps not.

We stroll along the edge of the drive, keeping our distance from the lighted path.

“You’re welcome to use my hotel parlor anytime you feel the need to escape the restraints here”. I tell her.

She peers over at me, her crooked smile soft, intriguing. I want to taste it once more. “I’ll keep that in mind”.

We reach the wide steps.

“Thank …”.

“I’ll escort you to the door, see you safely inside”. I say.

I have the sense she wants to argue, then decide she would gain nothing from it but a delay in being rid of me. At the door, I hold out my hand. “Your key, please”.

She scowls at me. “It’s not locked”.

Only when I try the latch, I discover it is. “I fear it is, my dear”.

Her eyes widen. “It can’t be”. Brushing aside my hand, she gives it a try.

“I know how to open a door”. I say laconically.

“I don’t understand. It wasn’t locked when I left”. She sounds desperate.

I shrug. “Obviously the butler made his rounds, locking things up, after you left”.

She sags against the door. “I hadn’t considered that he would do that. To be honest, I have never given any thought about those rituals. Someone is always waiting for my return, no matter the hour. Of course, they’d always known I’d left”.

Tonight they assumed she was in her bed. She looks devastated. All her plans are ruined for want of a key.

She moves away from the door, stretches her neck, looking one way and then the other. “Perhaps I can find a tree to climb, a window that’s open”.

“And risk breaking your neck ?” I ask.

“Better than having to explain to the Alpha and Luna what I’m doing out here this time of night”. She says, sounding like she means it.

It is left unsaid, but she telegraphs it clearly enough. I shouldn’t be hurt by the implication that she is ashamed to be seen with me. My entire life has involved facing the fact I am a shameful secret, and my rational self understands that no ranked she-wolf can effectively explain away being alone with a man, any man, in the dead of night. I always manage to master my emotions, but she somehow succeeds in leading them into rebellion. “I’ll get you inside with none being the wiser”.

Ceasing her survey of trees and windows, she swings around to face me. “How ?”

“I’m a man of many talents”. I hold out my arm. “Come on. We’ll go ’round to the back”.

When she places her hand on my arm, I note a small tremble. She is far more upset than she is letting on, and I recognize that she has every right to be. The future she has planned can come crashing around her with the discovery of the night’s adventures. I escort her around the side of the house and into the back gardens, then along the path that leads to the servants’ entrance. Once there, I knock briskly on the door.

“You’re going to awaken people”. She gasps.

“Only one if we keep very quiet”. I point out.

A young lad of about twelve, no doubt the Alpha’s servant boy, opens the door and squints out. His eyes go wide. “Miss Anna ! What are you doing out here ?”

I hold up a note. “If you ask no questions, seek no answers and forget that you were awakened tonight by a knock on the door, I have fifty dollars for you”.

The boy grins. “I can forget. Easy as pie”.

I hold the note toward him, and the lad snatches it handily. I turn to Anna. “In with you”.

“Thank you, Mr …”.

“No names”. I shake my head.

She nods. “Right. Thank you for seeing me safely home”.

“It was my pleasure”. I grin at her.

She seems to hesitate as though there is more she wants to say. Finally, she gives a little nod. “Good night, then”.

“Sleep well, Miss Anna”. Generous sentiment on my part when I hope she sleeps not at all, preferring she tosses and turns with thoughts of me.

She brushes past the boy holding the door, and I watch her rush toward the darkness, watch as it swallows her up and she disappears completely. Everything within me wants to go after her, wants to save her from the heartache that is to come. But I have waited so long, schemed so carefully. I can’t allow a mere slip of a girl with a tipped-up nose and a crooked smile to thwart me. Shoving back my doubts and ignoring the possibility of regrets, I hold another fifty towards the boy. “That’s so if I ever call upon you to remember this night, you do so in extreme detail”.

“I can remember it all”. He grins.

“Smart lad. There will be two more of those for you if you recount those details to the persons I indicate”. I lean down. “And just so all the details are clear, I go by the name of Kai Tempest”.

He nods very seriously. “Yes, sir”.

“And you, boy, should I need to find you, who do I ask for ?” Since Anna hadn’t called the boy by name, I doubt she even knows who he is.

“Toby. Toby Williams. I’m the Alpha’s servant boy”. He looks proud.

“Remember, Toby Williams, Alpha’s servant boy, not a word to anyone without my permission”.

Turning on my heel, I head back up the path, already arguing with myself, and already knowing I have just wasted fifty dollars. I will never call on Toby Williams to tell a soul what he knows.