Gravity (13 page)

flustered voice. “What Vampire?”

“He attacked me without provocation. We’re not typically aggressive to one another, but he

continued shoving me down the street and attracting too much fecking attention. I couldn’t risk a

human pulling out a camera and recording what I would have liked to do to that fanghole,” he said

with disgust laced on his tongue.

“Maybe you should have put the garlic in your pockets the other night,” I said, walking to the

car.

Christian spun me around and laid his right hand across my clavicle. His black eyes scoped the

parking lot. “What happened just now?”

“Nothing happened. Now quit feeling me up.”

He released his grip and I slid my key into the lock. This time, it went in without complaint.

Christian leaned over my back and spoke in a low voice beside my ear. “Your heart is racing a

mile a minute. A little car trouble wouldn’t cause that kind of reaction. There are tiny beads of

sweat on your brow that you probably aren’t even aware of; your hand is trembling, and if I tasted

your blood,” he said, holding my wrist to his mouth and smelling of my skin, “I would know just

how afraid you are.”

I snapped my wrist out of his grip. “Don’t threaten to bite me, Christian. That would not end

well.”

Before I could slam the door, he caught the frame. He looked at me long and hard. Studied me

the way you might look at the inner workings of a watch. When I turned the engine over, it

hopped to life without a stutter.

Chapter 10

Page lazily opened her eyes, warmly wrapped up in her grandmother’s blue afghan. The last

thing she recalled clearly? Trudging through the snow outside Silver’s house and then vomiting in

the bathroom. That must have been when her fever spiked.

She remembered getting up several times that night and chills racked her body relentlessly.

Her muscles still ached. Relics were at a disadvantage because they were one of the few Breeds

susceptible to human disease.

At least the worst of it was over. She wanted to kick herself for venturing out at the onset of

symptoms.

Page glanced over her right shoulder and gasped at a man looming next to her bed. It took a

second to realize she knew him.

Justus stood with one hand tucked in his pocket and the other in the fold of his armpit. His

body swayed slightly, but his eyes remained closed.

Dear God, the man was asleep.

Dawn peered through an opening in the drapes, dividing the room with a ray of hazy light. Her

window faced east, so that meant from the time she went to Silver’s house, twenty-four hours had

passed.

“Mr. De Gradi,” she whispered.

Page slowly sat up and peeled the blanket away. Startled by the sight of her bra and panties,

she yanked the blanket up to her chin. Gradually, her memory returned.

Oh no, she thought. Did I really strip in front of him? Page could have died from

embarrassment. Building a respectful relationship with clientele was critical, and she had

essentially given him a peep show.

“De Gradi,” she said firmly, pushing the flat of her hand against his stomach.

In a swift movement barely visible, his hand flew out and snapped around her wrist. Fear

slapped her in the face and she gasped.

After three hard blinks, he immediately released his grip and took a step back.

“No need to be frightened,” he said, rubbing his weary eyes. “You were ill. What can I get for

you?”

She wrapped the cover around her exposed back and said, “I need some privacy.” Justus

lowered his eyes and turned away.

With the blanket wrapped tightly around her, Page hopped off the bed in a hurry, not thinking

that her legs might be weak. She wobbled unsteadily and when Justus caught her, she wriggled

out of his grasp.

“I’ll leave you,” he said, turning away and closing the door behind him.

Her reflection in the oval mirror above the bathroom sink startled her. What a sight. Mangled

hair, pale skin, the bruise on her eye was starting to turn green, and her eyes were sunken in from

exhaustion. Not the look of a woman of twenty-six. Other women her age looked vibrant and

young, while Page’s lifestyle of stress had taken its toll. She dressed conservatively so the

immortals wouldn’t see her as such a child.

The fever must have caused her skin to become sensitive, so she passed on the shower and

slipped into a blue robe. No point in running a comb through her hair since he had already seen

Page looking her worst, but she did brush her teeth.

Page had been told a number of times that if she ditched the reading glasses for contacts and

put on something sexy, she’d have no problems getting a man. She had once dated a guy named

Gaston who told her the smart look was hot—until a girl with double D’s walked into his life.

School had always been a critical step in her career path until the day she discovered she was

infertile. That changed everything and Page dropped out of school to work fulltime. That

knowledge fueled her desire to become the best at her job; if she couldn’t pass on her genes, then

she would serve her Breed well before her genetic line ended. As she had no siblings, the La Croix

family knowledge would die with her.

When Slater found out her secret, he insisted that she undergo fertility treatments and try to

conceive with him. Slater wasn’t attracted to her, and yet he expected her to carry his child?

Combining their genetic knowledge to produce brilliant offspring became his obsession.

That was enough to make her nauseous all over again.

Page opened the bathroom door and noticed the sheets had been changed and the bed turned

down. She tightened the belt around her knee-length cotton robe and crossed the living room.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, entering the kitchen.

“You need to eat,” he ordered, standing by the stove. No, he demanded.

“There’s no need for you to stay here, Mr. De Gradi. I had no intention of putting you out.” She

took a seat in the nearest chair and stared at the linoleum floor. “I can take care of myself; I’ve

been doing it for years.”

“If you took proper care of yourself, you would not be sick.” He twisted around and gave her a

scolding appraisal. She hated that look on men. It was the primitive “me man, you woman”

sentiment and implied that women were just no good on their own.

“I do fine.”

He turned around and said quietly, “You could do better, Page.” She glanced at his long-

sleeved shirt with the V-neck opening in the front. The casual style reminded her of Robin Hood or

something.

“Why do you address me by my first name when I never gave you permission to do so?”

It was inappropriate for a client to address a Relic informally unless told otherwise. Some just

called her Relic, which was acceptable.

“Would you prefer that I call you Mademoiselle La Croix?”

Her breath caught.

His pronunciation of her French name, along with the appropriate title, was perfect. So much

so that it straightened her spine like an arrow.

“Are you of French origin?”

He turned away and scraped the skillet with a spatula. Page stood up and noticed he was

victimizing the hell out of a couple of eggs that never did any wrong to him.

“Here, let me do that,” she said with a smile.

He shifted his body between her and the pan.

“You’re murdering the eggs.” She looked up at him and realized this was one battle she wasn’t

going to win.

The tips of the hairs on his head captured the light and were dark blond. Thanks to spending

all night at her house, he’d also gone without a shave and the stubble on his face was the same

color.

“Then tell me how you prefer them. Tell me what to do and I’ll prepare them the way you like,”

he offered.

The open part of his shirt around his collarbone caught her attention. It seemed like no matter

what time of day or night, Justus De Gradi was always at his best. Fresh shave, sharp clothes,

expensive watch, and designer shoes. Something about this look on him was rustic and simple.

“No,” she said, reconsidering. “What you have is fine.”

This Mage had been more than generous in not only driving her car home, but also taking care

of her while she was sick. Page wasn’t about to put him down for making her a meal.

He stalked over to the trash can and dumped the eggs inside. “No, it’s not fine. Tell me how

you like your eggs.”

“You just wasted them! I would have eaten your eggs.”

“Tell me how you want them cooked. But first, I want you to sit in that chair.”

While his words were curt and demanding, he made no move to force her. He wasn’t trying to

boss her around in the wrong kind of way; Page was on her feet when she should have been lying

down. She often used that tone with her more stubborn clients. Doctors always make the worst

patients.

Too tired to argue, Page gave in and eased into the chair. While scraping her fingers through

her tangled hair, she gave the Mage instructions on how to cook eggs and he followed them to a

T. Right down to the correct amount of butter, milk, and pepper.

The real question became a matter of whether or not she could stomach this splendid meal. It

would be a shame for him to have gone through all that trouble only for her to hurl it back up.

How delicious it looked! One taste was all it took and the engine started up in her worn-out

body, craving nutrition and rest.

“Make yourself something to eat, Mr. De Gradi. Anything in the kitchen is yours for the taking.”

“Not before you,” he said, stealing the chair on her right.

When her fork scraped up her third bite, Page felt self-conscious. “Could you stop watching me

chew? It’s impolite.”

His eyes flicked away and rested on a ballpoint pen sitting in the center of the table. “Are you

missing work?”

She considered that. For the first time, in fact. “I am, but my partner will fill in for me. We’re

busy right now, but it’s not as bad as we anticipated.”

“Do you enjoy your line of work?” he asked conversationally.

It seemed cozy having a personal chat with Justus in her small kitchen, away from his

extravagant home and without her work hat on. “I do. What I enjoy the most are the pregnancies

with Shifters and bringing those sweet little babies into the world. And then cases like Silver’s

come along every so often that really have me earning my keep. They challenge my intellect.” She

took another bite of food. “These eggs turned out really good.”

“Your partner is Slater?”

“Yes, the jughead who showed up at your place.” She chewed slowly and pushed the eggs

around with her fork. “Relics partner for life—it’s not something we switch around on a whim. We

build a trusting relationship with clients that could be broken if the partnership is severed. They’re

suddenly put in an unfair position where they’re forced to choose between us, and I hate doing

that… but I’m going to put in a request for a new partner. I can’t work with Slater anymore.”

Justus nodded and clasped his hands together on the table. She noticed how strong they were,

how masculine. My God, he could crush tennis balls with those things.

He stretched and stood up, setting his chair beside hers and taking a seat again. Page shrank a

little when he leaned in close.

“May I assess your injury?”

“I’ve already examined it. Nothing’s broken; it just looks ugly.”

He reached up and cradled her head in his left hand, gently touching her face with his right.

When she winced, he leaned forward. Close enough that she wondered if her breath was bad and

quickly shut her mouth. For a moment, tiny sparks glimmered deep in the irises of his eyes—a

common trait for an older Mage.

He released a heavy breath and sat back. “It will heal.”

With a history in medicine, this came as no surprise, but it soothed him to be able to conclude

she wouldn’t perish from a bruise. Page smiled appreciatively.

“I think I better lie back down,” she said, rising from the table.

Justus followed behind her as she made her way into the living room and curled up in her

favorite spot on the sofa. Page hated dark rooms and always made it a point to have the curtains

open in the daytime, even on cloudy days.

“Will you open those for me?” she asked, pointing at the window on her left. “I enjoy the light.”

Justus silently crossed in front of her and pulled the curtains open. Tiny snowflakes the size of

peas sifted through the air like powdered sugar.

“Did you turn up my heater? It’s warmer in here than usual; maybe I’m still feverish.”

His face turned scarlet and he quickly left the room. It seemed like the moment he walked out,

the air chilled ten degrees and Page shivered. When Justus returned, he walked over and draped

her blue afghan across her legs. Who was this guy?

“I know I’ve already imposed my brashness on you, but do you mind if I call you Justus, or

would you prefer Mr. De—”

“Justus,” he said, sliding his hands in his pockets.