Hyde, an Urban Fantasy (22 page)

“Yeah, because I always bring along a dress in the off-chance I fall into some asshole’s pool in the middle of a party I’m crashing.”

He smiled broadly and chastised, “Language, Eden, language.”

She stopped wringing the water out of her hair and looked at him. “What did I say?”

“I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Just what I always wanted.” She stomped through the crowd of people still gawking at her, her pants sloshing from side to side, and went into the house.

The thought that she was going to ruin his floors made his smile even bigger. He saw Jolie and Carter tucked into an intimate corner, Jolie’s arm resting nonchalantly on Carter’s.

Jolie shook her head slightly from side to side. As relaxed as her grip appeared, Mitch knew she was holding Carter back from the hero routine he desperately wanted to do. She mouthed, “Should I go?”

Mitch shook his head, not wanting to interrupt what was looking to be a connection between his assistant and Eden’s boy-toy.
Two birds. And I didn’t even need a stone.

Wondering why he wanted to lessen Eden’s embarrassment, especially since she’d probably never see any of these people again, he said to the crowd at large, “Anyone know a good mason? I need to have that patio leveled.” Ignoring their muttered replies, he strode into the house, wondering what the soggy girl’s next trick would be.

He followed the trail of water droplets. She must have tried every room before leaving a puddle in front of his bedroom door. Her last choice was the only room he’d forgotten to lock before the party. Throwing a party was bad enough, but the idea that people might get ‘lost’ and ‘accidentally’ be peeking into his life was absolutely unacceptable.

As soon as she saw the knob turn, Eden cursed herself for not locking the door. Her eyes darted around his room for something to cover herself with, her wet clothes wrapped up in the towel at her feet.

As she reached for the bedspread, she saw Mitch’s face, knowing that her expression matched his exactly—shock. Except his immediately turned into amusement, while hers stayed frozen. At least she still had her bra and underwear on. Wrapping her hands around her breasts, then her bottom-half, then back to her chest did nothing but make his smile larger. She glanced down at her body and saw, with a large amount of horror, that her attempts at covering herself had only made her breasts press together and look fuller. So she dropped her arms to her sides and jutted out a hip, daring him to keep laughing.

“Please, keep fidgeting. It's improving the show,” he said, chuckling.

She matched his stare, willing
his
to rise above chest-level. “In case you didn’t notice, my clothes got wet. I can't wear them.”

“Too bad you didn’t bring your overnight bag early. Make sure you bring pajamas tomorrow. An old lady nightgown or something else that covers you from head to toe. I’m easily distracted.”

She forced her hands to be still at her sides, fingers denting her thighs. “Since I won’t be staying the night, I’m not bringing anything.”

“Oh, you’ll stay the night. So if you don’t want to wear anything, I think you should know that I will be having very naughty thoughts about you.”

“I said, ‘bringing’ nothing, not
wearing
nothing.” Dang it, of all the men in the world, why was she only attracted to this one? He was her Kryptonite—weakening her knees, destroying her strength.

“Oh, my mistake.” His grin stayed put.

“Could you please go tell Carter that I want to go home?"

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

Somehow, her embarrassment made him chatty. Sadly, she seemed to be quite adept at providing comic relief for him. Might as well get something out of it herself. “I do.” She glanced down at her wet things. “Can I at least use your dryer?”

“Don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a dryer? How do you dry your clothes?”

“I don’t. I send them out.”

“Someone else washes your underwear?”

“Don’t wear underwear.”

“Right, I forgot.” She rolled her eyes. “Then can I borrow a t-shirt or something? Or don’t you wear those either.”

He wiped his mouth roughly. “Close your eyes.”

“No.”

“Close your eyes,” he repeated, this time with more frustration.

“Why?”

His shoulders tightened. “So you can't see me staring at your tits. Jesus, just close your damn eyes.”

She made a big show of it, closing them slowly and completely before opening them a crack and watching him through her lashes. When he left the room, she flopped down onto the foot of the bed and pulled the duvet around her, happy with the knowledge that, when she got up again, there would be wet spots that matched her underwear and bra. Petty and childish, but still incredibly satisfying.

When he came back into the room, she shut her eyes again. “Yeah, like I didn’t know you opened them. Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Open your goddamned eyes.” He shoved a large white box out at her. “Take it.”

She lowered the duvet and took the box from him. Inside was a black dress surrounded by red tissue-paper. She pulled the dress out. It would be about knee-length on her and had black beads around the spaghetti straps and neckline. It was beautiful.

“Where did this come from?” she asked.

“I don't know. Jolie showed me a webpage, I picked one out, and she had it delivered.”

“For me?”

Shaking his head, he said, “It doesn’t match my pumps, so, yeah, I guess you can have it.” His half-grimace brought a dimple to his cheek. So the man did actually have the capacity to blush. But he still covered it with a thick layer of sarcasm. Being nice was definitely new territory for him. And not being suspicious of him was new to her.

“You got it for me. Why?”

He blew out a breath, obviously uncomfortable. “Since you don’t seem to be able to leave me alone, I thought you might come tonight. In a brief moment of insanity, I even played around with the idea of inviting you. I assumed you would wear sweats or have to mug someone to get something suitable to wear. So I . . . .”

Who was this man standing in front of her? She liked this side of him—it proved he was human. “It hurts you to be nice to me, doesn’t it?”

His blush disappeared, replaced by a clenched jaw and a go-to-hell look. “You can wear it or stay here half naked, I couldn’t care less. Of course, when the party is over, I’m going to come back here, see you in your underwear and care very much indeed. Your choice.”

Yep, it hurt him. She smiled. “Thank you.” She held the dress over her bottom as she headed into the bathroom to put it on.

“Whatever.” His voice was muffled through the locked door. “I just figured that since you normally don’t seem to care what you look like— No, that came out wrong. You don’t spend a lot of time on your appearance. Christ, I’m dying here. Throw me a bone, would ya?”

She slid the dress over her head and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “You’re a little late, but thank you.”

“Late for what?”

“My birthday. It was two months ago.” She walked out of the bathroom. The look on his face let her know he approved . . . and was definitely in pain. “Could you . . . um . . . zip me up?”

§          §          §

Mitch wanted to chop off his hands and throw them to the dogs as he zipped up her dress. They were shaking harder than a paint mixer at Home Depot.
It’s because of tomorrow. I’m nervous about tomorrow, that’s it.
Had this happened the first time he’d shown Jolie all those years ago? No, he didn’t think so. Damn it.

His belly convulsed as he felt Hyde slug him. His eyes rolled back, and his body fell forward. He threw out his hands to catch himself, knocking Eden onto the bed.

“Stop it!” she yelled, flipping over, ready to fight him off. When she saw his face, she scrambled farther onto the bed.

His stomach spasmed in rolling waves as he tried to control himself. “Get Jolie. Now!”

Eden jumped off the side of the bed. “Are you alright?”

“Get Jolie!”

He watched her run barefoot from the room, slip on the water at the door, and keep moving.
Not now. Not now.
He tried to slow his breathing, the pounding in his chest, as the beast within him clawed to get out. A few seconds later, he heard footsteps on the stairs, but didn’t know how many feet were making them.
Christ, it sounds like the whole fucking party.

He was shivering from the effort of keeping Hyde down when he saw Eden and Carter following Jolie through the doorway. But it was working. The bastard inside of him was quieting, though not without a fight.

“Oh my God, Mitchell.” Jolie blocked the other two from coming in, her arms posted at ten and two on the doorjamb. “It’s not tonight. It’s not supposed to be tonight!” Her voice shook from fear or shock. Maybe both.

“You need to get everyone out.” His voice was strained but coherent. “Tell them I’m ill. Violently ill. Get them out and then hurry back up here.”

She nodded and headed back downstairs.

Carter and Eden were frozen where they stood, staring at him like he was some sort of freak show. Which he kind of was. Or would be very, very soon.

Pointing at Carter, he said, “You. Leave. Now. And you”—he switched his gaze to Eden—“make yourself comfortable. Tonight’s going to be a long one.”

“I’m not leaving her with you,” Carter said.

Eden turned toward him and pulled his face down to hers. “I’m fine. He’s not going to hurt me, are you, Mitch?”

God, I hope not.
“No. I promised, didn’t I?”

Carter looked down at Eden’s attire with a big, fat “what the—” in his expression, but didn’t ask about where she’d gotten the dress. He slammed a fist against the wall. “You better take care of my girl, Mitch.”

Your girl. Yeah, she sure as hell isn’t mine.
His tension very high and his patience very low, he growled, “Don’t call me Mitch.”

“Why not?”

Now was not a good time to argue with the guy. But damn it, he couldn’t stop himself. “My name is Mitchell. No one calls me Mitch.”

“Eden does. All the time.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does. So does Chastity.”

“Hmm . . .” He swallowed and then painfully shrugged. “Show me you got an ass like hers and I’ll let you call me Mitch. Until then, it’s Mitchell.”

“You’re such a dick. Just don’t screw her over, man. She’s been through enough of that.”

As Carter huffed off, Mitch yelled, “Hope you had fun at the party.”

Why today? For years it had been controlled—every five weeks like clockwork. Ever since he had accepted the evil inside of him and turned being a major asshole into a full-time job. Letting his anger out thirty-five days in a row had reduced Hyde’s visits from every few days to one horrible night. Why now? What had changed? He put his hand up to his carotid and counted. Four beats in a row then a long pause when it should have been the normal two, break, two, break. Christ, what was broken? He was
awake,
for Christ’s sake. He picked up the lamp from his nightstand, ripped its plug out and threw the thing against the wall.

Eden gasped and ran from the room.

“Wait,” he called out. He’d forgotten she was there. He stood up slowly, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as he walked down the hall, unlocked a door and went in.

Leaning on the one chair in the room, he heard Jolie’s voice behind him, then the door closing.

“What’s happening to you, Mitchell?”

“I don’t know. So much has been going on lately. I just don’t know.”

“You’ve been stressed out a bunch of times, but it’s never changed the day.” She opened a drawer in the antique dresser and pulled out a keychain and a large syringe. “I think we both know what’s changed.”