Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2) Read online

  Remo sighed. “Yes, among other things.” He paused, and I could almost feel him thinking, like he was trying to figure out how much to tell me.

  “I could just ask Dahlia,” I pointed out.

  He grunted. “She’s a turncoat.” There was no heat in his words, though. “Santos and I go way back. We have been at war for years. He wants what I have: power, respect, influence, and territory. But he won’t go out and make it for himself.”

  I thought about what he was saying. “The power . . .”

  “The number of vampires who work for me is the main source; they all bring certain abilities and talents, and I put them to work in different areas. I’m particularly good at understanding where to place people to get the best out of them.” For a moment I thought of Dahlia and her friendship with me. Surely she wouldn’t be my friend only for Remo. He continued.

  “I have nearly three hundred vampires in my gang, the largest in North America. Santos has not even half that, and his are spread out, avoiding working for him because he doesn’t have the ability to keep them in line. He thinks that if he can kill me, he can take the vampires who are loyal to me. What he doesn’t understand is that when a vampire boss is killed, the loyalties of their followers don’t automatically shift. They can go wherever they wish. Santos . . . he is a fool. A dangerous one, but a fool nonetheless.”

  “How long . . . have you been at war with him?” I glanced up as his furrowed brow.

  “Since the day I was turned into a vampire. Nearly four hundred years.”

  “Fricky dicky, that’s a long dang time to hold a grudge. Why does he hate you?” For a moment I couldn’t understand, and then I thought of Colleen. Maybe I could hold a grudge that long.

  A tired smiled crossed his lips. “It’s . . . a complicated story, one I’d rather not get into right now.”

  I mulled over his words, thinking of the many implications of his world that I’d not considered before. “And . . . the influence. You have people who work for you in high places, don’t you? Like Officer Jensen, only higher than him.”

  He nodded and once more redirected. “Yes. But perhaps we can talk of other things besides vampire politics?”

  I understood a little. Dahlia had told me that Remo didn’t open up; no vampires opened up to the outside word, or to other Super Dupers. But with me, Remo let me in, despite us having the wrong kind of fangs for each other.

  “Do you want to get something to eat?” I asked, then immediately cringed at my faux pas.

  Remo laughed, spun me around, and stared down into my face. “Are you offering?”

  I blushed and looked away. “I didn’t . . . I mean, not like that. I wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

  “You should eat,” he said, a grin on the side of his lips. “If you are anything like the other shifters I know, food is essential after you flip back and forth.”

  My stomach rumbled in agreement. “Yeah, I could eat.” I froze. All my clothes were gone, and even the stack of papers that proved who I was were with Tad. Worse, though, was the simple fact that I’d left all my money back at home. The little bit of change I’d had in my skirt pocket had been for a coffee.

  “Umm, actually, no, I can’t. I have to go back to number thirteen.” That was Remo’s crew’s vampire safe house I was staying at on the other side of the Wall. Seemed rather fitting, considering all the bad luck I’d had lately. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Good things had happened there too.

  “I’ll pay.” He cut through to the issue.

  My face heated up. “No, it’s okay, I can wait till I get back home.”

  He was shaking his head as I spoke. “There is an Italian restaurant around here that has been in business for twenty years. The humans rave about it.” He looked away from me, checked the street signs, and then had us moving again. The thought of lasagna, garlic bread, and Caesar salad had me drooling. I rubbed a hand over my mouth to make sure I didn’t in fact have drool on my lips.

  We walked in silence, though I saw a flutter of white feathers up ahead of us. I glared at the feathers and the face attached to them. Remo didn’t seem to notice Ernie sitting on the streetlight, grinning down at me. I wasn’t sure I trusted the chubby cherub. He’d played both sides of the field when it came to Achilles and Hera, and that had almost gotten both me and my brother killed.

  At the same time, he’d helped me understand what I was and what I was capable of. So to say our relationship was complicated was a bit of an understatement. I wanted to trust him. I just wasn’t sure that was the best idea. For now, I waved at him to get lost. The last thing I wanted was an audience when I was on a date with Remo. Ernie winked and blew me a kiss, then to add to it, he spun around and flashed his bare white bottom at me.

  I snorted and averted my eyes. Remo gave me a funny look and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head, not wanting to explain, and not really needing to. Ernie was like that. One minute silly and my friend, the next working for the other team.

  But Ernie wasn’t going to be ignored.

  He flew right in front of us, grinning. “You two on a dress-up date?”

  I clenched my teeth. “Ernie, not now.”

  “Oh, come on. Let me ride along with you. I haven’t shot anyone with my trusty arrows in a long time.”

  “And you’re not going to start now,” I pointed out. He shrugged, then mock frowned.

  “Maybe my arrows could come in handy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Would they work on Theseus? Make him fall in love with me so I could boss him around?”

  Ernie shook his head. “No, they don’t work on the gods and demigods.”

  “Then I doubt they can help me,” I said, and he slumped, his smile sliding off his face.

  “You don’t need to be mean.” He pouted.

  “I’m not.” I held a hand out to him. “Ernie, I just . . .”

  “Never mind,” he said as he turned and flew away.

  I called after him. “I’m sorry, Ernie!” He flapped a hand back at me that looked suspiciously like he’d flipped me the bird. I sighed. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. It was definitely a Monday.

  “He’ll be fine,” Remo said. “He wants to help.”

  “I know. But . . . trusting him is hard.”

  Our conversation stalled as we reached the restaurant, and it was only then that another reason not to go to dinner hit me. I was still in a long black robe. With absolutely nothing else on underneath it. A cool breeze ghosted up along my legs as if to point out just how naked I was. I clamped my arms over my middle.

  “I think I should just go back to the house. Really,” I said.

  Remo raised his eyebrows at me, and my heart might have stumbled over itself in an effort to pick up speed. “Why?”

  “I’m not dressed. I mean, I am, but hardly.” I gripped my waist harder.

  He shrugged, but a smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll see you home, then. It’s the least I can do, since you saved me at the courthouse. Santos almost won the war between us.” He tugged at the edges of my robe and pulled me closer to him. “I can take you back across the Wall. Unless you want to stay in the city. With me.”

  His hands skimmed up my sides and around to my back. Breath hitched in my throat, and I knew I had to say something. “Maybe?” Wait, no, that was not the word. No, thank you. Sorry, I’m busy. I can’t, I’m married. Any of those. Not maybe!

  Remo grinned, and his fangs flashed at me for a split second. The view did nothing to deter my brain from wanting him to kiss me again. From wanting his hands on my bare skin. Oh dear Lord in heaven, I was in trouble.

  “Maybe?” he echoed back to me. This was forbidden, and we both knew it. Tad and Dahlia could get away with the cross-species dating. As Remo had pointed out, they were testing the waters. But Remo was the head boss of the biggest gang of vampires in North America. There was no way it would go unnoticed that he was dating a nonvampire.

  My lips parted to answer, and he took it as an invitat
ion, dipping his head to kiss me. His tongue traced my lips, as if tasting my skin, skimming the edges before darting into my mouth. He pressed me into his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. So much for holding back.

  In and out his tongue slid, soft and sensuous as it tangled with my own, the sweet flavor of his mouth drawing me in like a drug I craved. A low groan slid out of him as his hands slipped lower to my hips, and then lower to cup my bottom, pulling me tight against him.

  A part of my brain flipped on, reminding me that only moments before I’d been thinking about how wrong it was to kiss him because of my situation, and now here I was, locking lips once more. When he loosened his hold on me and moved his mouth to my jaw, nipping the edge, I gulped for air. As if that would somehow power my brain into coming up with an appropriate response. Something along the lines of “You have to stop.”

  I stared up at the night sky, trying to come up with something, anything, that would slow this down. “You healed up pretty fast.”

  “Yes, it’s a benefit of being a master vampire.” He didn’t slow, only breathed the words into my skin, which became a vibration that tripped over my whole body. Roger had never roused this kind of passion in me. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me being a Super Duper either. However, thoughts of Roger slapped some sense into me more than anything else could have, digging deep into the beliefs I still held on to by a mere thread. No matter how I denied it, the Firstamentalist point of view still clung to me despite my attempted rejection of its beliefs.

  I was a married woman, no matter what the judge said. And until I had those dang divorce papers in my hand, I had to behave like a married woman.

  “I’m married, even if it’s falling apart. I can’t do . . . this . . . until it’s all done.” My words came out in a heated whisper that was anything but off-putting. Even to me.

  “You keep saying that”—he nipped at the edge of my collarbone, drawing a low moan from my lips—“but it’s not stopping you. I don’t think you really believe it. You know it’s over. You know they will never give you a proper divorce. You might as well begin to accept it.” He licked along the base of my neck, sucking my skin in at spots, then scraping his teeth over the sensitized areas, rubbing his face against me like a large cat marking territory. The stubble on his jaw against my sensitive skin sent the sensations into overdrive, and I fought to keep my mind on track.

  Breathing hard, struggling to think straight, I tried a different direction. His words were at odds with the sensations. A part of me didn’t like what he implied, but I couldn’t pull away from him; the heat between us was too much, too intense, and too . . . lovely.

  “Speaking of healing up . . . when did you become a doctor?” I threw the question out like a life preserver, desperate that it would help me. “Was it to impress a girl?”

  He pulled back from me as if I’d shoved him, and his face closed down in a split second. My mouth dropped open. All the heat that seconds before had glued us together evaporated like steam in the cold January air.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” I asked.

  Remo didn’t answer, just turned and walked away, the impromptu make-out session over as if it had never happened. I was disappointed, and then horrified at being disappointed. What was wrong with me? Were snakes horny beasts? Maybe that was it.

  He walked ahead of me until we reached a bus stop. “This one will take you all the way to the Wall.” He handed me my single paper back, and I took it, numb.

  His cool demeanor should have made me happy. Seeing as I needed space between us. I did. Really. So why was this hurting me so much?

  Remo passed me a handful of change, his hand never touching mine. He turned away, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open. It was the first time I’d seen some emotion from him other than his cocky smile or smoldering anger.

  “Thanks for seeing me home.” I couldn’t help the parting shot. Mostly because my feelings were hurt. Maybe Santos was right; maybe I was just a tool to Remo, or worse, a weapon to be pulled out when he needed help and kept happy with a few kisses. And when that tool asked questions he didn’t like, he was able to walk away.

  Maybe worse yet . . . was he using his charm on me, making me believe he cared when he didn’t? Could he be using my unruly hormones against me to make me blind to his actual objective of taking down Santos at any cost?

  He could do it if he felt nothing for me.

  And that stung more than I could have possibly imagined.

  CHAPTER 4

  The bus ride home was tedious, and my mind wouldn’t stop obsessing over the possibilities that lay between Remo and me. I couldn’t escape them, and each time I tried, the varied scenarios came flooding back. I finally resorted to reciting recipes under my breath, running through ingredients and instructions for everything from white chocolate–macadamia nut cookies to pasticiotti over and over again.

  By the time I reached the Wall, I was beyond hungry, tired, emotionally drained, and footsore. The bus had taken me within two miles of the main entrance to the Wall, but I’d had to walk the rest of the way in bare feet.

  I reached the forty-foot-tall Wall and paused, staring at the wide-open gates. A few Super Dupers came and went, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. The human protestors sitting to the side of the structure around a tiny burning fire, however, did catch my attention. As I approached, they all jumped up and waved signs at me, as if I wouldn’t see them otherwise.

  “You don’t have to go back in there. Equality for all!” A young woman with dark curls and an earnest, pretty face held her hand out to me, and I stared at it like it was a bomb. She didn’t draw back. “Please, take my hand. We are all one in this world.” A lilting Irish accent wrapped her words up in a nice little bundle.

  “Supernaturals are sensitive too! They have feelings!” another protestor yelled.

  I paused. “Are you actually advocating for Super Duper rights?” They all blinked at me like I’d spoken Chinese, and I cleared my throat. “I mean, supernatural?”

  “Yes, here, read this.” She thrust a paper into my hand. “You don’t have to live behind that Wall; we can all live together in harmony!”

  I stared at the paper. It listed all the rights that Super Dupers currently lived without.

  Lack of equality. No voice in the government. Inability to own property on the south side of the Wall. Inhumane treatment by the law in general. They were right, but they were also so very wrong.

  My lips twitched and I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. “Listen, I know you believe it, but not all supernaturals are nice. Some of them are downright nasty and will attack you without thought. They will kill you as soon as they look at you.”

  “You didn’t,” she pointed out.

  I sighed. I didn’t know how to explain to her how I felt. I wanted equality; I would get my inheritance and bakery back. But the reality was, not all Super Dupers should be integrated into society. I thought about the deviousness of Merlin. The blood-lusting vampires who Remo kept a tight rein on. Even Oberfluffel’s werewolf task force. They were all deadly in their own ways and could make mincemeat pies of any human who irritated them. If I was honest, even I could be that deadly. At the stadium, it had been pure luck that I’d not mowed down a fair number of humans in my effort to get to Achilles before he killed Tad.

  But whose decision was it to make?

  Not mine.

  And not the protestors’ either. There had to be a better system. I thought about Damara, the satyr and sometimes healer. She’d thought Zeus was the answer, that he could manage the population of supernaturals and help them integrate into the human world. Maybe he could have, if he’d cared about anyone but himself.

  “Super Dupers—I mean, supernaturals—are not safe. You have to believe me that you are in danger here,” I said, frustration filling my words. How could I make them see, make them understand?

  Almost as if on cue, a twisted werewolf came roaring, literally
roaring, out of the Wall’s gate, partially shifted. He spied the group of protestors who cheered for him as he escaped the Wall.

  Their cheers turned to screams as he rushed them, teeth snapping and spit flying. I could have almost sworn he laughed as he chased them around. Like a rat in the kitchen scaring all the old ladies. He passed me once, and there was laughter on his long muzzle. Definitely playing. But it only proved the point of what I was trying to say.

  I leapt forward, the robe tangling around my legs. I dropped to the ground, struggled to my feet, and got in front of the group a split second before the werewolf came around for another pass.

  “Stop!” I held a hand out, and he skidded to a halt, shook his head, and let out a whine. I put all the strength and power I could into my voice. “Go back, you stay behind the Wall, that’s where you belong, you maniac.”

  He whimpered again, shook his head, and bowed his shoulders, his words slurred, as though he struggled to speak over his mouthful of teeth. “I’s just playing.”

  “No playing with humans; you’ll hurt them.” I softened my tone, and he lifted a dark eyebrow at me over a bright-gold eye, hope lighting his features.

  “You play?”

  “No, go home.”

  He bobbed his head and tried to go around me. “Home, good. Outside.”

  I pointed at the Wall. “No. The north side of the Wall is your home. Go on now.”

  Another low whine slid from him as he turned, tucked his tail between his legs, and scuttled back the way he’d come. He glanced over his shoulder once and stuck his overlong bright-pink tongue out at me. It flipped a good four inches out of his mouth. “No fun,” he grumbled.

  I stood there and made sure he went back behind the Wall. He sat down right at the edge and stared at me. I rolled my eyes. At least he was listening. Sort of.

  “You stopped him,” the Irish-accented girl said, awe in her voice.

  I turned to look at the lady protestor. “Well, I couldn’t let him attack you. Even if he thought he was just playing.”