Dahlia's Kiss

As if summoned by magic, Bean jumped onto the bed. He looked at me with his big green eyes and meowed, swishing his tail from side to side like an angry tiger. There was no doubt he heard his name and the word food in the same sentence and came to see what the holdup was.

“Oh, that cat,” Damian mumbled.

“Yes, that one,” I responded. “Now please go before he resorts to murder.” Bean raised one paw and shook it in the air, extending his claws and licking them. “He’s already plotting my demise.”

Damian pulled his shirt over his head, and I was a little sad that I could no longer see his stunning body. It was probably for the best, though. If I were to stand my ground, this could never, ever happen again. No matter how good it was. Bean watched him as he picked up his shoes and socks and settled onto the foot of the bed to finish dressing. His soft purrs told me he wasn’t bothered by the Incubus’ presence.

“When can I see you again?” Damian asked, now fully dressed and stepping carefully toward the door.

“Never.” I didn’t get up to follow him out and my cat nestled in beside me like a furry little protector. “Don’t show up here again. Don’t leave notes on my car. Forget I exist. It’s better that way.”

“For you maybe.” He paused, started to walk back to me, and changed his mind after a step. “I’m leaving my number on your kitchen counter and an address where you can find me. If it was true what you said about that guy killing people you’ve slept with and stealing your panties, you might need somewhere safe to go if things get hairy. If that happens, you always have a place with me. Even if you’re not my mate, I’ll take care of you. You can bring Bean too. The more the merrier.”

The sentiment warmed my heart. “Thank you. It won’t happen, though.”

“But if it does.” He held up one finger.

Bean meowed.

My phone rang from the living room where I’d thrown it. Damian grabbed it on his way to the door and tossed it to me. “I’ll see myself out. Lock the door behind me.”

I nodded to him, trying to identify the number on my screen.

“Hello?”

“Dahlia?” A southern drawl greeted my ears and sent a shiver down my spine. “I hate to tell you this, but the fucker got away. He never showed at the bar. He’s still out there.” Sterling sounded genuinely upset by the folly. I wasn’t sure how to tell him they didn’t catch the guy because he’d been with me.

Bean followed me into the kitchen and began to push his bowl across the floor. He looked up at me and meowed, his whiskers fluffing in protest.

“Sterling. I’m going to need to save your number in my phone.”

He made a noise before responding. “Make sure you save it under your mate.”

“I thought I made myself clear. I am no one’s mate.” These men really needed to get a grip.

“Then I’m changing my name to No One.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m coming over.” There was static on the other end of the line as if he were walking fast and the wind blew into the receiver. “I have some security footage from the crime scenes I want you to look at. I need to know if you recognize anyone in them.”

“I could do that at the station, Detective Sterling. I don’t need you in my apartment for that.” I dumped a tin of wet cat food in Bean’s bowl and watched him go to town.

“Oh, now I’m Detective Sterling, huh?”

I grinned. “You are when you can’t seem to take no for an answer.” The buzzer rang indicating someone requested access to the front door of the apartment complex. How the hell did Damian get past that? Someone must have let him in downstairs. “Someone’s ringing my buzzer.”

“I told you I was coming over.”

“And I told you no.”

He laughed. “Let me in, Dahlia.” The line disconnected.

Sighing heavily, I looked at my cat, who couldn’t be bothered to give me the time of day. His loud purr threatened to drown out my wayward thoughts about the man outside and the man who’d just departed. The bell rang again. The detective was not discouraged at all by my attempt to make him go away. Truth be told, even though I’d just been sated, my preternatural hunger fed like never before, I was still hungry for the New Orleans native who was marked to be my mate. Although Damian also wore that mark. It was all so confusing.

“What do you think, Bean?” I asked the Maine Coon. “Should I let him in?”

The cat, in typical cat fashion, ignored my question, flicking his tail in irritation. How dare I interrupt his dinner with such things?

Resigning myself to defeat, I pressed the button by the door to unlock the main entrance, holding it long enough for the man to enter. I counted to thirty, knowing that was exactly how long it would take him to cross to the elevator, then counted to sixty twice. As long as the elevator was on time, and it made no other stops along the way, Sterling was now on my floor. I’d never told him what apartment I was in, and I anticipated a phone call to ask. I held my phone out, watching the screen, waiting for it to vibrate. Instead, a heavy hand pounded on the door.