Page 5 of Fall into Place

“Why not?” he snarled.

He took another step toward her, and she felt overwhelmed, her senses flooded with every aspect of this hulking brute of a man. He was easily a foot taller than she was, thick with muscle, and he smelled of pine and musk, like he was the essence of the Isle itself. She didn’t know how he tasted…but god, she wanted to.

Desperately.

“You know exactly why not!” Isobel flailed. Above them, giant moonflowers grew tall and twisted, their blue and purple petals glowing in the starlight, casting Callum’s face in soft prisms. Try as she might, Isobel couldn’t get the image out of her mind of Callum pressing her against one of those thick moonflower stalks, his hands roving roughly down her dress as she moved her body against his, savoring the delicious friction—no. No! She couldn’t do this! They couldn’t do this.

“If Felix finds out…” she whimpered, unable to finish the sentence. He’ll kill you, Callum.

“I’m not afraid of Felix.” Callum’s British accent was gruff, his voice low and graveled—just the sound of it sent rumbles through Isobel’s core. “He’s wanted me dead for a century, and he’s never managed it yet.”

“He’s my lover.” Isobel’s voice broke. “I owe him everything.”

“You owe him your freedom?” Callum challenged. “Your autonomy?”

“No,” Isobel conceded. “But I do owe him my loyalty.”

Callum leaned close to her, his breath tickling her neck as he spoke softly against her ear.

“I’ve spent months imagining this moment,” he intoned. “The way I want to touch you, to make you scream. I’ve considered every angle, every detail.”

“Why are you torturing me like this?” she pleaded. “You’re my lover’s sworn enemy—”

“That’s his choice,” Callum said firmly. “And this is yours. You know what I want. And I know what you want. The question is whether you’re going to take it.”

“I…” Isobel gasped for breath and faltered for words. Her small body heaved beneath her silky black peignoir as she filled her lungs, trying to convince herself to run, to leave, to go back to Felix’s castle, to go anywhere outside the presence of this devastating man, anyplace that would make her forget how badly she was burning with desire.

“You what?” he prodded. He leaned a little closer, so she could feel his chest brush against hers, and that was it, she couldn’t take it anymore—she grabbed his collar and yanked him toward her, and then his mouth was hungry against hers, kissing her so intensely she felt she might black out. Callum expertly untied the bows at her shoulders, and shivers ran through her as the chill mists of the meadow whispered deliciously against her skin.

“Please,” she rasped. He pulled her close as he straightened up, and his hardness pressed against her. The feel of it sent a knee-shaking twist of desire through her center.

“What should we do next, pretty Isobel?”

His teasing voice tickled at her ear, but she couldn’t form words—she could only kiss him again and again. He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a pile of blankets, laid her down on a bed of moss as he began to strip off his clothes. She knew the moment was close, that she was about to experience the exquisite agony of him inside her, that in just a few seconds—

—

“Tess! Thank god I found you. There’s a total crisis downstairs.”

Tess looked up from her Blood Feud paperback with a hardened stare. It was six p.m. on a Saturday night, and she wasn’t scheduled to work until eleven. She was availing herself of one of her favorite perks of employment at The Georgia Hotel in Williamsburg: a fantastic terrace pool and tiki bar with a view of the Manhattan skyline. Tess could hole up reading for hours, escaping her own mundane world to visit a mysterious island filled with romance and adventure, with absolutely no one to bother her.

Except for now, apparently.

“Can’t Taylor deal with it? I’m not working yet.” She nodded meaningfully toward her book, but Willie—a scrawny bellhop with very anxious energy—was undeterred.

“I talked to Taylor, but she’s already handling a whole thing with a wedding in the solarium where a bunch of bees got loose? So she said to come get you for Mrs. Harriman at the front desk.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Tess grumbled and pushed off her barstool. Elaine Harriman was one of the hotel’s most important guests—she frequently dropped by for last-minute stays in their rarely booked, dramatically overpriced penthouse suite—which explained why everyone was expected to put up with her every grievance, no matter how unreasonable. And in Tess’s experience, Mrs. Harriman’s complaints rarely adhered to anything that could be considered within the bounds of reason.

The Georgia was owned by a pair of eccentric lesbians and inspired by Georgia O’Keeffe; the lobby was decorated in desert hues of sage, rose, and terra-cotta, dotted with soft leather couches and vivid green cacti. A giant O’Keeffe print hung prominently near the entry, with their favorite O’Keeffe quote inlaid in a tile mosaic beneath it: “I have done nothing all summer but wait for myself to be myself again.”

Mrs. Harriman was standing at the blond wood front desk, dressed in an impeccable cream cashmere suit, her white hair coiffed and her face tomato red as she huffed out a stream of criticism at Mika, the front desk worker. Mika was dry and fun and always kept her cool with guests, but it was obvious that Mrs. Harriman was seriously trying her patience.

“Mrs. Harriman, such a pleasure to see you again. I’m Tess Rosenbloom, one of the managers here,” Tess interjected, to Mika’s visible relief.

“Really?” Mrs. Harriman peered at Tess. “You don’t look like you work here.”

Tess usually dressed for work in faded linen slacks and blazers to match the vibe (the staff had uniforms, but not the managers). But tonight, Tess was stopping by a Blood Feud–themed party before her shift, so she was wearing a silky black slip dress that clung to her size-sixteen curves, the low V-neck perfectly suited to show off her cleavage, and a floaty chiffon peignoir trimmed with delicate lace accents, mimicking Isobel’s outfit in the scene Tess had just been reading. (She’d been tempted to go for a full corseted gown for the affair, but even a party based on her all-time favorite novels couldn’t convince her to wear velvet in August.) Her wavy auburn hair fell in tumbles well past her shoulders, and she wore a fresh face and a bright red lip, accenting her round cheeks with dewy pink blush and her wide hazel eyes with shimmery shadow and dark mascara. Tess’s skin had always been pale, but never more so than the last three years working the night shift. Never seeing the sun wasn’t ideal for life, but it was kind of perfect for a vampire party.