Ambidextrous
…þá gerðist honum svefnhöfugt, ok lagðist hann till svefns. En er hann hafði lítt sofnat, kallaði hann ok sagði, at mara trað hann. Menn hans fóru til ok vildu hjálpa honum; en er Þeir tóku uppi til höfuðsins, þá trað hon fótleggina, svá at nær brotnuðu; þá tóku þeir til fótanna, þá kafði hon höfuðit, svá at Þar dó hann…
…He then became very drowsy, and laid himself down to sleep; but when he had slept but a little while he cried out, saying the Mara was treading upon him. His men hastened to him to help him; but when they took hold of his head she trod on his legs, and when they laid hold of his legs she pressed upon his head; and it was his death…
Valandi, King of Uppsala ~ From the Ynglinga saga
It felt surreal. Sitting in the passenger seat of Keif’s sexy car, Reyna couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she was going to work. Merely two hours ago, she’d been standing in subzero temperatures, listening to Boreas—the freaking North Wind—turn her world inside out, and now the sun was shining.
Downtown Minneapolis was its typical, bustling metropolis of skyscrapers and art sculptures, filled with businessmen and women all blissfully unaware of the deadly, ancient world thriving right under their noses.
The question of the day was: In which world did Reyna belong?
Smoky black lines entered her periphery, drawing her from her thoughts. Blinking, she was surprised to see they were already under the valet cover outside Sterling Suites. Hot fingers caressed the outer edge of her eye, shifting platinum curls. She looked at the most seductive example of sheer masculine beauty and tried to offer him a smile, but as always, Corbyn saw right through her.
“Star for your thoughts?” he teased with a wicked tilt to his mouth.
Reyna gave him a mild smirk. “You’ve already used up all of your stars, Mr. Bruschard.”
“I can get more,” he countered.
The challenge in his eyes warned her that it was yet another battle she couldn’t possibly hope to win.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered, giving up all pretense of strength and humor.
Pulling their linked hands to his mouth, Corbyn placed a hot kiss on the side of her palm.
“You’re a lot braver than you give yourself credit for, falleg,” he said. “I should know. It’s usually aimed at me.”
Unable to fight a smile, Reyna wasn’t surprised when he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her across the car to seduce her with a tender kiss backed by a whole lot of carnal promise. If anything, she’d been anticipating it and was too quickly growing addicted to its blatant potency.
“Mmm, you look like a fat cat beside an empty bowl of cream again, Miss Daniels,” he observed, conjuring memories of their much naughtier escapades during a most unusual morning.
“Do I?” She gave him a sultry look. “I have no idea why.”
“I could give you a play-by-play,” he offered.
“Perv.”
“Established.”
Reyna chuckled. “Go to work, Mr. Bruschard.”
“If I must.” He sighed. “Do something with me tonight.”
“Something?” she flirted.
His mouth curved. “That, too, but I meant something outside the bedroom.”
“Like what?” she asked.
Reyna was secretly thrilled he wanted to. After the night and morning they’d shared, it was difficult to imagine going back to sleeping alone in her hotel room.
“I don’t know yet,” Corbyn confessed. “How about we both think on it, and we can text ideas back and forth?”
“Uh…”
“Not when you’re busy, of course,” he amended.
“Okay.” She smiled.
“Good, now kiss me again,” he ordered. Reyna didn’t hesitate to meet him halfway across the center console. “Mmm. You can do this, Valkyrie.”
“Okay.” She exhaled.
Her lips burned exquisitely from his hungry tasting, while her chest filled with gratitude for his vote of confidence.
Corbyn smiled against her mouth, then gave her one final kiss. “Be safe,” he said firmly, when she reached for the door handle. “I mean it.”
Reyna gave him a ‘yes, daddy’ look over her shoulder while climbing out of the car but wasn’t disappointed when he waited until she got inside before driving off. Her smile was stupidly giddy when she dashed up to her hotel room. There was just enough time for her to deposit her bags, then race back downstairs for the staff meeting.
When she spied Jenn waiting for her in the hallway leading to the conference room, Reyna nearly faltered.
“I smuggled a strawberry muffin for you,” Jenn greeted, handing her the crumble-topped breakfast as they both fell into a brisk stride.
Reyna felt so awkward being near her, knowing what she was now, even though it was equally difficult to think of her as anything other than just Jenn.
“Thanks.” She forced a smile.
“And you have two messages,” Jenn continued around her mostly eaten blueberry muffin. “One from Pat, though I tried to discourage her. Mr. Hattley doesn’t know. The other was from Kendal Nolan, who sounds just as hot over the phone as he looks in person.”
“He’s just a chef,” Reyna blurted defensively, panic gripping her.
Was Jenn trying to insinuate that she was getting involved with Kendal? Was that part of her deal? Reyna quickly reminded herself that Corbyn had claimed that Jenn was one of the better Succubi. One that only fed off natural cheaters. Forcing herself to calm down, she gave her coworker an apologetic look.
“No, he’s Corbyn’s cousin. It’s probably about family stuff, sorry.”
“Duh.” Jenn chuckled, waving her hand dismissively. “They’re all related somehow. I’m not going to tell Mr. Hattley you got a personal call at the office, Rey. It’s okay.”
Reyna gave her a small smile of feigned gratitude and sighed internally. She could almost be angry with Corbyn for telling her that her favorite coworker was a Succubus, but she knew that wouldn’t last. In the long run, she’d be happier knowing.
After the meeting, Reyna used her free time to return messages while waiting for Mr. Hattley in the lobby. She was already counting the minutes until she was with Corbyn again and could breathe without worrying about keeping up appearances. And that was a complete one-eighty from her thoughts and feelings Sunday morning when being in the man’s presence felt too suffocating and overwhelming. It was funny what all could change in just two days.
Luckily, Pat’s crisis turned out to be an easy fix, so there was no need to involve their boss. Afterward, she called Kendal back and hoped he wasn’t too upset over her and Corbyn’s abrupt departure from his restaurant the night before.
“This is Kendal,” he answered.
Again, she was surprised to get a direct connection when she hadn’t been expecting one. “Ah, hi, Kendal, it’s Reyna.”
“Reyna, hey.” His voice instantly perked up.
“Hi,” she repeated. “You called?”
“Yes,” he replied, and she could hear the hesitance in his tone. “Look, I hope this doesn’t seem too invasive. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m kind of at a loss. I’ve never seen my cousin like that before, and he won’t return my calls. Did I say or do something to offend you in some way?”
“What? No, Kendal. God, no.” She replied, feeling guilty that Kendal thought it had been something he’d done. “I’m so sorry you thought that. We were just having a moment, that’s all, but everything’s okay now.”
“Are you sure?” he asked skeptically. “I can’t help feeling like I’ve crossed a line somewhere because every time we’re together…”
Reyna rubbed her forehead. “Yes, I’m sure. Trust me. It’s all my and Corbyn’s issues. You haven’t done anything to offend anyone.”
“Okay.” Kendal sighed in relief. “You don’t have to mention this to my cousin, like ever.”
“Really? Because I have half a mind to kick his ass for it,” she said.
Kendal choked out a laugh. “On second thought, I think I’d pay to see that.”
Reyna just laughed and shook her head.
“If it goes down, I want to see the video,” he continued. “But I won’t keep you any longer, falleg. I just wanted to make sure we’re okay.”
“We’re okay.”
“So, next time, you’ll eat something before you run out the door screaming?” he teased.
“I promise.” She laughed.
“Awesome,” he said. “Au revoir.”
Reyna quickly checked the empty lobby for any signs of her boss, then opened a new text message to Corbyn.
Sometime today, Mr. Bruschard, it might be nice for you to call your cousin and apologize to him for being such an ass.
After hitting send, she quickly typed out another.
PS: My boss is due in the room any second, so DO NOT call me.
When her phone vibrated several seconds later, she didn’t know whether to smile or pray
Name-calling, Miss Daniels? I’m even less of an ass than I am of a brat. I have several cousins. Can you be a little more specific? PS: All-caps is NOT a deterrent. You’re lucky I’m in a meeting.
She glanced at the clock and frowned. It was only 9:13 AM.
To be specific: Kendal. Who may be under the impression that he’s done something wrong. Sorry to interrupt your meeting. You said it wasn’t until 10. PS: We’ll debate the rest later.
“Ready?”
Reyna stood when Mr. Hattley walked into the lobby.
“Ready.” She smiled, falling into step beside him. “We have four places to look at today, a lunch meeting with Mrs. Copeland’s son-in-law, Alfred Owens, at one o’clock, a phone conference with the Cincinnati office at three-fifteen, and you have a hair appointment at four.”
“What happened with the caterer in Chicago?” he asked, pushing the front doors open to reveal their waiting car.
Reyna paled slightly and wondered if it was his usual intuitiveness or if a little blond birdie had told him about the message, after all.
“They canceled last minute. I gave Pat the number for Maggie’s emergency backup staff. It’s all fixed,” she answered.
He paused to look at her with displeasure while the driver opened the door for them.
“Good,” he responded, unbuttoning his suit jacket to climb into the car. “Don’t do it again.”
“Mr. Hattley—” she began, climbing into the car after him.
“Reyna, if Pat can’t run Chicago without you, I’ll have to find someone who can. It’s that simple,” he cut her off. “Minneapolis needs to be your sole focus now.”
Reyna swallowed her protests and the jolt of glee that he still remembered her actual name.
“Yes, sir, it won’t happen again.” She nodded.
“Excellent. Where are we meeting Steve first?”
Reyna rattled off the first address on the list their real estate agent had emailed her, and the driver pulled out into traffic. Though she’d felt her phone vibrate a few times, as soon as she saw they were all from Corbyn, she decided to wait until Mr. Hattley was busy with Steve at their first location before checking them.
The first message was merely a reply to her last.
Am I to understand that my cousin called you to complain when he couldn’t get a hold of me? Explain in detail. And the only thing we’ll be debating tonight is whether I use my left hand or my right. I’m ambidextrous, so the choice is yours.
Reyna’s face flushed hotly, and she immediately glanced at the two men across the room as if they could hear Corbyn’s text. Lust mingled with defiance because she wasn’t sure if he was promising a hot replay of the night before or threatening to spank her. The following two messages had all the lust flying right out the window.
A more prompt reply would be appreciated, Reyna, since you’re the one who started this conversation.
And lastly:
Now. Or I will do more than just call you!
Reyna quickly hit reply.
PROZAC, Mr. Bruschard! Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of not having anyone to answer to. Kendal was just worried about both of us. What harm would it cause to call him and figure it out? I’m not your mediator. And as far as you being ambidextrous, that should come in real handy (pun intended) when you’re debating with yourself.
The second Reyna hit send, she regretted it. Panic seized her, worse than what she’d already been feeling. He was going to track her down and not only embarrass her but probably find some way to follow through with his threat about extending her vacation. Why had she pushed send?
“What do you think, Reyna?” Mr. Hattley asked, jerking her out of her mental breakdown.
“Ah, it’s… nice,” she answered, looking around. “A little smaller than the ones we looked at yesterday, though, and the location could be better.”
“Hmm, yes,” he replied thoughtfully. “Okay, onto the next one, Steve.”
Oh, God, why wasn’t Corbyn responding? Reyna followed the two men out of the building, her eyes roaming the area for any sign of him. She couldn’t believe they were already fighting again after everything they’d shared. The ache in her chest was growing severe, making it hard to breathe.
“Where to, Reyna?” Mr. Hattley prompted after they resettled in the car.
Damn it, Reyna needed to focus. After giving the driver the next listed address, she tried to divert her thoughts, but it was a lost cause.
Maybe, she should text Corbyn and apologize. No. No way. His inability to keep his damn temper in check was the problem, not her. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
By the time they left the third location, Reyna’s paranoid panic had morphed into fear of a different kind. The kind that made her chest hurt. She’d pissed Corbyn off so bad that he’d not only lost the desire to track her down but to talk to her at all. What if he’d decided that the constant arguing wasn’t worth it? That marking her had been a mistake, and no matter how much he claimed to be trying, he just couldn’t tolerate being questioned or defied?
Reyna hated those thoughts but couldn’t stop them from circling her mind. She wasn’t going to pretend to be something she wasn’t. Either Corbyn liked her for who she was or not at all. It was that simple. Wasn’t it?
The truth was that they didn’t know each other. Not really. Yet, they were already so deep into whatever the hell was between them that neither of them could think straight. Maybe, Corbyn was just absorbing again. Reyna took a deep breath as they walked out of the office space.
“Well?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Hattley,” she answered. “I think I liked the second office we looked at yesterday better.”
He smiled. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted. “But we only have one more, so let’s have a look. Then, if we’re still in agreement, we’ll see if Steve can get us in for a second peek at yesterday’s choice to make sure.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“You’ve been quiet today, Reyna. Is everything all right?” he asked once they were in the car again.
“Yes,” she answered, forcing a smile. “Just getting nervous about the move.”
And the fact that you’re some kind of dangerous, supernatural being.
It was still so hard to imagine.
“Ah, yes, that’s understandable,” he accepted, relaxing.
Thank God. The last thing she wanted was for her boss to take an interest in her love life. If she even had one left. This time, she gave the final address to the driver without needing a reminder, but it had her and Mr. Hattley looking at each other with raised brows.
“Ninth?” Reyna questioned out loud. “Why didn’t we just start there?”
“Perhaps Steve was saving the best for last.” He smiled.
Driving toward Ninth, they had to pass the opposite end of Seventh from where Sterling Suites stood. Reyna liked the park areas on that end of the city with their shade trees and bright pink flowers bordering lush green lawns. A lot of people were taking advantage of them in the beautiful weather. The architecture was also a bit more interesting. Leaning into her window, she checked out a trio of uniquely designed skyscrapers and blinked when she saw the word SLADE mounted over the door of an all-glass tower that reflected everything, appearing blue from the warm sky.
“Holy shit, that’s a big building,” she muttered.
“What’s that?” Mr. Hattley asked.
“Uh, nothing, just admiring the architecture,” she said quickly.
Reyna tried to imagine Corbyn up in his tower, the master peering down over his domain, answering to no one. Was that the building he was planning to shut down just to help her move? The question only reminded her that he wasn’t talking to her. The more time that passed, the less important it seemed who was right or wrong, and the more she just wanted to text him to apologize.
Whoa, wait, what was that? Reyna’s vision snagged on the storefront names they passed, and the further down Ninth they went, the more excited she became.
“Hell’s Kitchen? The Melting Pot?” She grinned at Mr. Hattley.
“I see this.” He reciprocated. “Oh, I think we’re here.”
Reyna eyed the water-stained building with Vendor Space Available printed on the awning as the driver turned down the side road to the parking garage.
After they made the walk back to Ninth, Reyna slowly walked the length of the sidewalk to get a better look at the whole thing. The building’s façade left a little to be desired. It also faced a taller, brick parking garage across the street, leaving it cast in constant shadow and without a view. But there would be infinite value in opening a party planning business on the same road as so many popular restaurants.
When she noticed the corner space was available, Reyna nearly clapped for joy. She inched out into the double crosswalk just a step down from the curb and studied it from that on-coming angle. It was easy to imagine how they could grab the attention of both traffic and pedestrians coming down Ninth and the intersecting road, LaSalle.
Her phone suddenly vibrated in her hand, chirping an alarming sound, and she nearly dropped it as she tried to answer.
“Hello, hello?”
“Reyna Daniels, get your beautiful ass out of the street right now!”
With her heart in her throat, she gasped and looked all around. She was in the road, sure, but not in the line of traffic. Yet, Corbyn’s panic triggered hers, and she leaped back onto the curb.
“Is that better, stalker?” she snapped breathlessly.
“Much,” he replied, still edgy but relieved. A pregnant silence hung on the line between them before he continued in a whisper. “Falleg mín…”
The emotions gripped her. Corbyn was on the phone, talking to her. Reyna covered her mouth and tried to battle them down again.
“Don’t cry, baby,” he pleaded. “I’m already dying up here looking at you.”
She looked up and thought she saw the silhouette of someone standing in the skyway over LaSalle, but the sun glaring off the glass was too bright for her to know for sure.
“You never responded,” she whispered, fighting the tears back.
“Reyna.” Mr. Hattley waved at her. “We’re going inside.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there,” she called back after covering the phone, then returned her attention to Corbyn. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize, Reyna. You’re working,” he said. “I didn’t know how to respond. I was angry—mostly at myself—and I was afraid of saying the wrong thing.”
“Are you still angry?” she asked.
“Only if you plan on following through with your threat,” he growled mildly.
“What threat?”
“The one where you mentioned me debating with myself,” he explained darkly.
Reyna’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, God, Corbyn, that was a metaphor for—”
“I know what it was a metaphor for, dirty girl.” He chuckled in exasperation. She could almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “You said you would be with me tonight.”
She stared at the glare that may or may not be Corbyn and worried her bottom lip. “You threatened to show up while I was working. I panicked because I believed you, so I threatened to make you keep your hands to yourself, Corbyn. I never said anything about not spending time with you.”
“Could you, Reyna?” he asked. “Spend time with me and keep your hands to yourself?”
“I… maybe,” she answered.
Liar.
Corbyn chuckled seductively in her ear. “Mmm, I love how your neck and cheeks get all red when you’re trying not to be naughty. I want every inch of me all over every inch of you right now, and I can’t even touch you.”
“Corbyn, I can’t talk about this right now,” she hissed when she saw her boss and Steve checking through the windows of the corner office space.
“I know.” He sighed. “I may not have to answer to anyone, per se, Reyna, but I do enjoy staying in business. You made valid points, even if it was with a very smart mouth.”
She blushed again when his tone dipped into a seductive purr on the latter. “Are you done, Mr. Bruschard?”
“Almost,” he said. “Tell him you’re talking to me about the security system proposal. I’ll be more than happy to have my crew take a look and make a bid once he’s found office space. I already have two systems I’ll be pushing for very hard since they’ll be keeping someone I value safe while she works.”
“Seriously?” Reyna asked.
“Yes, elska,” he answered. “I never kid about the safety of those who matter to me. Speaking of which, I do believe I told you to be safe today, yet I find you playing in traffic?”
“Shush, I was not, and that wasn’t what I meant. You’re seriously already on the books to be our security company?”
“Yes,” Corbyn replied hesitantly. “Birmingham called me about an hour after I dropped you off this morning. He asked me—”
“No, I’m glad,” she said quickly, cutting him off.
“You are?”
“Yes, Corbyn.” Reyna chuckled. “Who in the world would I trust more? Okay, give me the names of the systems in case he asks.”
“You’re lucky you’re out of reach,” he said softly. “The CPI-Elite or the IPS-Two-X. Both systems feature two secondary alarms and no delay for their ghost fallbacks. Since the break-in at Maddy’s, we’ve upgraded every system and modified them with signal scramblers to ensure they can’t be jammed or replicated. They also offer direct notification to multiple devices of your choosing and, of course, our twenty-four-hour monitoring service.”
“Of course,” she muttered, trying to commit all those details to memory. “What do CPI and IPS stand for? ‘Can’t Pronounce It’ and ‘It’s Probably Safe?’”
Corbyn laughed wholeheartedly, and Reyna thought she could hear it from the skyway.
“Shayd’s right. You do have a devil’s tongue,” he said through his laughter. “They stand for Complete Professional Interface and Integrated Professional Security. Now, more importantly, have lunch with me. I want to kiss that clever mouth of yours.”
“I can’t. We have a lunch meeting with a new client,” she answered regretfully. “But I should be free around four.”
“Okay,” he answered. “I’ll pick you up around four-thirty, and we’ll figure out the details from there.”
“Okay,” she accepted.
“Thank you, Reyna,” Corbyn said so sincerely it caught her off guard.
“For what?”
“Being who you are,” he answered. “I’ll see you at four-thirty, falleg. And stay out of the damn street.”
“Yes, Mr. Bossy,” she mouthed toward the skyway with a mock salute because he’d already disconnected.
The man always had to have the last word. But, oh, how sweet those words could be, sometimes.
