Bulletproof Damsel - Amelia Hutchins Page 0,9

actual thing, and if you keep looking at me like that, you’ll ruin my reputation as a gentleman.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” I muttered.

Chapter Four

The room they gave us was lavish in décor. A crystal chandelier was the focal point, with high-backed chairs surrounding an opulent glass-top table. Beneath the glass, old Victorian-style pictures depicted ageless, beautiful women in risqué poses. It was like we’d stepped back in time.

I reached for the whiskey on the table and watched the glass shatter the moment I touched it. Some days the curse was seriously disheartening, like when facing off against an actual Van Helsing who continued to look at me as if I were something to devour or strangle but couldn’t decide which he wanted more.

“Give her a plastic cup,” Rhys grunted, watching the server lurch forward to clean the spilled mess of whiskey from the table. I started to stand, only to have the chair legs break, sending me careening to the floor.

I remained on the floor, groaning. I peered at the artwork on the ceiling that I hadn’t noticed before ending up flat on my back. Five royal houses, each one with a royal crest that bespoke of their symbol. Van Helsing had swords and a coat of armor. Mine had a potion with silver smoke rising from the vial.

The others had a wolf head, the symbol of infinity, and then one that had the symbol of change for the breeds who continued to grow through the world’s evolution and changes. I knew them well, taught to see them on houses to avoid like the plague since before I could even remember.

A dark shadow moved into view, and my gaze slid to the dark blue eyes peering down at me as a sinful smile tipped the corners of Rhys’s lips. He was apparently finding great amusement at my curse.

“Bad luck, woman,” he said thickly, watching me as I struggled to get off the floor. I placed my hand on his masterpiece of a table which cracked and spider-webbed under my touch. “Stop touching things.”

“Like you said, bad luck. Sorry,” I returned icily, glaring daggers at him, which only made his lips twitch, still amused. Reaching up to my neck, I touched the straps of my shirt and then winced as it broke, catching the top before he ended up with a full inventory of my goods.

He’d confiscated my cloak and deposed me of all my silver. That included the necklaces and charms that helped to counteract the curse somewhat. Now I was using said curse against him, and judging by the twinkle in his eye, he was fully aware of what I was doing. I smirked, wrinkling my nose, holding my shirt together, surprised when he lifted me off the ground without warning.

“You really like to touch people, don’t you?”

“Indeed.”

I placed my hands around his neck to steady myself, causing my shirt to drop down the front, leaving my breasts revealed. I slammed against him with wide, horrified eyes as he peered between us, finding way too much cleavage on display for polite conversation.

“That’s unfortunate,” he chuckled darkly, lifting his pretty hypnotic eyes to hold mine. He sat on the chair beside the heap of ruins where I’d been sitting, allowing me to continue pressing against him awkwardly. “Jamyn, can you please fetch our guest a new shirt? There should be some behind the bar,” he mused.

“Do you often have women losing their shirts in your bar?” I asked pointedly, a little ire etching my tone.

“You’d be surprised at how many women throw caution to the wind in my bar. Sometimes people need a place to let loose and not worry about being judged for doing so. I provide them a safe place to do that with the promise of sanctuary throughout that time.”

“And if I asked for sanctuary?” I whispered huskily, unable to ignore the heat rushing through me as his fingers slowly stroked my naked shoulder.

“Silversmiths are not given sanctuary inside Van Helsing safe houses, Remi. We’re enemies and have been for a very long time. The only way you’d be eligible for sanctuary, was if you worked for me.”

“How about other creatures?” I asked, leaning closer to inhale his scent that tingled in my nose, dancing like a drug through my senses.

“They’d be freely given sanctuary.”

“Nyx, ask for sanctuary,” I murmured before my mouth opened, and my tongue traced over the pulse in his neck.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just here watching the show. If it ends with sanctuary, I’d

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