“Okay.” Sean had gotten it right, for once. “So what about my cousin? You said those females were your packmates too, right?”
“Yes. They are.” Eric frowned.
“Diana’s marked Sean as hers,” Dom answered. “Which technically makes him ‘ours’ as well,” he said to Eric before turning to Vicki again. “Diana, and maybe Kate, seem fascinated by your cousin. So I don’t see him leaving anytime soon.”
“You don’t seem to understand that he and I have a business to run.”
“Oh?” Eric’s low growl should have threatened her. Instead, it made her wet.
“Look, it’s not that I didn’t like what we did yesterday.” She flushed, trying to concede them something. “But kidnapping me and just, well, taking me away from my life, that’s not legal.”
“It is where we come from.” Dom raised a brow, as if questioning her right to refuse them.
Damn it, blondie’s turning me on too. “Well, you’re in Cross Step, now, wolf-boy. While I’m not fan of the Salinas, even they don’t allow human kidnappings.”
“Wolf-boy?” Dom said as he and Eric exchanged glances. “Tell you what, Foxy, why don’t you accept that you don’t have a decision in this one and sit it out? Once Prime decides what to do with you, we’ll let you know more.”
“Prime, my ass.” She shot to her feet and glared at both males. Angry energy swelled inside her, and she took pleasure in watching both men tense. “Yeah, you feel that don’t you?” She slammed a hand on the table and cracked the solid wood. “I’m giving you one damn hour to figure out the nicest way possible to say I’m sorry. Then I’m taking my cousin and we’re getting the hell out of here.”
Vicki stormed out of the study and followed the heavenly scent of vanilla toward the kitchen, a professional chef’s wet dream. Once there, she ignored a wary Malcolm and focused on another Ravager standing near a bowl of batter. “You, at the griddle.”
“Yeah?” The large Ravager with the raspy voice cocked an eyebrow, waiting. That he didn’t project any of the hostility or aggression she’d sensed in the other males eased some of her tension, as did his tussled hair and sloppy dress. His wrinkled t-shirt and ripped jeans didn’t shout “enforcer” so much as “slacker.”
“Gimme a stack.” She’d save the please for people who deserved it. In her limited experience, Ravagers didn’t rate manners.
“Better do it, Rule. Woman’s got a mean right hook.” Malcolm surprised her with a wink and a grin before leaving.
“Pancakes, coming up.” Rule turned back to the stove, and Vicki took a deep breath, wondering how she planned to make good on her large gestures of defiance. Because if she really wanted to leave, and she did, how did she think she could power through a compound full of Ravagers, even with Sean’s sorry help?
Twenty minutes later, she didn’t much care. She felt too full to do more than digest her food. A glance at her companion showed him in no hurry to push away from the table.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” she asked.
He grunted and shoveled another hunk of food into his mouth. A few Ravagers had come and gone through the kitchen while she’d been eating, but none stayed longer than to get a good look at her. Rule hadn’t acknowledged any of them either.
A glance around her showed that the kitchen had more than enough space to feed two dozen comfortably. She and Rule sat at a smaller table in a nook overlooking the backyard—a vast field to the south of the house. The rolling splendor of Kansas had changed little from the pictures her great-grandmother liked to whip out at Monday night dinner. Sprawling fields under a baby blue sky littered with cottony white clouds—
Shit. Monday dinner.
She looked around for a phone and saw nothing.
“Need something?” Rule asked in more of a growl than a human voice.
“Yeah, a phone.” She dared him to deny her.
He shrugged. “No need for one out here.”
“Why not? You don’t have emergencies out here in the country?” They couldn’t be more than an hour outside the city limits. Cross Step just wasn’t that big.
“Prime can contact anyone he needs to.”
“What, is he psychic?”
Rule ignored her and ate some more.
“Is he?” She genuinely wanted to know. It just figured she’d be taken in by the Voiders she knew the least about. Her parents had always cautioned her to keep a wary eye on Valks and Vulcani, both races of outsiders that could kill with little effort. The Ravagers mostly kept to themselves, or so she’d thought. They seemed to be pretty particular about whom they accepted into the fold.
Lucky her.
“No.” Rule sighed and leaned back.
“No what?” she murmured, astonished that he’d polished off a dozen thick pancakes. “You eating for two?”
“No, he’s not psychic. And I’m not eating for two. We have a high metabolism.” He grinned, making him look almost appealing, despite his slovenly ways. Then again, she’d yet to meet an unattractive Ravager. Something about that wildness called to every woman seeking a bad boy, she supposed. And that’s the last thing I need.
“I didn’t see any other Ravagers in here eating breakfast.”
He shrugged. “Guess Prime doesn’t want ‘em looking at you.”
“So what makes you so special?”
“I’m the cook,” he announced, as if that explained everything.
“Congratulations, Shaggy. I need a phone.”
“Hey, you need more pancakes, a steak, chicken cordon bleu, I’m your man. Other than that, I can’t help you.” And with that, Rule stood and returned to the stove.
Chapter Thirteen
Vicki watched as Rule started cleaning up. Then something caught her eye.
“Hey, that’s the newest range on the market. I thought those were inaccessible to Cross Step.”
Rule didn’t answer.
She took a harder look around the kitchen. To her astonishment, though the kitchen had high end appliances, they were also state-of-the art. Two large shurewaves, which had recently replaced the microwave, sat on either side of the main wall over wide countertops and large cabinets. Between them lay a funky copper hood above an expansive griddle and eight-range gas cooktop. The white counters looked pristine, without a stain to smudge them. On closer inspection, they were the new granite/white-steel amalgam that sold for a thousand dollars a square foot. Two walk-in refrigerators, as well as two walk-in freezers, lined the opposite wall across from the massive kitchen island complete with large stools.
“My mother would kill for this kitchen.” And the underground contacts that allowed Ravagers access to equipment outside of Cross Step.
Rule smiled. “It’s home.”
“But for all your gadgets, no televisions, computers or phones.”
“Like I said, no need for ‘em. This is Savage land. Our den. We keep outsiders out.”
She still didn’t understand, but Rule turned to the sink and ignored her.
Frustrated, she went in search of Sean. Vicki stepped one foot outside the kitchen and stopped. In what looked the size of a ball room but functioned as a dining hall sat forty or more Ravagers eating in silence. None of them uttered a word when she entered. All eyes, however, centered on her.