Page 27 of Don't Bite the Botanist
“No thanks. I already ate.”
“Cute.”
“So the ladies tell me.”
Tressa reached down to the black mini-cooler that Baylin kept hidden under his desk and pulled a can out. “Have another energy drink, why don’t you?”
He held a hand out without shifting his attention from the computer, and she slapped the can into his palm before striding toward the door.
“So what’s your plan?” he called after her.
Tressa stopped and glanced back at her cousin who was still mostly absorbed in whatever chat screen he’d pulled up. “Well, first I need to get my mate some food,” she answered. “After that… I might have an idea. Heck, it worked on Cora, maybe it’ll work on Ethan.”
“Cora knew about us, though,” he replied absently.
“Details,” Tressa tossed over her shoulder as she raced off down the hall toward the kitchen.
Step one was grabbing a plate full of their chef’s buttery croissants to bribe his stomach.
And if that worked, she’d move on to step two—showing him the compound’s massive garden in hopes she could bribe his heart as well.
Chapter fourteen
Ethan
Ethan stepped out from under the warm spray of water and reached for his fogged over glasses. Normally he showered so fast they didn’t have time for condensation to build up, but after his… encounter with Tressa, he’d needed a few extra minutes under the water. No matter how ashamed he’d been about his unconscious advances, he couldn’t deny his body wanted her.
And his heart was starting to catch up. Thankfully, his brain had always been the one in charge of decision making, and any romantic entanglements were on pause until after the vamp was pushing up daisies. Then he would be more than willing to spend all night fucking Tressa’s brains out. Provided she still wanted him, of course. It wasn’t like he had anything to offer a goddess like her, what with currently being homeless and jobless.
He stared into the mirror for a minute and evaluated his new physique. His hair was in serious need of a trim. The strands he could usually control with a swipe of gel now hung down like a curtain over his face. It had gotten to the point that he had to either tuck them behind his ears or walk around half blind. Not to mention his normalchin scruff had grown to full on beard status. But facial hair aside, his biggest concern was the new sharp angle to his cheeks and taper to his waist. He’d worked his ass off to fill out his frame with enough muscle to ensure his lab job wouldn’t turn him into a scrawny nerd, but alas, his lot in life seemed to find him anyway.
Well, maybe scrawny wasn’t the right word. He shifted side to side, running his hands down his broad shoulders and the chest muscles that were now more lean than bulky. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. When he hit thirty a couple years back, he’d started to question just why he spent so many nights at the gym to maintain the sculpted look. He hadn’t been on a date in over a year, so really, who cared if he was ripped or not as long as he was healthy. And Tressa hadn’t exactly seemed like she was repulsed by his physical appearance, so maybe…
Shaking his head, he grabbed the only towel hanging on the rack—a fluffy pink one—and wrapped it around his waist. He was starting to feel like a kid who just went through puberty and now wanted to do nothing but stare at his new body.
Stepping back into the bedroom, he paused his adolescent musings.
Well, shit.
He’d likely been sporting nothing but the highest hospital gown fashion when Tressa brought him to this place which meant… Yup. He had exactly nothing to wear. A quick glance around showed him the starchy garment was nowhere to be found, and even the black shorts he’d left on the floor had been whisked off to who knows where.
Great. He upgraded from a hospital gown to a pink towel. A surprisingly large towel that hung well past his knees, but a towel nonetheless. Not exactly conducive to tracking down a vampire.
Although, if this really was a compound filled with hunters, one of them had to be a guy who was roughly Ethan’s size. He was a littletaller than the average male at just over six feet, but he’d wear cut off jean shorts if it meant he could burn that disgusting hospital gown.
Seeing as he had no desire to wander the compound half naked looking for Tressa, he strolled around the room, taking in the unique art pieces that adorned the walls. The space had a whole cozy vibe going on with mahogany furniture and a pair of plush beige recliners, but it was the explosions of color everywhere that turned the room from boring to exciting. The paintings varied in style from expressionism to watercolor, and they were all landscapes from around the world, most of which Ethan didn’t immediately recognize. One in particular, though, drew him in, and he stepped closer to analyze it.
“I painted that,” Tressa said, and Ethan leapt back so fast his towel slipped off his hips in the process.
“Fuck!” he screamed, and not a manly scream either. It was a ‘seven-year-old girl who just saw a spider’ type of high-pitched scream he would give anything to take back.
Snatching the towel off the floor with lightning reflexes he didn’t know he was capable of, he whipped around to take in Tressa’s smirking face. The multiple sudden movements left him more than a little woozy, but he wasn’t about to dump fertilizer on the invasive weeds of his embarrassment by leaning against the wall for support. Instead, he carefully secured the pink towel around his waist again, his toes gripping the plush carpet tightly.
“Oh, no need to get dressed on my account,” she said with eyes that sparkled in the light. “The others might prefer you in pants, but I’m more… flexible.”
Ethan’s face heated, but he wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d had his fair share of women hit on him before, though none had the ability to tie his tongue like the one standing before him.
The one holding a tray of croissants and orange juice.
