“Talking to yourself, Bricker?”

Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he scowled at Dante as the man passed with several jumbo bags of chips and a six-­pack of cola in hand. Scowling, Justin said, “It’s more useful than talking to members of the fairer sex.”

“Don’t let Gia hear you say that. She’ll kick your ass,” Dante warned before disappearing into the living room.

“Too late,” Justin muttered, turning toward the kitchen. “Life has already kicked my ass, and has left precious little for her to have at.”

“Trouble?” Tomasso asked as Justin pushed into the kitchen.

Justin glanced to the big guy, noting that he was folding a dish towel and setting it on the counter. The twins had helped Gia clean, obviously, or perhaps even done it all themselves. He wouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t like she had eaten anything. The pair probably would have felt bad to make her do the cleaning up when they’d eaten every last scrap of food he’d made.

“I gather you overheard what I said to your brother?” Justin asked finally, carrying his sandwich over to put it in the refrigerator for later . . . when he’d regained his appetite.

Tomasso grunted in the affirmative and Justin closed the fridge door with a sigh. “Holly has known her husband all her life. They were childhood friends and sweethearts. She isn’t likely to throw him over for me. She hardly knows me.”

“Then maybe she needs to,” Tomasso said mildly as he moved to open the cupboard and began to retrieve the rest of the jumbo-­sized bags of chips inside.

Justin watched him, but his mind was on what he’d said. “You think I should continue to woo her? Let her get to know me? You think she might choose me then?”

“Only one way to find out,” Tomasso said with a shrug. Chips stacked in one beefy arm, he reached into the refrigerator with his free hand and retrieved a six-­pack of soda. “What have you got to lose?”

“Right,” Justin murmured thoughtfully, and then noted what the man had in his arms and said, “Dante already took out chips and pop.”

“Those were for him.” Tomasso moved to the door to the hall. As he pushed through, he added, “These are for me.”

“Oh,” Justin said as he watched the door swing closed. Shaking his head, he turned back toward the table, muttering, “We’re going to need to go shopping again.”

He started to sit down at the table, but then paused and moved to the drawer beside the refrigerator to retrieve one of the notepads and pens Jackie kept there. She kept them there for making grocery lists. He wanted it for another list entirely. He was going to make up a list of ways to woo Holly.

Dropping to sit at the kitchen table, he opened the notebook to the first page and wrote, “Battle Strategy.” He then sat back and smiled at what he’d written . . . because this was war. He was fighting for his life mate, and perhaps even his very life . . . and in the battle of the sexes, he was king. There wasn’t a woman he had wanted that he hadn’t been able to win, and he wanted Holly.

Ten

“Think sex.”

“What?” Holly gaped at the trio in front of her. It was Saturday morning after the fish debacle. After Justin had left her room, Holly had laid down to rest rather than risk running into him again for a bit, and she’d slept through what little had been left of the night. Now it was morning, they’d all had breakfast and Justin, Dante, and Tomasso had all decided it was time to move ahead with her lessons on how to be an immortal. Apparently, it wasn’t a natural thing. One didn’t become immortal and simply automatically know how to do everything they needed to know how to do. She’d thought they were ridiculous when they’d said that, until they’d asked her to “get” her fangs out.

She’d laughed at the comment. The way they said it made it sound as if she had them in her pocket. But she’d stopped laughing when they’d insisted and she’d tried, only to realize she hadn’t a clue how to “get” them out. Thinking, “Come on, fangs. Pop out of my mouth . . . please . . . pretty please.” Hadn’t worked at all. Now they were giving her suggestions.

“Think sex,” Tomasso repeated completely straight-­faced.

“Like the smell of blood when you’re hungry, sexual excitement can bring on your fangs,” Justin explained quietly.

“Oh,” she said weakly.

“It’s all right,” Dante said quietly. “Just close your eyes and imagine you and your husband in bed.”

Holly blushed furiously at the suggestion, and then shook her head. “I’m not sitting here thinking of sex with the three of you all standing there grinning at me like a bunch of perverts.”

Actually, Justin wasn’t grinning at the suggestion, she noticed. If anything, he looked strained, but she didn’t take back her words.

Dante nodded as if he’d expected as much and then turned to Bricker. “Kiss her.”

“What?” They both squawked that word together.

“Kiss her,” Dante insisted. “She has to learn to control her fangs. Especially how to put them away.”

“Dante is right,” Gia said from the kitchen door. She’d been up most of the night after the fish incident and apparently was just now rising. Letting the kitchen door close, she moved to join them at the table and pointed out, “Bringing out her fangs is important, but being able to make them recede again is more important. She has to know how to put them away in case they come out of their own volition while she is among mortals. You wouldn’t want her standing in a grocery store or a restaurant with her fangs out and not be able to force them away.”

“Exactly,” Dante said with satisfaction. “Kiss her.”

Holly frowned, but then so did Justin. He also glanced to her uncertainly and seeing her expression, shook his head unhappily. “I don’t think—­”

“Then I will,” Dante announced and stepped forward.

“The hell you will!” Justin protested, grabbing his arm and hauling him back.

“Then kiss her,” Dante growled. “Bring on her passion and her fangs.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not really necessary,” Holly began to babble at once when Justin turned grimly toward her. Beginning to back away, she added quickly, “I mean, no offense, but I’m sure he can’t bring on my passion. I’m married, and I love my husband, and mummph mmmm mummph—­” The end of her protest was muffled by his mouth when it closed over hers. But it stopped entirely when he took advantage of her attempt at continued denial and sucked one of her flapping lips between his own.

Good Lord, what the hell was he doing? She wondered faintly as his arms slid around her, his hands moving down to cup her behind and urge her up against him. That wasn’t kissing. That was . . . oh dear, she thought weakly as his tongue thrust into her mouth and she felt not just a flutter of passion, but an entire damned tsunami of it washing through her body. Dear God, the man was devouring her. He was . . . he was . . .

Not caring what the hell he was, she gave up her thoughts and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as her mouth opened wider in welcome. Holly had never been kissed like this. James had never kissed her as if his very life depended on it, as if he was desperate to explore every nook and cranny of her lips, teeth and tongue. As if she held the secret to the universe somewhere in her mouth and he was determined to find it with his own. His body was giving off so much heat she felt singed, and there was a hardness growing between them that she was quite sure was not expanding foam someone had shot between their groins—­although she would have understood if they had, and the insulation would have been appreciated. Holly was quite sure she was about to burst into flames down there and the hardness growing between his legs was hot enough to curl her hair.

Tasting blood on her tongue was enough to shock these ridiculous thoughts right out of her head. She’d bitten him, Holly realized and pulled her head back with alarm.