She pushed a strand of hair back into her ponytail and went into the kitchen. Taking the rosé wine out of the refrigerator, she poured two large glasses and carried them with her to the door. Placing them down on the side table in the narrow hall, she readied herself.
Someone knocked. Her heart jigged about in time with her stomach. She took a deep breath and told herself that this was it. There was no need to panic. It was just drinks with Erik and finding out what that paragraph meant. That was it. It wasn't going to go any further than that, so there was no need to be disappointed if it didn't.
She opened the door, a bright smile on her lips.
God Almighty, if she didn't want to melt into a puddle right then and there. Her smiled faded, replaced by a look of hunger she couldn't wipe off her face when she looked him over. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed and his brow raising as she stared at him. The black slacks and shirt he wore made him look impossibly hot, and there was such a look in his eyes as he looked at her, so much fire and passion, that she could only stare at him.
He smiled.
Her chest ached, her stomach tensing with need.
Picking up a glass of wine, she held it out to him, squeaking as she tried to say something.
He held a hand up and raked his eyes over her. She swallowed, her hands trembling as she saw the hunger in his gaze. His eyes narrowed and swept back up her.
“You look pretty tonight,” he said in a deep bedroom voice that had her thinking that going out wasn't really necessary and she could just grab him, pull him into the flat and screw his brains out.
She extended the glass of wine again, hopeful that he'd take it so she could drink hers and kill the brain cells associated with the dirty little thoughts swimming about her head.
He held a hand up again. “I'm driving. I can't drink.”
“Oh,” she said, still trapped in his eyes. She swallowed the entire glass of wine in one go and started on the second. They did nothing to stop the nerves growing inside of her, or the dirty thoughts. Her head felt fuzzy and her cheeks burned up as the alcohol swept like fire into her veins.
She frowned as her brain finally caught up.
“Why are we going for drinks if you're not drinking?” She went into the kitchen and refilled her glass with shaky hands.
He followed her. She could feel his eyes on her and when she glanced across at him, she found he was staring at her backside.
“I know the owner of the club. I can leave the car there and get a taxi home.” He smiled and then chuckled when her eyes widened. “I assure you, I'm not out to get you drunk.”
She lifted the glass to her lips but he strode across the kitchen and took it from her.
“You're doing a pretty good job of that without my help,” he said and drank the wine. “How about we get a taxi there, too?”
She nodded and then realised that his car would be outside her apartment block all night. He'd have to come back tomorrow to pick it up. The voice at the back of her head said that she could make things easier on him and let him share her bed tonight so he didn't have to go home. She shut it out, telling it that it wasn't going to happen.
Smiling at Erik, she watched him pour the remains of the bottle of wine into the two glasses. He handed her one, and sipped his.
“You look pretty too,” she said and furrowed her brows when he cocked one at her. “In a very manly way...of course...for a client.”
“I'm not sure whether to thank you or be offended that I'm pretty, but in a very manly way.” He finished the wine and put the glass down on the side. “Ready?”
She picked up her mobile. “I'll call a cab and then grab my jacket and we can go.”
She walked out into the corridor, cringing to herself as she listened to the phone ringing at the taxi company. What on Earth had possessed her to tell him that he looked pretty? Men weren't pretty. She should have said that he looked delightfully fuckable or insanely sexy, or one of the other million things that had been floating around her head in that moment. God, he did look good though. Adonis had nothing on this man.
She ended the call with the taxi company and grabbed her jacket and purse off the couch. Putting her jacket over her arm, she went back to the kitchen and Erik. She smiled at him from the doorway.
“I'm ready,” she said.
His gaze narrowed on her body again and then he looked straight into her eyes.
He smiled at her.
“Aren't you just.”
CHAPTER 9
Erik led the way towards the club. He walked along the road when they reached the queue of people waiting to get in. When he realised that Kim had stopped at the back of it, he turned around to face her.
“What are you doing?” he laughed the words, a little giddy over being out with her. She did look fantastic in her little dress. It hadn't gone unnoticed that she'd chosen to wear black. It really suited her. She'd look great in animal form.
“Queuing,” she said with a shrug.
“Not queuing,” he said and caught hold of her arm. He held onto it as he walked and then let go of her when she fell into step beside him.
“Don't we have to queue?” She looked confused.
“I don't queue.” He laughed again and nodded towards the row of people all jostling and peering along the line towards the doors. “That's for them, not me.”
“Oh,” she said, her brows raised and her eyes wide.
He got the feeling she'd never had VIP access to a club before.
Reaching the door, he nodded at the bouncer. He was a huge round man, bald headed and hard as nails. It was a strange contrast to his primal side. He'd seen him in cheetah form. As a human, he looked nothing like the slim, graceful cat he really was.
“Alistair here?” Erik said.
The bouncer shook his head and then grinned, exposing slightly elongated canines. Erik looked over his shoulder at Kim. She was staring open-mouthed at the hulking mass of man in front of her.
“Shall we?” Erik intimated the door as the bouncer took the black velvet rope off its hook, letting them pass.
She moved past him with nothing more than another glance at the bouncer. When the bouncer grinned again, Erik wondered if this was such a great idea. It wasn't often that humans entered this club. If you didn't have the right identity card, the only way of getting in was to be accompanied by a shape-shifter.
Whenever a human did happen to come to the club, they were met with curious glances and whispered comments. He hoped it wouldn't be that way tonight. Usually humans came with the lower ranks, not with one of the elite like him.
This would cause a few rumours to spread. He gave it five minutes before people were talking about her and ten before they decided that she was a potential mate. The club would be packed and that's the only reason they'd be so slow. In a room with only ten or twenty shape-shifters, it would take a split second to smell her scent and know she was in heat.
Lucky for him that being in heat didn't mean it was open season for mating calls. Mates came around once in a lifetime, twice if you were fortunate, and were destined for one person only. Many of his kind didn't find their mates. He couldn't believe that he'd found his. With no face to go on, he'd thought it would be impossible.
He looked around him at the club. The dark interior was lit with blue lights and purple neon. It was packed just as he'd expected it to be. Between him and the bar were at least seventy people.
Kim looked at him, her eyes still wide, but this time she looked fascinated rather than curious.
“I'll get you a drink,” he said over the noise of the music.
It was usually an eclectic mix, but on Saturdays, the club played purely rock and alternative music. It didn't mean there wasn't a slow song to dance to now and then. And it didn't mean that he couldn't get the management to play any song he wanted, regardless of genre.
He looked at Kim, wondering if she'd dare dance with him. When her eyes met his, fire swept through him and he nar
rowed his on hers. He stared intently into her eyes, letting her see his hunger and how she made him feel.
He wanted her. He was going to stop at nothing to get her.
Her pupils dilated. It wasn't the low light making them react. He could smell her scent. It told him she was as hungry as he was.
Leading her towards the bar, he leaned against it when they finally reached it and signalled the bartender. He recognised him. Another black panther. It was nice to have another one to talk to now and then. His species was rare amongst shape-shifters. The more common blood seemed to dominate, and that was the blood his father and brother had. Puma.
If he managed to convince Kim to mate with him, then he'd have another black panther to talk to. More often than not, a chosen mate was already a shape-shifter, but sometimes it turned out to be a human.
He ordered two glasses of wine.
His mother had already been a black panther when she'd mated with his father. Her bloodline extended back further than he could remember, but his father's went back further.
Handing one glass of wine to Kim, he silently toasted her and then nodded towards their destination. She looked there, and then back at him. He smiled reassuringly and started walking through the crowd. It was a tight squeeze, and a few steps in he realised that he was getting separated from Kim.
Kim gasped when a hand took hold of hers, gripping it tightly. She looked up to see Erik still smiling at her and then looked down at her hand where it was held in his.
The air in the room was cool, a shocking contrast to the muggy heat of outside. She'd expected it to be hotter in here, with all the people closely packed together, but the only time she'd felt hot since coming in was when Erik touched her. She shifted her hand in his, holding it and making the most of the chance. She was surprised when his fingers slipped in between hers, tightly locking their hands together. She stayed close behind him as they moved through the crowd, using him as a shield. There was no way she could see where they were going. She couldn't see anything above the people around her. They were all taller than her, and some of the women they passed were incredibly beautiful.
She wondered why Erik had chosen her when he could probably have any girl in this room.
His fingers tightened against hers, his thumb stroking hers softly. She stared at their hands, mesmerised by the tenderness he stirred by caressing her. It felt as though he was trying to reassure her and comfort her. She looked at his back. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes silently asking a question.
Was she all right?
She nodded.
He smiled and squeezed her hand.
A little thrill ran through her.
She wasn't imagining it. She couldn't be imagining it. He cared about her. His look; his actions; it all made her believe it.
They broke through the crowd and she was surprised that she'd made it through unscathed and with her drink intact. They moved past the booths at the side of the room and then walked down an aisle between two of them. Erik disappeared through a dark curtain. Following him in, she looked around at the room. It was lined with mirrors. A dark softly furnished bench seat wrapped itself around a small highly polished table.
Erik slid into the seat.
She shuffled in opposite him.
She noticed that he was reluctant to let go of her hand. The feel of his fingers pressing into her, holding her so tightly, made her warm inside. It wasn't just the wine. She took a sip of it to steady herself. It was good stuff, probably beyond what she could afford.
Looking across at Erik, she saw he was staring at their hands. There was an odd expression on his face, one that she couldn't quite interpret. It was somewhere between wonder and disbelief. Couldn't he bring himself to believe that he was holding her hand, touching her? She couldn't quite believe it herself. It felt so comfortable and natural.
He gave her a hesitant small smile and then released her. She took another sip of her drink, watching him lean across and close the curtain. She liked the privacy and seclusion it gave them. Suddenly she felt as though there was only her and Erik here. There weren't masses of people on the other side of the curtain.
He toyed with his glass and then frowned. It was thoughtful. She wondered what he was thinking and looked around the booth. The light was warm, contrasting with the colder lighting in the main part of the club. She could see herself in the mirror opposite. He'd said she was pretty. Maybe she was tonight. She felt pretty, sexy. He made her feel that way. His attention and smiles, and the way he touched her—it all combined to make her feel as though she really was sexy and attractive.
Shuffling back in her seat a little, she tried to get more comfortable and relaxed. She was sitting in silence with him again. It really was a nice feeling. As though they didn't have to say anything to each other—just being together was enough.
He moved, pressing a button she'd not noticed before and then sitting back again.
“So what do you want to know?” he said, his voice deep and almost a whisper. It made her stomach flip over, heating it a little more.
He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the table and intently staring at her. She blushed but knew he wouldn't be able to see it this time. The lighting in the booth would hide it well. She could blush all she wanted to here.
He looked as though he was waiting for an answer so she thought about it for a while, trying to line up all the questions that she'd had floating around her mind since meeting him.
She gulped a mouthful of wine to give herself some false courage and then leaned forwards too. His eyes dropped. She leaned forwards a little more, letting him get a better look at her cleavage. He wasn't the only one who could do seductive and sensual.
The evident struggle it took for him to get his eyes back up to hers made her feel a bit dizzy, and when his gaze met hers, the temperature in the room seemed to triple. His eyes looked so yellow in this light, warm and shining. She stared into them, listening to the silent words of want and desire they spoke to her. Did her eyes look like that? As though they were begging him to throw the table to one side and forget the conversation and the wine, just take her instead.
If she felt just a bit braver, she'd do as his were asking her. She wanted to see if the reality matched the thrill of the fantasy.
She drank down the rest of the wine. It went straight to her cheeks.
There was a knock on the frame surrounding the curtain.
“Come,” Erik said, his eyes still fixed on hers, dark and seductive.
God did she want to.
Someone drew the curtain aside and stepped in. She was vaguely aware of a man asking Erik something and then Erik responded. All the while, he was looking straight into her eyes. The curtain closed again. He drank the rest of his glass of wine.
“Tell me about Alistair,” she said.
His expression darkened, losing all of its relaxed air.
“What about him?” His voice matched his look.
She could see the anger in his eyes and wished she hadn't mentioned his brother.
“You two don't seem to get along, that's all. You're both so different.”
He leaned back into the seat and stared at the wall behind her. He was looking in the mirror. Was he trying to see if he was like his brother?
“He's like our father. I'm like our mother. They're both very different creatures and so are we. He thinks of nothing but women, and I think of other things.” His dark look didn't shift.
She remembered Simon's words about Erik, or possibly Alistair.
“Blackwell,” she said and Erik flinched. “It's an interesting name...sounds like it has a lot of history.”
“It has. A lot of bloody history. There's nothing nice about my name. Every connotation it gives, it lives. My family history is not nice, Kim. Don't go there.”
He definitely wouldn't call himself by just his last name then. Realising that she was making him uncomfortable, she decided to bring the conversation away from his family.
The curtain opened again, revealing the same waiter as before. He placed an ice bucket down and presented a bottle of something with a flourish. She tried to see what it was. Two long stemmed champagne glasses were placed on little paper napkins on the table. The man left.
Erik poured her a glass of champagne.
“What is it?” she said, eyeing the deep rosy liquid. It was bubbling furiously. Something about it said that whatever slight hint of drunkenness she was feeling was about to explode into full-blown giddiness.
“Dom Pérignon.” He put the bottle back into the ice bucket and moved it to one side, away from them.
“It's pink.”
He smiled and toasted her. “It's damn expensive. Just savour it. You seem to like rosé and my bank account can take it.”
She sipped it. The bubbles went up her nose and carried the alcohol straight to her head. She smiled at the delicate flavour and smell of it. She'd thought the wine he'd bought at the bar had been expensive. She'd never had Dom Pérignon before, and doubted she'd ever have it again on her wages.
Leaning against the table, she smiled across at him. He was watching her, visible hunger still in his eyes.
“Do you like it?” he purred.
She nodded, and tried to think of another question to ask him while her entire body overheated. He'd said that he'd tell her everything she wanted to know. What did she really want to know about Erik Blackwell?
“How old are you?”
He raised a brow and thoughtfully sipped his drink. “Thirty four.”
Her brows rose too.
“Tell me about yourself.” She propped her head up on one hand, conscious that he would be able to see right down her top again, and not caring. If anything, she wanted him to look. “I've got too many questions...”
“Give me a starting point,” he said, resting his elbows on the table again and leaning closer to her. He moved his glass so it was next to hers. His hand was incredibly close and all she could think about was the way he'd held her—possessive, protective.
“Where did you grow up?”
In Heat (In Heat Shapeshifter Romance Series #1) Page 7