Eve knew it wasn’t fear that had her reacting to him in such a defiant manner, but something else she didn’t want to name.
He studied the sculpture she’d dumped on him. “What is this?”
“A sample I did for Eric.”
His gaze flickered back to her. “You’re an artist.”
“A sculptor. I’ll have my own show soon.” Eve cringed at what must sound like a weak attempt to issue an invitation. As if he’d want to come. She stuck her sore finger in her mouth—or at least she had attempted to when he grabbed her hand.
Her heart tripped. She hadn’t even seen him move around the desk. “It’s just—”
“A scratch. So you said. Let me.”
Before she could figure out what he meant, his mouth closed around her finger. Her breath tangled in her throat, her gaze trapped by his. A blue flame flickered in those dark depths. She forgot about her scars as his warm tongue lapped at the tiny wound, caught in a whirlpool of sensations.
Oh, dear God! Need roared to life, lighting a fuse that led directly to the most feminine part of her.
Struggling to tamp down the wayward desires, Eve tugged her hand free and clutched the desk to support her shaky limbs. She didn’t even know his name, and she’d already been more intimate with him than any man.
“Why–why did you do that?” she croaked.
He shook his head. His fists bunched, then he shoved them into his pants pockets. “My name’s Reynner. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
Amusement tugged his lips. “Why so suspicious?”
Dear Lord—that smile! Before she did something mortifying like grab him and take a bite of his sexy mouth, she said, “Talk fast.”
His brow climbed up. “I can't ‘talk fast’ about this.”
Snorting, Eve brushed past him and walked out from the office. She needed her friends. Maybe Kataya and Brenna would slap some common sense back into her head.
As she made her way down the short corridor, Eve struggled to remain composed—a darn difficult thing to do when his quiet presence behind her tugged at her like a magnet.
Relief flooded her as she entered the gallery and spied Brenna and Kataya heading her way.
“There you are. We’ve been looking for you—” Kataya broke off, glancing behind Eve in shock.
“I…umm, I got detained.”
“Eve?”
No touching, just her name in his lightly accented voice, and it put the brakes on her flight response. Her friends did a perfect impression of two landed guppies.
“It’s important.” His low tone stroked her senses like a warm caress.
Oh, heck, she was in so much trouble. She flicked a quick look at him over her shoulder and met his dark blue stare. Yes, the man was a stranger, but one who called to her on an intrinsic level. It left her with little choice but a burning need to find out what it was about him that affected her in this way. And he said he wanted to talk. “Okay.”
Eve turned to her dumbstruck friends, and introduced them. “These are my friends, Kataya and Brenna,” she told him. “Kat, Bren, this is Reynner.”
He gave them a polite nod.
Their hellos were a croaky effort at best, for which she couldn’t blame them. With that face, Reynner would probably leave many breathless.
“I won’t be long. Five minutes and we can leave, okay?”
Eve took her purse from a still gaping Brenna, then slipped past the guests and walked out into the busy foyer. She turned to Reynner and tried to ignore the attention he drew from the women there. They didn’t bother with her after the first dismissive look. With her hands on display, she wasn’t even a contender in their eyes.
Eve tightened her fingers on her purse, yearning to dig out her spare pair of gloves, but she refused to let them win.
A leggy blonde in a figure-hugging black cocktail dress glided up to them. The front V of her bodice dipped low, revealing her gym-sculpted body. Her gray eyes bright with carnal interest.
“Hello,” she murmured to Reynner in a throaty voice that annoyed Eve.
His gaze flickered to her.
“I’m Selene. Did you enjoy the exhibit?”
“I’m not here for the art. I came for Eve.” Cool. Dismissive.
A tingle of delight burst through Eve at his statement.
“Well, then…” Selene gave Eve a disdainful glance. “I’m sure you’ll feel differently tomorrow. Give me a call.” She slipped a small card in his pocket and sashayed away.
Yes, better to get this over with, or her self-worth would never stand the onslaught. But the insult stung.
“What do you want to talk about?” Eve kept her tone level, aware of the small card residing in his coat pocket like a poisonous asp.
“Not here. It’s too crowded. Let’s walk.” He summoned the elevator.
Walk. Her feet rebelled at the word. “My stilettos are going to kill me.”
He glanced at her killer heels. “We won’t go far.”
“Matters little when you’re wearing torture devices,” she muttered.
He didn’t say anything. Discreetly, she studied him while they waited for the elevator. He stood with his feet slightly apart, arms crossed over his chest. His hands-off vibe all but smacked her in the face. Maybe it was just with her…but no, he’d brushed off the other woman, too.
The door to the elevator clanged open. Moments later, they were descending to the ground floor at a snail’s pace.
Eve leaned against the metal wall. Enclosed in this small cage, she fought to keep her breathing shallow. God, but the man smelled really, really good. It was almost as if she stood in the middle of a forest after the rain.
However, now that he’d gotten her agreement to talk, he didn’t seem ready to do so. He stared at the receding numbers of each floor as if it were a far more interesting sight.
Just her luck.
Eve flexed an aching foot and sighed. It kept her from obsessing about why a man who looked like him would suck her finger. He turned then and eyed her foot, only to ask a different question.
“The ear’s healed?”
“What?”
He nodded to her ear.
“Oh. Yes, it’s fine.” She touched her unadorned lobe. The fast healing had surprised her, but the hole had closed, which meant getting it re-pierced. Not a visit she cared to think about. She’d suffered through enough pain in her lifetime. Her scars hurt more when she worked long hours, like today. She curled and uncurled her fingers to ease the stiffness.
“What happened to your hands?”
Eve struggled to breathe at his question. Flames of the past leaped up and consumed her. “An accident, ten years ago...”
“Fire?” Something in his dark stare told her this went past polite interest, like he was truly concerned. And maybe that’s why she told him about the car crash.
“I couldn’t save them,” she whispered. “My parents were trapped…the fire….”
“I’m sorry.”
She swallowed the tightness in her throat and nodded, rubbing the old scar on her chest.
He reached out and gently stroked her face. Startled, her gaze flew to his. He looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his head. His jaw rigid, his hands disappeared behind his back. He remained silent, but she caught the brief flicker in his haunted gaze, like he understood tragedy. She couldn’t be sure because he pivoted as the doors opened.
Still, something had moved in his shadowy gaze and touched a deep visceral part of her. Almost like a connection was made between them in that single moment.
Eve stepped out of the elevator and discarded her fanciful imagination. A connection with this self-contained fortress? Right. The only connection she had was one of arousal that left her damp and edgy. And dammit, she’d had it with her shoes.
Resting her hand on the wall, Eve pulled off her stiletto. A moan of relief escaped her, one she cut off when she found him watching her. “It’s been a long and tiring d
ay. So what did you want to talk about?”
She slipped off the other shoe, hooked her finger through both straps, and felt like a midget next to him. Her head must barely touch his shoulders because she certainly couldn’t see over them.
He held out an iPhone. As if on cue it rang. Like a Virgin belted out loud in the quiet night. Eve dove for her cell, heat rushing to her face. How the heck did he get her phone?
“Sorry,” she mumbled in embarrassment and pushed open the lobby door into the sweltering night. He followed her. Within seconds, she felt like a wilting rag while he, even in leathers, appeared cool, gorgeous. And untouchable.
Reynner exuded that inaccessible air like a thick cloud…but clouds can dissipate, she thought with a little smile and answered her call.
***
Reynner shoved his hands into his pants pockets, inhaling sharply to clear the smell of her from his lungs, and failed.
Urias, this wasn’t turning out as he’d planned. Locked in the elevator with her, her subtle peach fragrance combined with the scent of her arousal taunted him. The latter he’d caused by sucking on her finger. He was only supposed to taste her blood, not behave like a bloody leech. Everything about her drew him in. She was too compelling, even with those strange blue-painted toenails. It’d taken every bit of willpower he possessed not to haul her to him and devour her mouth instead.
She sent him a quick look as she spoke on her cell. Her gaze, like an erotic caress, tightened his skin, and his cock hardened uncomfortably against his zipper.
How the hell could one tiny human unravel his mind—his defenses—so easily?
The taste of her blood hummed through him like a symphony. Any more, and he’d have the whole bloody orchestra playing in him. Yes, she had magic in her. He doubted she was even aware of it. His heart quickened at the enormity of what this meant for his realm.
Would she agree to aid him in his search for the artifact?
It mattered little. He needed her help, and he would get it.
Reynner brought his attention back to his job and realized to whom she was speaking. The artist. His eyes narrowing, he strolled closer.
“It’s been a long day, I’m sorry about tonight, David…yes, Wednesday… Bye.” She ended her call. “Sorry about that. And thank you for my cell. I didn’t realize I’d lost it—oh, that means I have yours.” She dug through her purse, found his iPhone, and handed it to him.
He slipped the cell into his pocket. “That painting of you?”
“What about it?” A defensive note entered her voice.
“You’re dating the artist?” It surprised him he hadn’t snarled the question, considering his territorial thoughts.
“What?” She blinked those darkly lashed forest green eyes at him. “No. Why?”
At her answer, perverse pleasure surged through him. The artist wanted her. It all but screamed from each brush stroke. Too bad for the human, Eve was going to be under his protection while they searched for the artifact. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to rip off the male’s head for daring to imagine her so—like she’d been made love to.
“I’ll give you a ride to your home. We can talk on the way.”
She hesitated, probably picking up on his anger. “It’s not necessary. We can talk here.”
Hell, he needed to lighten up before she bailed. Deliberately he glanced at her feet. “It’ll take a while, and you can save your friends a trip. Or you could put on those torture devices, go back inside, and tell them to wait.”
Her pained expression at the thought of wearing her shoes again told him he’d knocked down the first obstacle.
“Let me call—”
“No need. The cavalry’s here.” Reynner nodded toward the gallery entrance as her friends hurried out. Cold amusement seeped through that they would protect Eve from him. He’d allow no harm to come to her, ever.
“I won’t be long.” Barefoot, she ran over to them, the short hem of her bright aquamarine dress fluttering around her golden brown thighs. Reynner forced his gaze away and tamped down the sudden image of what they’d look like wrapped around his waist. Thanks to his heightened senses, he easily picked up on most of their conversation.
The redheaded grabbed her arm. “Eve, did you go find him yesterday?” she hissed. “That’s asking for trouble.”
Find him?
“No, Kat, I didn’t. He helped me out last night at the club. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't think I’d ever see him again… Jeez, no, nothing happened! I accidently crashed into him, and our phones sort of ended up with each other. He came to give it back. That’s all.”
“And now?”
“And now…he offered me a ride home. I’ll be fine.”
Her friend snorted. “You’re hoping to get rid of the dreaded V with the badass, right?”
“Christ, Kat, hush! He’ll hear you…” She leaned in closer, and he missed some of her words. “…nothing. I feel nothing at all with him,” she said. “You don’t know how wonderful that is. For the first time, I don’t have to worry about anything.”
The redhead sighed. “Okay. But be careful. Have fun, and we want deets. I’ll call you.”
She felt nothing for him? Reynner frowned. She wanted him, he knew that, so why—
Urias, what was he doing? It was better this way, less complication. He had a job to do, no matter what his dick wanted.
Eve stifled an embarrassed laugh and hugged her friends. Her fingers fisted as she did so.
Was her wound worse than he thought? The sculpture had made a small cut, but his saliva should have healed it. And what the hell was this dreaded V?
Reynner stiffened, his nostrils flared. A trace of sulfur drifted to him.
Demoniis.
Since his escape from Hell, his one true enjoyment had been destroying the bastards. He glanced around and hoped none crossed his path right now. He should have let Eve go with her friends, instead of giving into temptation and offering her a ride. Hell, he could have had this conversation with her later, but her haunting scent and the painting in the gallery with her incredible sensuality splashed all over it messed with his rational mind.
No, he didn’t like that the artist had captured the very essence of her, or the fact that she’d posed for the damn thing.
Pulling his cell from his coat pocket, Reynner frowned at the two cards he drew out with it. Tossing the scented one into a nearby dumpster and using the other, he made his call.
***
Eve watched her friends walk away and wondered if she’d lost her mind leaving with a complete stranger.
She didn’t know Reynner, she only understood that from the moment she saw him, he drew her like a magnetic field. That haunted expression she’d glimpsed earlier. It made her want to ease him, to soothe the hurt in him.
She walked back to the man who scrambled her good sense. Only he wasn’t watching her, but the street. At her approach, he turned the full force of that stunning face on her. She had to clench her fingers not to reach out and touch him.
He ushered her into a dark gray Porsche parked at the curb. Eve sank into the luxurious seat, inhaling the smell of expensive leather and a faint hint of wild forest. She dropped her stilettoes on the floorboard, leaned back, and exhaled in gratitude as she stretched out her aching feet.
Reynner circled the hood, opened the door, and slid in beside her. Then the soft purr of the engine filled the interior.
“Where to?” he asked, voice clipped. Eve cut him a sharp look, unable to pinpoint what had set her inner alarm cranking its rusty bells. Okay, the man had that dangerous persona thing going for him, but something was seriously off.
“East Village.” She reeled off her address. “What’s wrong?”
“Fasten your seatbelt.”
Her tummy dipped at his flat tone. Hastily, she strapped herself in. He stepped on the gas and sent the car flying down the empty street.
And the past came flashing back—her parents’ car swerving and c
olliding into another, the ripping of metal, the shattering of glass. Flames leaping—flesh burning—
“Slow down!” she yelled, her heart crashing against her ribs. He glanced at her, his jaw tight. But he eased up on the gas and detoured through a quiet thoroughfare.
By the time Eve snapped out of her panic attack, Reynner had pulled into a deserted alley in a really rundown part of town and switched off the engine. Night enfolded them. There were no streetlights, just the looming buildings, and slashes of moonlight. Her uneasiness grew. “Why—”
“Stay in the car,” he cut her short. “Don’t leave, no matter what you see.” He opened the door. The interior light came on to reveal his profile hewn in granite. She grabbed his sleeve. “Wait—wait. You can’t go out there. This place is dangerous.”
Reynner turned. His face, his sensual lips mere inches from hers. But the utter coldness of his expression worried her.
“Stay here,” he repeated. The door slammed shut and he headed into the alley. Several figures emerged from the shadows and circled him. Fear took hold, anxiety clawing her stomach. Was this some kind of gang fight?
Then Reynner moved, unbelievably fast, right into a sea of black figures. She could barely keep track of him, glimpsing just flashes of his pale hair. A flare of fiery-red light zapping out from one of the thugs startled her.
Oh, God. They had weapons—laser guns? Reynner was unarmed, alone.
She scrambled for her phone in her bag to call 911.
A thunder-like roar resonated throughout the alley. Her mouth dropped open, her call forgotten, her gaze pinned to the dark figures crashing to the ground like falling dominoes.
Reynner grabbed one of the fallen by the hair. Steel gleamed. He slit the pale, exposed throat. Blood sprayed. Then he plunged his dagger into the man’s chest.
Chapter 5
Oh, God—oh, God! He…he… Reynner killed a man!
Run. Get out of here! But Eve’s legs refused to obey.
Terror turned to dread when she saw clear in the moonlight that it wasn’t blood that flowed from the man’s neck, but something like…thick, black goo?
Darkness Undone Page 5