by Zoe Chant
“So I need a bodyguard,” Raluca concluded. “I do not know how to fight, and I cannot publicly become a dragon. I would die before revealing the existence of shifters to the world. Someone must protect me who can do so in their human form.”
Hal nodded; this too made sense to him. “Of course. And I assume you’d like to know who’s behind the plot?”
“I would,” Raluca said. “So I need someone who is strong, courageous, and intelligent.”
Hal smiled and leaned back in his own armchair. “That goes without saying. I only hire the sharpest knives in the drawer. But what sort of things do you want to do while they’re guarding you? I’d assign a different person depending on whether you want to go to hot new nightclubs, or Santa Martina’s fanciest parties.” He chuckled, more to himself than to her, as he said, “Or frat keggers and fight clubs and flea markets.”
Raluca hadn’t had any particular plans other than “find Lucas” and then “get a bodyguard.” But Hal’s offhand joke struck a chord with her. Why not see how the other half lived? She’d had enough fancy parties to last her a lifetime. But she’d never been to a nightclub. She didn’t even know what a frat kegger or fight club or flea market was, other than a place or activity Hal wouldn’t expect to see her at. Presumably they were rough and low class.
“I want to go to hot new nightclubs,” Raluca said. “And also fight clubs and flea markets and — er —” The last term was so unfamiliar to her that it slipped her mind. “That other thing. I want to do everything a princess of Viorel never gets a chance to do. Peasant things. Dangerous things. American things.”
Then honesty forced her add, “And also fancy parties. I do enjoy them. I would be very sad to leave America without attending a single ball.”
“I think we can get you into at least one.” Hal smiled at her. He seemed to sincerely like her, which was pleasant but strange. Most people neither liked nor disliked her; she was the princess, to be regarded with awe and respect and deference. Liking didn’t enter into the picture.
“You’re in luck,” Hal went on. “Almost everyone but Lucas is available right now. Don’t get the wrong impression; everyone’s extremely competent, and anyone here can protect you. But if it’s possible, I try to pick the ideal bodyguard for the job. Would you rather have a man or woman, or does it not matter? Do you want someone who’ll look intimidating, or would you rather have someone who people won’t even know is your bodyguard?”
Raluca hadn’t thought of anything beyond needing someone to protect her, since Lucas wasn’t there. She had no idea who the other bodyguards were. And though she knew Lucas must trust Hal, or he wouldn’t be working for him, she’d been trained her entire life not to reveal anything more than was absolutely necessary.
Cautiously, she said, “Why don’t you tell me a little about who you have, and then I’ll decide.”
To her relief, Hal seemed to find that a reasonable request. “Sure. I’ll show you photos, too, so you can get a sense of who might blend in where.”
Hal took a file from his desk drawer and opened it. The first photo was of Lucas, looking every inch a dragon prince in a three-piece suit. Hal flipped it over without comment.
The next was of an elegant blonde woman. If Lucas looked like a prince, that woman looked like a young queen. Raluca started to reach out for her, but Hal slid the photo aside.
“Fiona’s on an assignment now,” he said. “Too bad, I think you’d get along. Maybe you can at least meet her later.”
The next picture was of a Latina woman, curvy and small, smiling confidently at the camera. Hal turned that one over as well. “Catalina’s a new hire; she’s still in training. But you can have your pick of the rest of the team.”
“Are you including yourself?” Raluca wouldn’t mind having Hal as a bodyguard. He seemed both competent and friendly, and his size alone should intimidate all but the bravest assassins.
“No, sorry,” Hal said. “I have my hands full managing the team. I don’t usually take solo assignments. But Shane’s available. Here.”
Hal showed Raluca a photograph of a tall man with black hair and eyes blue as ice. “Shane is a panther shifter, and he has other powers too. He can terrify people by looking into their eyes, and he can also make people not notice him at all. Since it’s not clear who’s after you or why, someone who can disappear at will might be the best choice. Shane can not only protect you, he can investigate and infiltrate for you.”
Shane wasn’t smiling for the camera, and something about him unnerved Raluca. She couldn’t imagine enjoying a nightclub — or anything else — with that dark presence at her side.
Politely, she said, “I’d like to see everyone before I choose.”
As if Hal had read her mind, he said, “If you’d prefer someone more easygoing, I have two bodyguards who fit that bill.”
He spread out two photos. One was of a strikingly handsome Latino man, strong-looking but with a relaxed posture and pleasant expression. The other was of a curvy black woman with lots of braids and a merry smile. She didn’t match Raluca’s idea of a bodyguard. But both of them did look a lot more friendly than Shane.
“Rafa used to be a Navy SEAL, with me,” Hal said. “He’s a lion shifter. He can be intimidating if he needs to be, but he won’t scare people accidentally. The only problem with him is that if you’re hoping to meet men, they may not approach you if they see him with you.”
Raluca considered the photo again. “I see what you mean. What about the woman? I assume she’s stronger than she looks.”
“Absolutely,” Hal assured her. “Destiny is a tiger shifter and an Army veteran. She has shifter strength, she’s a crack shot, she’s very level-headed, and she’s equally comfortable on the streets and in high society. Since you don’t know who’s after you and you want to find out, you’re probably better off with a bodyguard who doesn’t look like one. Destiny can protect you, but as long as you don’t hold hands or anything, anyone who sees you together will assume you’re just friends.”
Hal gave a firm nod, pushing Destiny’s photo closer to Raluca. “Destiny’s perfect for you. And you’ll get along, I promise.”
Destiny did sound good, and Raluca liked the idea of a female bodyguard. She’d had so few opportunities to make friends with other women — or with anyone, for that matter. And while Destiny was casually dressed in the photo, Raluca could also imagine her in an evening gown, perhaps with her hair done up in a more formal style.
Raluca picked up the photo. She was about to say, “I’ll take her,” when she caught sight of the picture beneath Destiny’s.
Curious, Raluca glanced at that one. It showed a young man staring challengingly into the camera, as if he was trying to intimidate the photographer into looking away. His hair was black, his eyes were an unusually intense shade of emerald green, and his muscular arms, which were folded across his chest, were covered in tattoos.
Dragon shifters never tattooed themselves; they were born with dragonmarks, glittering birthmarks the color of their dragon, unique to each individual. Tattooing was a taboo, considered inferior to a dragon shifter’s natural marks. Raluca, used to the beauty and elegance of dragonmarks, had always thought that tattoos were tacky at best.
But this man’s tattoos were different. Raluca picked up the photograph to get a closer look. Tree branches stretched along his arms, some gnarled and ancient, some young and smooth, with each crack in the bark and vein in the leaves depicted with exquisite detail and realistic shading. A slim vine, green as spring itself, twined around one finger.
The tattoos were cut off by his shirt sleeves, but they obviously extended beyond them. Raluca wondered how much of his body was tattooed. If his arms had branches, would his chest show the trunks? What would the muscles of his chest look like under that exquisite tattoo? Would his nipples be covered in leaves, or left bare? Would wind seem to move in the trees as he breathed in and out...?
A noise made her jerk her gaze upward.
> Hal had cleared his throat. “Like I said. Destiny’s the one you want. I’ll call her right now.”
“What about this man?” Raluca held up the photograph.
“Nick?” Hal shook his head. “Not the right guy for this job. I wasn’t even going to show him to you.”
“Is he not available?”
“Oh, he’s available.” Hal seemed to be trying not to laugh, as if he had heard the punchline to a joke that Raluca was too ignorant to understand. It annoyed her.
Icily, she inquired, “Is he incompetent? Unintelligent? Weak?”
“No, of course not. He’s just — Look, you mentioned fancy parties. I assume you mean princess-level fancy parties. That’s not Nick’s style.” Hal chuckled, again seeming amused at some private joke. “He’d be great at the fight clubs, though.”
Her dragon hissed within her. Choose Nick.
Raluca’s dragon was normally very quiet. She’d already spoken more in the last hour than she often did in an entire week. That caught Raluca’s attention as much as her words.
Hal reached for the photo.
Instinctively, Raluca jerked it away from him, clutching it to her bosom. “In formal attire, he would wear long sleeves. Most of his tattoos would be covered. If necessary, he could wear gloves to conceal the rest.”
It would be a shame to cover up those beautiful tattoos, but those strong hands would also look good in black silk gloves. His big knuckles would make a tempting contrast, a suggestion of roughness beneath the elegance. She could almost imagine the smooth touch of his silk-covered hand on her bare arm as he escorted her to the dance floor. After the dance, when they were alone, she could remove the gloves for him. With her teeth, perhaps. Very delicately, pulling gently, her lips brushing across his muscular wrist and the back of his hand in a trailing kiss, taking her time, making him shudder with pent-up desire...
Hal cleared his throat again. Raluca dropped back to reality with a jolt. What was wrong with her? It was completely unlike her to drift into a sexual fantasy in the middle of a business conversation — especially a fantasy of something so completely inappropriate. She was hiring a guard, not a lover. And if she did take a lover, it would certainly not be a tattoo-covered bodyguard. It would someone suited to her station. If not royalty, at least a man from a high-born family. Or perhaps a billionaire.
Though if she did hire this man — Nick — people might mistake him for her lover, as Hal had warned could happen if she was seen with Rafa. The rumor might get back to Viorel. Everyone who had ever known her would be absolutely horrified. Appalled. Disgusted. Furious.
Especially Uncle Constantine. He’d be so enraged to imagine her with this rough, tough, tattooed commoner, he might actually have a stroke.
Raluca smiled. “I choose Nick.”
Hal was shaking his head. “You really don’t know what you’re getting yourself in for...”
Exasperated, Raluca said, “If you have an objection, please state it clearly.”
“You know what, it’ll be easier to show than tell,” Hal said. “I’ll introduce you two. If you still want him once you’ve met him, it’s fine with me. If not, Destiny’s your woman. Actually, this is great timing. He should be —”
The sound of footsteps broke through Hal’s voice. One set sounded much like Hal’s, evenly paced and belonging to a big, heavy man. The other set was lighter, but fast and hard, slamming into the floor like they had a grudge against it. Along with the footsteps came a man’s voice, loud and angry enough to be heard through the door.
“No, I don’t want to take a deep fucking breath,” the man said. “He fucking flipped me off and I didn’t fucking kill him, and when I was fucking alpha I would’ve fucking had to whether I wanted to or not, so that’s all the fucking self-control anyone fucking needs.”
Raluca’s eyes widened in amazement. She was too shocked to even be offended. She knew the word, of course. No one would say it in front of a princess, but she’d been incognito ever since the first balcony leap, so she’d occasionally overheard it from passersby. But whoever this foul-mouthed person was, he’d just said that word more times in a few seconds than she’d heard it in her entire previous life.
The heavy footsteps seemed to go in a different direction, getting softer and fading away. But the other set got louder, coming closer.
The door was flung open, and a man stormed in. He went straight to Hal, turning his back on her without even looking at her first. How rude!
It is a very nice back, her dragon remarked.
Who cares? Raluca retorted silently. He’s a mannerless lout. I’m certain he was the one who was using... She couldn’t bring herself to repeat it, even in thought. ...that word.
But she couldn’t help agreeing with her dragon. The view from behind was excellent. The rude man was black-haired, tall, and broad-shouldered, wearing a black leather jacket which concealed his literal back. His backside, however, was showcased by a pair of tight black jeans. Raluca was not in the habit of staring at men’s behinds, but since it was turned to her anyway, she had to look at it. Like his legs, it was firm and muscular, nicely curved, making her want to touch it.
In theory. If it belonged to a different man. One with manners, money, a high-class family, and —
The man with the good body and bad manners jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward the door. “Hal, if you catch Rafa at the gym, you tell your fucking buddy to mind his own fucking business.”
Hal’s deep laugh rumbled through the air.
“What’s so fucking funny?” the man demanded.
“You are,” Hal said. “And next time, keep in mind that clients sometimes walk in without an appointment, so don’t start swearing until you see who’s in the lobby. I’m talking to a prospective client and a friend of Lucas’s. Meet Raluca.”
“The fucking foreign princess!?” The man swung around.
Their eyes met.
It was the man from the photograph. Nick, the one with the exquisite tattoos. She could see them now that his hands were in view, the ivy leaves and curling vine even more beautiful in real life. Her gaze lifted from them to the hard masculine planes of his face, his stubborn-looking chin, the rough-looking stubble around lips that might be soft if you touched them with your own, and his tousled black hair with a stray lock falling over his forehead.
But more than anything else, his eyes captured her attention. They were even more startlingly green in person than in the photograph, bright as emeralds and deep as the ocean. On the surface, they were angry, narrowed with what she interpreted as a habitual intensity and willingness to fight to defend himself or others. But like the eyes of the wolf that she guessed was his shift form, they seemed to hold some terrible sorrow beneath the surface, a loneliness that made Raluca want to reach out and draw him close to her, holding him like a treasure. If she did — if he allowed her to — perhaps she’d ease not only his pain, but her own...
Mine, hissed her dragon.
What do you mean? Raluca asked silently. But she had a horrible feeling that she already knew.
He’s the one, her dragon replied. Our mate.
“No!” Raluca said aloud.
Nick was shaking his head and backing away, as if he too had heard some inner voice and didn’t like what it had to say. “No fucking way!”
Raluca straightened her spine. “I am a princess — a former princess —I am a lady, and I don’t like that word. Please do not use it in my presence again.”
“No one fucking tells me how to talk!” Nick instantly retorted.
Hal banged a huge fist down on the desk, making the papers jump. “Nick, she is a client! Raluca, shall I call Destiny now?”
A long silence fell. Nick and Raluca stared at each other.
Mine, repeated her dragon with deep satisfaction. Then she corrected herself, Ours. Our greatest treasure. At last we’ve found him.
Raluca was so torn between horror and shock — and an unwanted rush of desire so intense t
hat it left her wet between the legs — that she could reply to neither her dragon nor Hal. She’d abandoned her entire life to escape an unwanted marriage. She was not going to throw herself away on some cursing commoner who didn’t even like her!
Nick’s eyes raked over her body, hot and angry... and hungry. She could almost feel him taking in every inch of her, as if he was caressing her body with his gaze alone. Her nipples hardened, pulling at the sheer fabric of her nightgown. Raluca dropped the photo like a burning coal and folded her arms over her breasts.
But she wasn’t the only one to physically react to the other’s presence. A bulge appeared between Nick’s legs. With equal haste, he yanked down his leather jacket, concealing the evidence of his arousal. But Raluca knew it was still there. Maybe even growing, if that was possible, pushing hard at his tight jeans. She hoped it was uncomfortable.
She wanted it buried deep inside her.
No, I don’t! Raluca hastily told herself. So he’s attractive. In a shallow, physical way. So what? He’s rude and crude and he’s incredibly turned on by me — I mean, he sees me as nothing but a sexual object. He’s wildly inappropriate, and he’s not what I want.
Nick’s hands clenched into fists. His jaw tensed as if he was gritting his teeth. He took a step backward, every muscle as taut as if he was straining against chains that pulled him toward her.
Hal, bent over to collect his papers, missed the entire silent exchange. When he looked up, both Raluca and Nick straightened and turned their gazes to him. He took a cell phone out of his pocket. “Nick, take off. Raluca, I’m calling Destiny to give her the job.”
Raluca opened her mouth to agree. But instead, what emerged was a vehement, “No!”
“No!” Nick burst out, his denial simultaneous with hers. “If she’s a client, she needs protection. Nobody fucking protects my — that woman — but me!”