“Pie?” Dominic and Seth asked at the same time.
“Hell, I don’t know. I was trying to come up with something we haven’t thrown around.”
“And you landed on pie,” Dominic said, the scowl in his voice no doubt matching the one on his
Miraculously—or not—the crowds parted, women included, as Dom sprinted out of the club.
Two of his guys were escorting a woman away from the entrance. Harsh words were being exchanged, most in the vicinity of “If we have to ask you to leave again, you’re banned from the club for life and we’re calling the cops.”
Dominic could have handled that. It was the creative addendum of bitch that launched his ass into orbit. Curling his hands over each guy’s waistband, he whipped his elbows forward and tipped them off balance. Each guy flailed until Dom yanked up. Hard. The change was immediate.
Dominic intended to drop them, but the sight of the woman in front of him stole his breath. Literally. She was rank. Her arms and legs were caked in red clay and leaves and grass and—he sniffed—dog shit, though that last could have been coming from her bare feet. Cockleburs, twigs and something he couldn’t bring himself to identify were woven through dark, matted hair. No way could he guess its length. It looked like someone had taken a weed whacker to one side of her hair and given it a good zing. Patches of scalp were bleeding, no doubt where hair had been ripped free. Deep, nasty-looking wounds ran up and down her back as if she’d gone rounds with Godzilla while armed with nothing more than a stalk of celery. The poor thing reeked of fear, too. She trembled like a fall leaf in a stiff breeze—brittle as tissue paper and likely to fall at any moment.
He’d order her a pizza and some of those cheesy bread thingies and try to get her to the shelter for the night. What he might have said to soothe her was lost the second she looked up. His hands relaxed and the two men he held crashed to the pavement as Dom’s mouth silently worked like a dying goldfish’s.
“I kept your secrets.”
The last thing Dominic saw were stars as his eyes rolled back in his head and his skull kissed the asphalt.
* * *
Rhyan managed to maneuver Dom’s bleeding head into her lap before the exotic man she remembered from the club cleared the doorway. Still, she protectively hunched over Dominic and glared at anyone who got too close.
“Hey, beautiful,” the man said gently as he sank to balance on the balls of his feet a few feet away. “Our man okay?”
“He—” She cleared her raw throat and winced, no doubt sounding like a four-pack-a-day smoker while smelling like someone who lived in an outhouse and ran barefoot through the stockyards. And her hair... Not going there. She tried again. “His head bounced off the pavement pretty hard.”
“Serves him right,” one of the guys who’d manhandled her spat.
“You’re both fired,” Dom’s friend said. Though he never raised his voice, both men winced. They walked away without argument or incident. “Want to tell me what happened?”
A single, humiliating tear escaped. Despite the pain in her throat, Rhyan swallowed hard and fast. If she didn’t stop herself now, she was afraid she’d never stop. “I can’t.”
The stranger held out his hand. “I’m Seth.”
She nodded but refused to take her hands away from Dominic even for a quick shake. “I’ve seen you with him.”
Seth nodded. “We’re typically found with another asshole.”
“That would be me,” a deep, smooth voice said from the doorway. “I’m Griff.”
“You own the club,” she offered.
“It seems we’re at a bit of a disadvantage.” Griff looked her over, though there was nothing lewd in his gaze. Not even when he realized she was naked. “Dom’s going to pluck my eyes out of my head and make me eat them, isn’t he?” he muttered, yanking his shirt off and moving swiftly to drape it over her shoulders. Several women near the front of the line started clapping. More than that pulled out cell phone cameras and began snapping away.
“What was that for?” Seth asked, looking between them. His eyes widened and he stood, offering her his back as she struggled into Griff’s shirt. “We’ll be lucky if he stops with our eyes.”
“I won’t let him hurt you,” she said softly. Clearly, though, she couldn’t follow through on that particular promise. Not anymore.
Both men turned around. “Let’s get you inside. You can grab a shower upstairs and I’ll loan you a barmaid’s uniform for tonight. We’ll handle the rest tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, another rogue tear breaking over the dam of her lower lashes.
Together they hoisted Dom up and carried him through the club while she followed close behind.
Bailey saw them and started to rush forward. Griff shook his head and she stopped, narrowed her eyes and closed the distance. “Is Dom okay?”
“Besides the fact our boy here needs to take up a salad once or twice a week, he’s fine,” Griff said, sweating. “What does he do—line his ass with lead every night?”
“Only plausible answer,” Seth answered.
“Plausible, pity, pretentious prick,” Griff snapped.
Seth let go of Dom’s feet.
Griff stumbled and went down, the huge un-nephilim pinning him to the ground. “Son of a bitch. You did that on purpose.”
“Yep.”
Dominic moaned.
Rhyan shoved them out of the way as she went to her knees beside him. Gently tapping his face, she waited.
His nose curled.
If she could have died right then and there, she would have.
Bailey reached over and toed his ankle. “Open those baby blues before you say or do something asinine, handsome.”
“I have these two to cover those bases,” Dom offered, squinting up at Bailey. Then his gaze found Rhyan and he lurched to sitting. Clutching his head, he moaned. A crowd had gathered, and he glared. “Back to what you were doing or back of the line.”
“But we’re already inside!” an anonymous guy protested.
Seth looked the stranger over. “Easy enough to rectify.” Shooting Griff a look, he bared his teeth. “Not a word about my vocabulary.”
A song started to play across the sound system, and Griff choked on his laughter as Christina Aguilera’s “Genie in a Bottle” began to play. “Don’t even have to say anything anymore. I just signal Alan in the sound booth. He keeps it available for special occasions.”
“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Dominic alone.” That got every pair of eyes focused on her, including the man in question. “Please.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Dom held out his hands so Griff and Seth could haul him up. He wobbled a little, but shrugged off offers to help. “I’ll make it.”
“Want to use the apartment to get cleaned up?” Bailey asked Rhyan.
She’d settle for running water at this point. And from Griff’s undisguised wince, the idea wasn’t appealing. No way could she blame him.
“The lockers,” Dom almost shouted. “I’ll, uh, take her to the women’s lockers. Clear them out for me, love?”
Bailey’s lips twitched. “Sure, sweetie.”
Grumbling, Griff called to her retreating back, “Seth and I will cover the bar for you, Bailey.”
The woman lifted her hand in a wave but never slowed down.
Dominic started toward the swinging door Bailey had passed through, gesturing her forward without meeting her gaze.
If he thought he could dismiss her out of hand, he had another thing coming. She hadn’t fought to survive and make it back here only to have him blow her off. Hell no. He could kiss her ass. Stomping past him, she charged down the hallway and through the door that was hissing shut on heavy hydraulics.
Water was already running. Bailey took a bunch of supplies out of a locker and handed them over—soap, shampoo, conditioner, a razor, a washcloth. “I don’t have scissors in here, but I’ll see if I can get Griff to call in a favor and have the b
uilding’s salon open early tomorrow so you can get your hair, uh—” she gestured absently at Rhyan’s head “—fixed.”
“Thanks.”
The door opened and closed. Dom moved into sight, and Bailey grinned, backing out of the room. “I’ll leave you two to sort things out.”
“Thanks, Bailey.” Dominic held the door, locking it after the other woman was out. He rounded on her. “You said something before I tried to bust a move by busting my skull. What was it?”
The words were there, but she couldn’t seem to retrieve them. She opened her mouth once, twice, and was on her third go-round when Dom shook his head. “It’s truth or nothing, Rhyan.”
She glared at him. “I said I hadn’t given up your secrets.”
“And what did that cost you?”
Her chin went up a notch.
“Rhyan,” he groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Spill it.”
“It cost me nothing more than I was chose to pay, Dominic. I. Chose.”
“Which means what, exactly?” He looked her over, and she recognized the moment the final puzzle piece snapped into place. “Oh, hell.”
“Pretty much.”
He stumbled around her, taking in her back. “Your wings were removed.”
“Yes.” This wasn’t quite as easy to be stubborn about. But, damn it, that had hurt. “And I’d do it again, make the same choice again.”
“Why? Why would you do that?” he demanded, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her to face him. “Why not just give me up?” Desperation punctuated his questions as clearly as if he’d taken a Sharpie to the locker room’s white tile.
Confusion had her drawing her brows together. “Because you deserved better.” She swallowed hard. “And so did—do—I.”
“Rhyan, I can’t give you more.”
“Then take it.”
“And why would I do that?”
He sounded so forlorn she almost didn’t answer. But she’d fought her way out of Hell to find her way back to him. She’d say her piece, and then, if he still wanted her to go, she’d go.
“Because I love you.”
Chapter Ten
Dominic had thought of a hundred things he’d say to Rhyan if he ever got the chance. Eliciting her confession of love had been at the very top of his whiskey-induced fantasies, and she’d just fulfilled it without him having to finagle anything. Still, he could have misunderstood. “You what?”
“I said I love you.” The words had been so sure until he’d questioned her. Now? They were tentative, as if she was regretting having come back for him.
That wouldn’t do.
He closed in on her, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Under the water, sweetheart.”
“S-sweetheart?” she stammered.
“Uh-huh. It’s not ‘baby,’ so it should be fine.” He reached around her and tested the water. “Hot, but not too hot.” Once she was under, he began shucking his clothes as fast as he dared.
“Dom?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Someone has to wash your back.”
“And you’re that someone?”
“Yep. Unless you want Bailey to do it. And if you do, I’ll still need to stay in here because I’m sure you’ll want to keep your eye on me until you’re sure I don’t have a concussion. They can take a while to show up.” He watched her face fall and was careful to keep going about his business of soaping his hands up, the mountain springs-scented soap beginning to drown out her pungent smell.
“You’re attracted to Bailey?”
“Nope. But I’d be a dumbass to turn down getting to see a little girl-on-girl action with you involved. I’m a lot of things, Rhyan, but dumbass doesn’t make the list.”
Her raw-throated chuckle morphed into a sensual moan as hot water pounded her chest.
Dom’s shaft kicked.
She turned to say something else and noticed his reaction to her. “Is that safe? You know, if you have a concussion.”
“It’s fine.”
“Because you just said it can take a while for a concussion to show up. How long?”
He scowled. “I don’t know. But I’m fine.”
“Then Bailey could help me get my back clean and I could talk to you after the shower, right?” Wide eyes stared up at him.
“Yeah, I guess.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “No. No, that won’t work.” Closing the distance, he cupped her jaw. “I want you, Rhyan.”
“Want how? And for how long?”
“Divine save me,” he groused, fists on his hips and chin tucked to his chest. He lifted his gaze to answer her only to find her laughing. “What?”
“You’re not a dumbass, but you’re so gullible.”
“You minx. C’mere,” he snarled, pulling her gently into his embrace. “You still feel like playing a little ball?”
“Only if I’m up to bat first.”
He grinned. “Home team’s always up to bat first.”
“But I’m not the home team.”
“But you could be.”
“How?” She searched his face. “Oh. Oh!”
“Stay, Rhyan. With me.”
She nodded, throwing herself into his arms. “But why?” she asked, his chest muffling her words.
“Is this because of me choosing to fall?” Her gaze zeroed in on his. “Because I want you to want me, not the sacrifice.”
“I choose you just the same as you chose me. Now do me a favor and honor my choice, too.”
“Fair enough.” She rubbed her nose and muddy water dripped from her nose. “One more question.”
“Hit me.”
“Why do you want me?”
“I don’t.”
She paled.
“Well, actually I do.” He pulled her unyielding body into his embrace. “But it’s all part and parcel.” He’d stared down true terror, and it had nothing to do with having her in his life long-term and everything to do with not. This woman, his woman, meant everything to him, and there was only one way to express himself.
“I love you.”
* * * * *
About the Author
From stable hand to a name on the door of a corporate American office, Denise Tompkins has been many things. (Never a waitress, though. Thank-you cards for her sparing the unsuspecting public from this catastrophe can be sent in care of her agent.) Writing has always been her passion, though. And writing romance? An absolute dream come true. Her theory is that a kiss should be meaningful regardless of length, a hero can say as much with a well-written look as he can with a long-winded paragraph and heroines are meant to hold their own. She’s no Cinderella, and Shakespeare wrote the only Romeo and Juliet, so Denise sticks to women who can save themselves and tortured heroes who are loath to let them.
Denise and her husband live in the South, where all foods are considered fry-able and bugs die only to be reborn in bloodsucking triplicate. Visit her online, at www.denise-tompkins.com, anytime.
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ISBN-13: 9781460328286
PURE DESIRE
Copyright © 2014 by Denise Tompkins
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electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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