by Anne Marsh
Instead of looking grateful, however, she looked even more horrified. He should have expected her reaction. She was human. Until today, she’d gone about her life ignorant of the role she was about to play.
Ignorant of one inescapable fact: she was a pawn.
And, since he could not allow Cuthah to control or destroy her, he would put her into play. He would match her with one of his brothers.
“You can’t go around killing people.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, deliberately playing with her.
“Rogues don’t count.”
Her face froze. It was too bad, really. Her smile would have lit the room, but she wouldn’t smile for him. So, fine. Fortunately, he didn’t need her smiles. All he needed was her body. Her soul. And a few words.
It didn’t take her long to battle back, though. “Call MVD,” she ordered, sitting up straighter. “Let them handle it.”
“There is nothing they can do.” He didn’t even have to lie, because that was the honest truth. There was nothing M City’s paranormal police division, MVD, could do here. The fact was that MVD was outmanned and outgunned. Good for picking up the bodies, but not so good for putting them down. Fortunately, she had him and the Fallen to see to her protection. “You stay here. With us.”
“You bastard.” Her fingers curled into the pillows on top of the bed, and he wondered if she was going to throw a pillow at him, because he could see her visibly reaching for control. He liked seeing her on his bed. “Take me back. Now.”
She stayed on the bed, though, and he figured that was telling. Her body accepted that she wasn’t getting past him, even if her mind was having a hard time playing catch-up.
He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. Eyed her slowly. Even all mussed up and heated, she was lovely. Her hair had uncurled completely from its disciplined chignon, delicate wisps caught along her jaw. She was beautiful, right down to the pink flush on her cheekbones as she glared at him.
“I told you.” He didn’t usually have to repeat himself, but somehow he didn’t mind making an exception for her. Because it riled her up. He was a bastard, but he found that feminine resistance damn sexy. Since she wasn’t going to be his, he figured he was entitled to a little payback for the work he’d done to get her here. So he’d enjoy all the outrage she wanted to throw his way and drink it in, just a little. He had to wonder, though, what she would think if she knew that he could taste her anger, and it was ambrosia. “You stay here.”
Her eyes flared, and he drank more deeply. Feminine outrage. A flicker of—not fear, but discomfort. Something had changed between them during the car ride. Curiosity. Heat. He leaned forward. “You’re going to bond with one of my brothers. All you have to do is choose.”
Zer slid the little white lie in without blinking. Humans knew about the bond mates. Hell, they lined up and volunteered to become bond mates. The soul mates, however, were a carefully kept secret. Almost no one in the human world knew about soul mates because the Fallen didn’t advertise that possibility. That knowledge was a dangerous liability—and the mother of all bargaining chips.
Plus, soul mates were forever. Nessa St. James was already reluctant—so how much more reluctant would she be if she knew she was trading away her life and not just a handful of days, weeks, or months? She’d find out when she found out—and it would be her mate’s problem. Not Zer’s.
“You realize,” she said, laying out her objections in those cool, measured tones that didn’t match her rumpled appearance and that had him wondering what she’d sound like when she came, “that I have research. A laboratory to run. You keep me here, and you destroy months’ worth of my work.” She huffed out a breath, her hands reaching up automatically to fix her hopeless chignon. “I’d be likelier to smuggle nuclear warheads into the heart of the White House. And last time the Russian legislature tried to do that, they failed.”
Yeah, he remembered that particular bloodbath. Not as if his kind hadn’t had a hand in it. One of those damn Goblin favors, but having the politicians in your pocket was a useful thing.
He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “Yeah. Like I said, not something I’m interested in. You want to use it for pillow talk, you go right ahead—after you choose one of my brothers.”
She spat like a cat hitting water. “Look. I’ve dealt with your type before. My dean is a dick, pure and simple. He has no interest in answering academic questions—only thing he wants to hear from me is how he can line his pockets with as many research dollars as he can grab. I show him once and for all the commercial potential of my research, I’ve got him. Conversely, if he can’t see his way to making a buck, I’m dead in the water. No support. No lab. Nada. And your pulling me out of my lab right now isn’t helping me sell my case. Private backers—they’re going to hold me to the same standard.”
“You want money, we can give you money.” Everyone—everything—had a price tag. He knew that better than most.
She ignored him as if he was offering her a dead fish. “You know how long I’ve spent working on my research? I’ve tested the waters. Given papers. Sat on panels. I’m on to something, and I know it.”
Right. He settled back, because he didn’t think she was going to stop anytime soon. No, she was just getting warmed up, and it seemed a shame to spoil her rant.
“I’m not some consultant you can ‘borrow,’ Zer.” Hearing her say his name sent a little curl of satisfaction zinging through him, even if her next words were an unpleasant surprise. “I don’t want your checks. And I certainly didn’t want your interference. You think I don’t know precisely what would happen?” Those magnificent eyes narrowed. “You’ll take control. I’ll lose control. Money always ensures that equation.”
Damn right he was taking control. And it had absolutely nothing to do with money.
“Opening the funding tap?” she continued explaining in those low, modulated, sexy tones, her hands efficiently weaving and plaiting, restoring order. “That’s the same futile kettle of fish. You fucked this up. You brought me here.” Her hands dropped from the now-perfect-again hair, crossing over her chest. Yeah, if looks could kill, he’d have been well planted, because those eyes were measuring him for a coffin.
“You fix it,” she demanded.
“I could, baby—” He stretched slowly. “But I don’t want to.” He smiled, slow and hard. He decided he didn’t care if he scared the fuck out of her or not. “Make me.”
Yeah, he was done negotiating. His professor needed to accept some cold, hard facts, no matter how unpalatable she found them. He came down over her, covering her on the bed to keep her in place. Of course, she bucked against him, as if she were big enough to throw him off. No chance of that. Threading his fingers through hers, he slowly drew her hands up over her head.
“You listen to me now.” The perfect chignon was unraveling again, he noted with satisfaction. “You’re not in charge here. I am. And I think you like being kidnapped. Do you like to play sexy little games with your lovers, baby?”
“No.” She glared up at him, shaking her head, so he captured both her wrists in one hand and threaded his free hand through that hair of hers. Checkmate, he thought with savage satisfaction. Just to prove his point, he lowered his mouth to hers, nipping at that naughty bottom lip of hers with a sharp, hot kiss. Her breathy little inhalation had him wondering if he was going to be able to stop.
God, she tasted so good. The females Nael chose had always been older, if not in biological years, then in experience. They’d seen it all, done it all, and they’d made their price tag perfectly clear. Nessa St. James was all fear and indignation, a sweet, feminine anger—coupled with a deliciously unwanted erotic thrill. She didn’t want to want him, but she did, and he could taste it as clearly in her soul as he could feel the sweet, hot warmth of her body curling toward his.
He wasn’t sure which emotion tasted sweeter. Fear or desire.
Wrapping one large hand around her w
aist, he pulled her closer. She was too important to risk. And that wild, feral part of himself wouldn’t let him lose her. He was going to keep her safe.
For someone else.
She shoved against his body with her own, demanding space, and he bit back a groan. “It’s not safe around you,” she accused.
“No.” He shook his head slowly. He’d give her that much of the truth. “But we’re not the problem. You are.”
She shot him another glare. “No one wants to kill me. On the other hand, someone clearly has it out for you. I’d like to be left out of this.”
“You think it was an accident that rogue ended up in your lecture hall?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” She was connecting the dots, though, even if she didn’t want to.
The rogue in Nessa’s lecture hall had long since stopped fighting.
“He came for you, baby. He’s an assassin, and he was sent to kill you.”
“Prove it.” The professor was back.
There was no way she hadn’t heard about the murders that had plagued M City in recent months. No one was that isolated. “Three months ago,” he began, “there was a series of murders. A recent immigrant. A stockbroker’s wife.”
“They found her in a red negligee.” Nessa nodded.
Yeah, she’d heard the story. Good. Made his job here easier.
“Dead on the Arbat and covered in blood,” she said grimly.
“Cracked wide open,” he corrected, “from pelvis to sternum.” If the negligee hadn’t been red to begin with, the blood would have dyed it crimson. Wrong time, wrong place—that was MVD’s conclusion. Zer and his brothers had known better than the human policing unit. “Two more after that, that MVD found.”
“Were there others?” She looked at him and clearly drew her own conclusions. “You’re dangerous,” she said. “You’re a killer.”
He didn’t deny it. He didn’t want her brand of redemption for himself; it was a luxury he couldn’t afford, and didn’t deserve. Besides, he was beyond all that touchy-feely, come-into-the-light-my-son bullshit anyhow. When Michael had kicked his ass out of the Heavens, he’d thrown away the key, and Zer almost didn’t give a fuck anymore. He’d stood on his own two feet long enough to get used to it. But his brothers deserved whatever chance he could give them.
“You are telling me this for a reason, right?” she insisted.
“They were all on a list,” he said, careful not to share too much. “A list your name is on, too.” Christ, that sounded lame. The yellow pages had lists of names, but he hadn’t gone hunting there.
Clearly, she agreed with him. “You kidnapped me because my name is on some hit list? That makes this a job for MVD,” she scoffed. “This has absolutely nothing to do with me, and you have nothing I want.”
That’s where she was wrong. It had everything to do with her, but he couldn’t afford to tell her that. He needed her to agree—now—and if she knew what she was agreeing to, she’d ask for sun, moon, and stars. And he’d have to do his damnedest to provide. No way.
“The murdered women were bond mates,” she guessed.
“Yes.” And would have been soul mates, if the Fallen had gotten to them first. If the Fallen had known. They’d been potential soul mates.
“Goblin junkies?” She hunched her shoulders as if she abhorred the very idea of women who would hook up, quick and easy, with one of the Fallen. He didn’t think she was the kind of woman who condemned others for their sexual choices, so he had to ask himself: what was it about the idea of a brief, hot, sexual affair in exchange for an enormous favor that made her so uncomfortable?
“No, mates. They were special.” Women liked romance. He needed to spin this carefully. He didn’t want to tip his hand and tell her about soul mates. Not yet. “Whatever they wanted, it could have been theirs. All they had to do was ask.”
“There’s more to life than favors and sex, Zer.”
Damned if it didn’t make him hard as stone, just that simple little thing of her calling him by name.
“Maybe.” When you lived as long as the Fallen had, you didn’t dismiss sensual pleasures so lightly. You took what you could, where you could, just to feel a little more alive than dead. “Imagine a lover who knows what you want before you know it yourself. Who exists to give you pleasure.”
“It’s no gift.”
It was and it wasn’t. He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t recognize the truth of her statement, even as he wanted nothing more than to deny it. “All relationships are give and take,” he said. “Our females give us what we need—and we always give them what they need.” His brothers were consummate seducers. She didn’t stand a chance. She was stuck with him, with them, and the sooner she accepted her role, the sooner she stopped fighting him, the sooner he could get on with the important business.
“Do you know what the bond mates are?”
“Women,” she said. “Women who trade their souls for favors.”
She made it sound sordid. Cold. And it was anything but that. No, it was the hot, heated lick of lust. The lush scent of aroused female flesh. There was nothing cold about it at all, and she’d learn that truth soon enough. “We don’t choose just anyone,” he warned.
“Right. You choose. The woman doesn’t do anything?”
Oh, she did. Nessa St. James would. “She chooses, too,” he whispered darkly. “She chooses what she wants. She chooses her pleasure.”
“Why?” she surprised him by asking. Most got that glazed look in their eyes thinking about the favor and its potential. “Anything” was a powerful promise, and he didn’t believe for one minute that Nessa St. James lacked an imagination. No, she might discipline that imagination, keep it under tight lock and key, but she’d thought about the bond. And the favor.
Even if she wasn’t going to admit it to him.
“Terms of our parole,” he said lightly. “When our asses were booted out of the Heavens, we were sentenced to play seducer down here in this world of yours. We seduce, and your kind likes it, baby.”
“So you were condemned to an eternity of illustrating the pitfalls of giving in to temptation—and you think I should just agree to join you in that Fall?”
She was dangerously quick. “There’s always a price for pleasure, baby. But we make it worth your while. You’ll enjoy every minute of it.” His voice was wicked, liquid promise. “You’re enjoying it now.”
“Am not.”
“You are.” He smiled deliberately, a slow, masculine smile he knew would irritate the hell out of her—and stoke the fires. “I can smell your arousal, baby. Hot, sweet welcome. I touch you right now, you’re coming on my bed. For me.”
She shook her head. There was a dazed look in her eyes that he liked. That look was for him.
“If that’s what you want.” All she had to do was tell him what she wanted, and he’d find a brother to deliver it.
“I don’t believe in romance.” She didn’t bother yelling this time, just laid out her words, calm and slow. “I’m not going to be a bond mate. This isn’t something you can make me do, Zer, and we both know it.”
“You have to do it,” he countered.
“Make me,” she breathed, and he knew that she was remembering his kiss. In the SUV. Hell, it wasn’t as if he could forget it. He’d been two seconds from shoving up that sexy little skirt of hers and getting inside her.
“You don’t leave,” he decreed. “Not until you’ve chosen.”
“You can’t make me pick one of you.” She shook her head, and the thick coil of her hair bounced around her shoulders. He wanted to wrap his hands in that hair and pull her toward him. She didn’t know what kind of creature she was baiting. He was a monster, and he had no business staying with her.
“You will,” he warned, striding toward the door. She shot off the bed, coming after him. “You want your life back, you give me what I want. It won’t be so bad, baby.” She’d liked him just fine in the SUV; she’d like one of his brothers even more. “
Think about it. All your fantasies, come true.”
“I don’t need a man.”
“No.” He stopped short of the door and gave her the meanest, hardest smile he had in him, because he knew the truth. “You need money. And a lab. University backing and pages in a peer-reviewed journal.”
“You,” she said coldly, “are not my peer.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m not.” He folded his arms over his chest, the leather duster stretching over his shoulders. “I’m one better. I’m your new boss. I own your lab. Your university.” He smiled again. “Your life, I believe you called it. You give me what I want, and you can have it all back and more. You want an endowed chair, unlimited lab funding? It can all be yours.”
She shook her head. “It’s not the same.”
“Excuse me?” Money was money, and it spent the same no matter where it came from. “It is the same.”
“No,” she snapped. “It’s not. I worked damn hard to get where I am.”
Yeah. And it was fabulous. He’d gotten an eyeful of the dingy lecture hall, the stack of dusty books and dustier surfaces. Precisely where he’d want to spend the rest of his life. His skin had itched just being there.
“I don’t take handouts, Zer.”
“But will you take a paycheck?” He reached out, his coaxing, stroking finger tracing a naughty pattern down her throat, along her collarbone. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
She’d run if he gave her the chance, so he made it damn clear that there was nowhere for her to go. It wasn’t gentlemanly, but he was no gentleman. After he’d been all over her in the SUV, they both knew that.
He didn’t know why that bothered him. Maybe because she deserved more. Deserved better. If the brother she chose hurt her, he’d kill the bastard.
He strong-armed the door open, ignoring her flinch when the door slammed loudly against the wall.
“Come here,” he said, because he was only saying this once. Threading his fingers through her smaller ones, he tugged. She came, but then, he hadn’t given her a choice, had he? She probably thought he’d treat her like the door. Slam her around a little if she gave him any more lip.