by Anne Marsh
If he didn’t, Zer would see to it personally.
“I get my life back,” she said.
She inhaled again, the pearly smooth skin moving away from the wicked bodice of her dress and then pressing against the stiff fabric as she exhaled sharply. He wanted to follow the motion with his tongue.
“I want my life back. And this is the only way,” she acknowledged.
She had no idea.
The doors slid shut, sealing them in.
Zer was too damn big. He filled the elevator’s small space, crowding her. She suspected it was deliberate.
“Get out of my way,” she said tightly. “I’m doing this, just like you wanted.” His too-large body effectively stole any breathing room. This close, she could smell the heat of his body and some spicier, masculine scent. Danger. He smelled dangerous, and she wasn’t stupid. She was going to run the other way and not look back. Wasn’t she?
“You’re dangerous,” she said. “You’re a killer. I got the message.” He didn’t deny it, and she wondered if she’d foolishly hoped that he would.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.
Why was he staring at her like that? It had to be the dress, but since he’d chosen it, fussing like a girlfriend over the fit and the color, she figured it couldn’t be such a surprise. He’d gift-wrapped her for his brothers, so he ought to like what he saw.
He must have a closet full of leather himself, because she’d never seen him dressed in anything else. Easy shopping, sure, but it had to be hell on the laundry bill. God, she was babbling. In her head. So, she was nervous.
“But you’re not the worst killer out there. I got that, too.” He was still staring at her, though, so she babbled on. “I understand Cuthah has to be stopped.”
“That’s altruistic of you,” he growled. “Has nothing to do with your genetic studies, does it?”
“Fuck you,” she cursed. “You don’t get to question my reasons for doing this.”
“So, you’ll choose one of my brothers ... to bond with?”
“What choice do I have, really? I want to help you stop Cuthah.” So far Vkhin had had no luck tracking him down.
“Stopping Cuthah. That your only reason?” He’d badgered her into doing this, and now he wanted to argue about her reasons? She didn’t think so. Her reasons were her own and none of his damned business.
“Well, it’s certainly not because I want some Goblin favor.”
“He’ll be good to you.”
“Who?”
“Whoever you choose,” he promised her. “He’ll worship the ground you walk on. You’ll be his sun, moon, and stars.”
Her throat closed up. Panic. That was too much. She wasn’t ready to be the center of anyone’s universe. He moved closer to her, and she reached out a hand before she could stop herself. There were iron muscles beneath the expensive fabric of his sleeve and a hard, unyielding ridge of metal. He had blades strapped to his forearms. The ink there teased her, dark bands of black escaping the edge of his sleeve.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, giving him honesty because he deserved that much from her. Just because she wanted to do the right thing didn’t mean she’d actually be able to follow through. The whole leaping-to-your-death thing only worked if you actually managed to clear the ledge and get into the air. Still, the elevator was purring smoothly downward, and that was a step in the right direction, even if it did seem to be taking Zer’s gaze with it. Those dark eyes stopped on the impossibly high heels he’d insisted on. She liked them. They made her feel sexy. Plus, she knew he’d expected her to protest.
So, to keep him off balance, she hadn’t.
“Why’d you do this?” She touched the dark ink as he stabbed the elevator’s stop button.
A confused look crossed his face. Clearly, he’d expected her to protest the elevator’s halt. “The ink? No reason.”
She drew a finger over the dark swirls. “They look like the bonding mark.”
“I don’t bond with anyone.”
“But no woman’s going to ask, is she?” Her eyes narrowed. “You tattooed a keep-away sign right there.”
He didn’t answer, but she knew she was right. “The others take bond mates. Why don’t you?”
“It wouldn’t be safe.”
“You like my shoes?” Was that her voice that sounded so breathless?
He looked baffled and adorably male at her abrupt topic switch. “Yeah,” he said as if she’d asked him a complicated genetics question. “Yeah, I do.” He cleared his throat and yanked his gaze up from her ankles.
“You like my dress?” She smoothed a hand over her hip and knew she was teasing the beast, but anything to stop time for another few seconds.
“You look beautiful.” The look in his eyes was indecipherable. “He’ll love you,” he promised.
He sounded gruffly tender. As if he was worried about her, which was impossible. He didn’t want her, had made that perfectly clear, but she couldn’t stop pushing him. Pushing herself.
“So, are you going to get in line?” She embraced the flicker of anger she felt. That heat felt so much better than the cold ball of terror growing in her stomach.
He shook his head. “You know I’m not. I’m too close to the Change, baby, and you make me want to go right on over that edge.”
“What’s the Change?”
“You don’t want to know,” he countered. “But I’m not up for grabs. You choose anyone else you want down there.”
“Anyone but you.” When he didn’t answer, she pushed on. “You don’t want me to be your bond mate?”
“There’s no redeeming me, baby,” he warned. “I’m no makeover project.”
She felt an unfamiliar stab of emotion at thought of this male being lost forever. Stop it. “Why not?”
His answer was a lazy drawl. “Captain goes down with the ship, baby. You know that. My brothers deserve redemption, and I’m going to make damn sure they get it. That they get you.”
“What if I don’t want to be the door prize?” She glared up at him.
Zer slammed the button to start the elevator again.
Those too-innocent doe eyes of hers stared at him, dissecting him like an unfamiliar living specimen. Did she like what she saw? It didn’t matter. He was way past redemption and even more beyond all that touchy-feely, come-into-the-light-my-son bullshit. When Michael had kicked his ass out of the Heavens, he’d thrown away the key, and Zer didn’t give a damn. He’d stand on his own two feet.
“Don’t push me,” he growled. “In twelve floors, you’re rid of me. Until then, you’re all mine, baby.” Hell, yeah.
“Oh, no, I’m not,” she taunted.
He was going to take this one last opportunity to touch her before he handed her over. Bracing her against the wall, he planted his hands on either side of her face. His stance was dominating. Hard. He had twelve floors, and he was going to use them.
He didn’t taste her mouth at first. Instead, he traced a hot, damp path over her skin with his tongue, exploring the curve of her ear like a Tartar lord exploring the virgin expanse of the Russian steppes before he unleashed a flood of ruthless warriors. He gave the trembling flesh a hot lick.
His wicked tongue stroked, penetrated. He knew she’d want to tell him no, that she’d know five good reasons she should, but he also knew she’d been alone a long time, and he’d been created for this. So damned good. He could feel her body softening for him, welcoming his seduction.
His teeth nipping at her earlobe brought a moan to her lips.
“You like that,” he said with masculine satisfaction. “The pleasure—or the pain, baby?”
He curled his hands against hers, pinning her in place.
Parted her thighs with a leather-clad thigh, sliding home between them and sheathing himself there in raw simulation of the sex act. The intimate sound of her skirt sliding upward, the whisper of lace and silk as she parted for him, filled the heated silence of the elevator. God. She wan
ted him. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but he had to have her. Just for a few minutes. Then he’d let her go.
She melted into him, and he brought his mouth down on hers, his tongue stroking along the closed seam of her lips. Sweeping in. Conqueror. Just like a hundred kisses before. Practiced. Nothing could have prepared him for the hot, sweet taste of the female in his arms, the unique scent of her. She was different.
Her mouth opened deeper beneath his. She took a breath.
No. No protests. Not yet, not when he had to stop in just a minute. Wrapping both her small hands in one of his, he let his other hand trace a slow, deliberate path down her body. She was all liquid heat in his arms. Tenth floor, his brain dimly registered. They were on the tenth floor. He still had time.
“Zer,” she whispered into his mouth. No protest. Just sweet, hot welcome.
“Don’t think,” he urged, lifting his mouth from hers. “Just feel. Just for a minute. Close your eyes, and feel for me, baby.”
A minute was all he could afford. The beast in him was already lifting its head, and he knew his eyes were glowing. Her lashes drifted obediently shut.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “See if you like this, baby.”
Sliding his fingers up her creamy thigh, he dipped into her hot, wet sex. Stroked a wicked path around her straining clit and the heat and damp soaking through her panties.
“You’re as wicked as I am,” he rumbled.
“Don’t stop,” she demanded. “Don’t you dare stop now.” Fifth floor. Armageddon couldn’t have stopped him now.
Deliberately, he ripped the panties from her, letting the delicate scrap of fabric slip between his fingers.
Mine.
His mouth swallowed her cry of pleasure, and she rode his fingers hard, arching delicately into his palm. He could feel those sharp flutters of pleasure rippling through her pussy. God, she was coming for him.
He lost himself in her pleasure, opening up all his senses and drinking her down, down, down. She was vintage Champagne, and, like the worst of alcoholics, he didn’t care. He only wanted more of her and wanted that more now.
The man groaned into her mouth, but the rogue growled with satisfaction.
Taking.
Her essence, her soul, flowing from her in deliciously seductive tendrils, and he wasn’t stopping, couldn’t stop.
With an almost imperceptible jolt, the elevator hit bottom, and he moved his hand, but not the rest of his body. The doors glided apart smoothly, opening up on to the club floor, and then it was all Armageddon. Nael’s hands pulled implacably on him, as Vkhin’s weapons left their sheaths with a lethal hiss.
I’m a monster, he thought, and he forced himself to move away. To hug the wall on the far side of the elevator’s narrow cage. Nael’s hands wrapping around the smooth white flesh of Nessa’s upper arms made him growl, low and deep in his throat, and then she was pushing those hands away.
“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” She bit out the words.
As he fought through the red haze of the soul thirst, her too-pale face wavered in front of him. God. Had she swayed? He’d taken too much. If they’d been in a skyscraper instead of a mere twelve floors up, she’d have been dead.
Nael murmured something, low and hard, into her ear, and she turned all that hot anger on his brother. “No,” she said. “Shut up for a minute, and listen to me.”
Brother didn’t like it, but he paused. Vkhin was falling back to the elevator’s perimeter, fingering a throwing star. They both knew that if Zer was truly lost, there wasn’t a blade in the club that could stop him in time. Instead, she’d be the bait that held him in place until they could figure out the best way to take off his head.
“I want to talk to him,” she said, louder. Nael cursed but let her go. She took a step toward Zer and stopped. The rogue raged at being deprived of its feast, but the man was relieved. She was scared of him, and that was good.
“You should kill me.” He stared at her, unblinking, as he finally gave her the truth. “Ask my brothers. They will do it for you.”
“Ask to have you killed?” She looked as if she couldn’t believe those words were leaving her mouth, and he knew he’d stood her familiar world on its head. She was never going back to that safe, mundane world. He couldn’t give her that, couldn’t make that happen for her.
“Yeah.” He nodded his head. “You’re not strong enough to do it youself.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll make a note of that little offer, and, if you ever screw with my life again, I’ll speed-dial Vkhin.”
He eyed her. “You do realize that I almost killed you?”
“No,” she said in that smooth, liquid-chocolate voice. “I didn’t notice that. What I did notice was the hottest damned orgasm of my life. So, no complaints on my part.” She cocked a hand on her hip and glared up at him. “Except for the part where you treat me like a convenience store. I’m damned tired of this touch-me-not thing you’ve got going on.”
Fine. So, she didn’t understand what he was capable of. He’d send her the manual later on. After she’d selected one of his brothers for her soul mate. Then, she’d understand the danger she’d skirted. He didn’t have any soul left to offer her because he was 100 percent cold, hard killer, and even he knew she deserved better.
Scooping up her panties from the elevator floor, he slid it into his pocket. “Souvenir.”
Souvenir. From the French, to remember, he thought, and he stepped out onto the club floor.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cinderella in a ballroom that had taken a darkly erotic turn—that was her. Maybe it should have been enough. God knew, it would have been for most women. Hot sex and an even hotter favor—she should have been all sign-me-up, but instead she was scanning for the exit. An exit that she wasn’t spotting because a hot press of male bodies surrounded her. For just a moment, she felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs by too many bodies crowding into her space, but then Nael’s hand, hot and hard and strangely comforting, found the small of her back. When she hesitated, his thumb rubbed a small, soothing circle over the base of her spine. Anchoring her. She needed to leave, needed to get out of here and reclaim her life. Instead, she took another step out onto the dance floor.
“Guard her back,” Zer snapped. “Midnight,” he warned. “She chooses at midnight,” he growled, and he strode off, leaving Nael and Vkhin flanking her like a damned honor guard. Whom did she need protecting from? Him? Or the clubful of males who turned to stare at her with hot, assessing eyes as she stepped away from the brightly lit cage of the elevator.
“This is not a silent auction. He can’t make me do this.” He couldn’t.
Nael didn’t say anything. Maybe Zer could. Maybe he had some ace up his sleeve she hadn’t considered.
“Come meet them, love. Just take a look. They’ve come all this way to meet you. See you. You can’t send them home now,” Nael finally murmured.
This wasn’t her fault. The twinge of guilt she felt was irrational.
The first pair of males to greet her were pure fantasy, dark and feral. There was no mistaking the strength of the bodies lurking beneath the leather and blades. The dark tats were warning enough.
“Will you dance with us?” The Fallen standing opposite her extended his hand. She stared at it blindly. Dance?
She didn’t dance, not that what she was seeing on the club’s dance floor resembled any dance she’d ever been taught. Liquid sex. A seething pool of bodies moving sinuously together. Male. Female. Human. Paranormal. All tangled up together in a delicious, hot maelstrom of beat and sound.
“No,” she blurted out before stopping to consider her words. “I don’t dance.” Desperately, she sucked in air like a smoker in need of an overdue fix. For an endless moment, the air refused to go down, her throat closing until she would have sworn she was drowning.
A hard hand pressed against the small of her back, preventing her from stepping back into the elevator an
d then the doors closed, and the elevator vanished. For a moment, she was temporarily night blind, aware of nothing but scents and sounds, the bone-melting pulse of the music and the primal slide of leather, blades, and booted feet.
“Dance with them. You do this, Nessa,” Nael said encouragingly. Too bad he hadn’t been the one to introduce her to the Fallen. Maybe then, she’d have wanted to accept their dark offer. She didn’t kid herself that Nael was safe—hell, none of them was safe—but she knew instinctively that Nael genuinely liked women. He wouldn’t hurt her, no matter what it cost him. Nael was nice—and he was alone, despite the female company surrounding him. She shot him a small smile. Yeah. He was a good man, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
“Not too nice,” he warned, reading the message in her eyes. “Don’t ever make that mistake. I’ll take what I can. We both know that.”
His hand urged her forward, and she let herself walk. Each step made her acutely aware of the sensual slide of her dress’s fabric against her bare, heated skin. Of the sexy saunter those four-inch heels lent her. Music washed over her, through her, the driving, electronic beat almost tangible. The unrelenting sound created a strangely intimate cocoon around her and the males nearest her. All moving to the same beat, she thought. The temptation to give in, to blend in, was overwhelming. They wanted her in a way no one else ever had.
So why not dance?
Why not enjoy this one moment before she went back to her everyday life?
Nael urged his sire’s female forward, wishing she’d been for sale like the many females he’d seduced in G2’s. Nessa St. James was different, and, in this case, different meant trouble.
“Dance with me, baby.” He made his request in a low voice that he knew most humans adored.
“This isn’t dancing.” She eyed the dance floor skeptically, but her feet, he noticed, were moving forward, so he was getting what he needed.
“It isn’t?” He eyed two of the nearest Fallen, shaking his head curtly when they moved in too quickly. Nessa was skittish, which meant she was just as smart as he’d suspected.