She took a deep breath and her lungs protested feeling tight and constricted. Since her own childhood, she’d been lectured about her status, her parents’ expectations for her, and even the day she chose her mate. There was nothing fanciful in what her parents conditioned her to expect. They were at the bottom of the middle class. And they wouldn’t be climbing any higher…ever.
Since her father lost his graveyard shift at the refinery when the economy took a nosedive, they’d never recovered from the loss of his salary. Her nan had no employable skills and took the role of housewife with absolute sincerity. Now, much of the financial responsibility fell on Nadia’s shoulders. A burst of envy soured her stomach when she imagined the coddled life Anastasya Komar lived.
Right, only fairy tale princesses had rags to riches stories. She was definitely no vampire Cinderella.
She rubbed the hem of her scrub top between her finger and thumb in a soothing action. Not wanting to meet the scrutinizing gaze of Izak, she stared at the linoleum. The faint geometric pattern blurred and her eyes stung. Strong fingers settled on her shoulder and she blinked clearing the fog from her thoughts. Plastering a professional smile on her face, she tilted her head and glanced at the big strong male. “Izak?”
The rough pad of his thumb traveled along her collar bone in a slow lazy circle. “The freedom Andros speaks of is a pipe dream, but that doesn’t mean we can’t experiment.”
“With what?” she asked softly still dazed by her own private ruminations.
He stepped in front of her. His large body put off unusual warmth. He brought his thumb up higher to her throat and trailed his nail upon her pulse point. “No one would need to know. We could just step over the line a little bit.”
What the devil was he talking about? Heat sparked in his eyes as he moved even closer. He lifted his other hand and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. Her confusion rapidly turned to understanding. She shook her head and tried to pull away without acting rude or abrupt. “I’m sorry…”
His calloused fingertip pressed against her lips cutting off her words. The contact startled her and she couldn’t get her brain to work.
“Andros might be a total moron but he has a point. I don’t want to wait for some embossed decree demanding me to open my vein, give a sample of blood to become a blood-mate candidate.” Two of his fingers skated down to her chin. A nudge from his knuckle tipped her head back until she was staring at his harsh, masculine face.
Her stomach twisted with nerves. This was so wrong. Somehow, Izak had gotten mixed signals from her and she needed to stop this before it went any further. She set her palm to his chest and with a little pressure kept him from getting any closer. “We can’t do this.”
Little lines creased the sides of his eyes. “Our people aren’t afforded the right to find love or act upon a mutual attraction. It’s barely consensual, but I can give you a taste of passion. Bring us both a small glimpse of pleasure. I won’t compromise your purity.”
Was he being serious? Nadia’s breath tangled in her throat, she opened her mouth hoping some coherent reply came out.
“Mother-fucker!”
Stiffening, Nadia shook her head and jolted at the shouted expletives. She looked at Izak double checking that he hadn’t been swearing so foully at her.
“Godamnedsonofabitch!”
No, that wasn’t Izak.
Without thinking, she rushed across the lobby. Her heart beat against her ribs in a hastening cadence as she crossed the long hallway where Andros had been taken. She ran toward the sound of such pained cursing. Every feminine instinct within her demanded she hurry. Again, the slew of vitriolic swears reverberated through the physical therapy suite. Heart thudding, she raced to where the swearing was loudest.
With a jolting halt, she grabbed the curtain blocking the second treatment area and yanked it open. The sight before her eyes resonated deep inside her. And, before she could stop herself, she grabbed a shaking, sweaty hand. Even though her mouth went dry, she managed to whisper his name. “Gunnar.”
The grizzly scene twisted her stomach and gooseflesh prickled her arms. Bloody gauze peppered the floor. Blue treatment squares were shoved under his injured arm, the absorbent white sections now stained vibrant red. Blood ran down his arm to his elbow and dripped onto the absorbent pad. Scattered all over the suite were metal tools and steel rods. The physical therapist stood before Gunnar with a furious grimace.
Nadia assessed Gunnar’s condition. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trailed down the side of his face. His elongated fangs warned of imminent danger. The muscles in his biceps quivered and the cotton of his sky blue T-shirt pulled against his chest.
“He missed yesterday’s appointment. The fixator’s jammed due to rapid healing.” The P.T’s chin set and he narrowed clinical eyes on Gunnar. “Need him to just breathe through the process so I can adjust the settings.”
“Fucker’s turning me into a Cylon.” Gunnar shot the other male a vicious glare.
Nadia’s eyebrows cocked up. “You watch too much of the SyFy channel.” She shook her head resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to allow the painful procedure without resistance. “I know you were instructed not to miss your appointments because I wrote the orders myself.”
He actually looked sheepish. Adorably sheepish. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and just hold him. Fighting that insane urge, she bit into her cheek and tried clearing her rampant thoughts about embracing him, touching him, kissing him. She resisted the impulse to groan at the direction of her thoughts. Pressing her lips into a firm line, she squeezed his hand in reassurance. “It won’t take long. Focus on something and get it over with.”
He took in a deep breath, his shoulders lifting with the inhalation. “I’ll focus on your lips, imagining how they would feel on mine.” He clenched his jaw, silencing anymore of his heated whisper.
Her throat went tight, breath tangling there as she thought of his provocative words. “Gunnar,” she managed to prompt.
Resigned, he set the fixated arm on the treatment area. Their eyes met and she saw so much emotion in his deep blue gaze. She could hear the therapist working, dropping little metal tools onto the workspace. Gunnar flinched and she squeezed his hand tighter.
“Hell!” He bit out through gritted teeth.
She stepped closer, set her other hand on his shoulder and stroked across the tension, massaging it with her fingers. Time stilled, everything paused, and the heady masculine scent of his skin wafted around her, enticing and volatile.
“Done.” The physical therapist wadded up the absorbent pads, scooted the stool back and stood with a jerk. “This was the last session. Make an appointment to have the fixator removed.” He didn’t wait to say goodbye, instead he rushed out of the space, swiping at the curtain to get it out of his way.
“Nadia.” Gunnar’s gravelly voice raked over her with currents of heat.
Lifting her chin, she watched him closely, noticing the small changes around his eyes and mouth as the strain bled away, turning to something hotter and more potent.
The grip of his hand lessened as he set his fingers on the sensitive flesh of her inner arm. He ran his fingertips up so slowly to the crook of her elbow. Those strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm and pulled her close. He spread his jean clad thighs, inviting her near. She took a step and another until only an inch separated them. “With your hands on me, I can endure anything. Touch me, Nadia.”
“Where?” she asked, breathless and provoked.
“Anywhere…everywhere.”
She slid her hand down his chest, feeling the hard muscle compress under her palm. His heart beat steadily. Deep breaths expanded his ribs. Warmth assailed her as she ran her fingers over the dips and valleys of his corded abdomen.
“Yes. More,” he encouraged.
“What the hell?”
Izak’s voice was like a torrent of ice water sluicing over her head and dousing her skin. She back-pedaled moving away f
rom Gunnar with a jolt. Her heel caught on a towel and her arms flapped as she tripped. The room whirled and gravity pulled her down. She braced for the worst.
Except, she didn’t land on her backside with a hard crunch. It took a moment for her brain to catch up to the status of her body. Once her mind cleared of the wooziness, she rapidly went from anxiety to something else entirely—need and desire.
Sure fingers curled around her hip, flexing and pulling her close. A steely arm supported her lower back. And, an unyielding chest pressed against her breasts. The air tangled in her lungs but the scent of him still managed to wrap around her inundating her senses. An ache formed in her heart. It beat hard and fast, an erratic vibration she couldn’t calm.
“Nadia, I have you.” He called her name again, his accents clipped and rough. Predatory eyes watched her closely, intent on their prey. Those impossibly blue eyes burned hot and eager. He blinked and kept his eyelids at half-mast, yet, it didn’t hide the fire burning in his gaze. The tip of his tongue trailed across his teeth, pausing at a sharp, wicked fang.
Shifting onto her feet, she placed her hand on the upper curve of his arm, steadying herself. The muscles firmed under her palm, the heat of his skin came through the thin layer of his shirt and warmed her palm.
Gunnar’s head slanted closer, unbearably closer. Nadia mirrored the motion with her own head, lifting on her toes to close the distance faster. Yearning to feel his mouth on hers, his lips covering hers, desire clouded her thoughts. Holding on to Gunnar was all that mattered. She exhaled, tense and eager. He drew her breath into his lungs. When his ribcage expanded, his chest brushed her breasts with fleeting contact. Magnetic and charged, they were drawn to each other with invisible chains. She parted her lips, kiss me, please. The unspoken plea bounced around her thoughts, enticing her to want just what she asked. Her mind clamored for his possession. “Gunnar,” she murmured his name, a siren’s call, utterly passionate and in complete surrender.
Time stilled. Her awareness latched on to Gunnar completely. A thrill coursed through her veins, flooding her body with excitement. His warm mouth touched hers. Oh God, please.
“Get your fuckin hands off her, Nakani.” Izak’s arm wedged between them like a crowbar as he shoved Gunnar back.
An ominous, wicked growl reverberated in the small space. Slow and calculated Gunnar turned to face Izak, pushing Nadia behind his body with a supernatural speed. “Leave now before I throw you out on your ass,” he warned Izak, his seething tone brooked no argument.
Izak’s dark eyebrow quirked. “You’ve no authority over me. I’m charged by the Komutani to keep Nadia safe. You’re posing a danger to her person.” He pulled a set of handcuffs from a pouch on his belt. The manacles clanked loudly and smelled of gun oil. They were a throwback to the dark ages, except the thick forged links between each clasp were a shiny metal. Nadia recognized the titanium as nearly impenetrable, even to those of the Kan Asma. She’d seen one of the kraliyet guards use the handcuffs before. He’d employed his híbe to solder the manacles closed.
“Since unnecessary force is prohibited in the hospital, I’d be happy to cuff you and haul your ass out of here but I see you’re disabled and weak. I don’t mess with invalids.” Izak’s brown gaze filled with superiority. He focused on Gunnar’s transformed face and sent a meaningful glower at the fixator.
A split second passed and a whoosh was her only warning Gunnar had moved. In a blink, Gunnar pinned Izak to the pressed wood cabinet with his good arm. “I said leave,” he repeated this time in a deadly snarl as the lights flickered with a zap.
Nadia held her breath and curled her fingers into her palms until the nails pricked the tender skin. An altercation between the two males— simply because she slipped and ended up in Gunnar’s arms, pressed to his body, so damned close—wasn’t on her daily agenda. It seemed like a scene out of a soap opera, but instead of saying something profound and breaking up their posturing, Nadia quickly slid out of the room, running away like a coward. She speed-walked down the long hallway to the stairwell, pushed open the heavy steel door and grabbed the stair rail, bracing herself in place. A tremor tightened her body and her teeth chattered. Pressure in her skull warned of a headache or an emotional breakdown involving a much needed cry. Licking her dry lips, she straightened her spine and forced herself to move down the stairs. She’d send an orderly to get Andros while she hid out in the break room, hopefully gathering her wits as quickly as possible.
Chapter Seven
All the pain in his arm vanished the moment he’d held Nadia. God damned but she felt perfect against his chest. The subtle yet alluring, natural scent of her skin roused him to want more of her. And that mouth, those pouty lips, the soft exhalation of her breath feathering out and teasing him beyond sanity, pain, and… Hell, it all knocked him for a loop. He hadn’t even heard that moron, Izak, walk in, and the Council goon almost had his head ripped off for stupidly intervening.
“Maybe I should have a discussion with my boss about your sub-par competence,” Gunnar warned, and his tone promised retribution.
Izak rammed his elbow into Gunnar’s sternum, the force of the strike reverberated through his body but he ignored it.
“Maybe I should tell the Kartal of your unauthorized seduction of a mate-ready female.”
Nope, no way he’d take Izak’s bait. He’d done nothing to compromise Nadia, well, at least not today. He flexed his injured arm, rolled his wrist and tested the strength level. Typically, he’d be able to take Izak with little more than a thought and some muscle, but he didn’t want to do something idiotic in front of Nadia. So far, he’d managed to act like a total dumb-ass around her. It’d be much better to show her that he could employ restraint and act civilized. He tucked his chin down and glared through the veil of his eyelashes evoking a don’t-mess-with-me vibe. Right now, his híbe skill would come in handy. He could pull some electricity from the nearby panel and give the sentinel the shock of his life. Except, Gunnar’s current weakness made it a challenge, and employing his talent would drain him to near empty. Tomorrow, he’d get that damned cybernetic device off and directly after, he’d hit the weights, work out the kinks, and replenish himself with a good, long feeding. From Nadia, his internal demons prodded. And, he didn’t even bother to argue with them.
After straightening his spine, he stepped backward and rolled his shoulders, watching Izak for any sign the guard would react and try to do something unwise. He took in a long breath and held it. Then, his receptors only registered traces of Nadia’s scent. Traces. Which meant, she’d left the room while he and Izak engaged in their little tussle.
Fuck!
“Stay out of my business, Izak,” Gunnar warned coolly before releasing the sentinel, pivoting on his heel and striding out of the therapy suite.
The sentinel ignored the warning and paced beside Gunnar, wordless and aloof. Until he punched open the double doors and took long strides around Gunnar. Izak came to a hard stop right before him. “Tell your boss that shit has been stirred up by that little fucktard, Andros. He’s yapping about uprisings and bucking the system.”
Gunnar narrowed his eyes and dragged a hand through his hair. The typical spikey crew cut had grown out and resembled something more like the GQ pretty boys on the cover of a modeling magazine. Making an appointment to buzz the haphazard mess would take care of that frustration. Now, to deal with this one. Of course, life never worked simply. Always had to contend with something new cropping up. “Uprising sounds a whole lot more worrisome than his last little temper tantrum.”
Izak scowled. “I hate the dregs of our society.” His words sounded right, supportive but an underlying thread of contention laced the clipped pitch of his accents.
Since he too came from a mismatched union, dregs and upper crust, Gunnar had the distinct urge to cold-cock Izak, but employed miraculous restraint and ignored the jibe. “So does everyone with nearly pure blood. Why does this even apply to me, or better yet, Traian? What’s tha
t gnat crying about now?”
With a noncommittal shrug, Izak scratched his cheek and tapped his index finger to his lips. “Before or after he tried to feed from Nadia and asked for her to give him a sponge bath?”
Fiery red anger clouded his vision. “What the fucking hell are you talking about, feeding from Nadia?”
Taking a step to the side, Izak leaned indolently against the wall, a booted foot supported along the baseboard. “She was oblivious. His híbe skill is projecting. He put out a vibe that he was too weak to move and that prompted Nadia to help him. She never saw his fangs or felt his attempt. It’s why one of us must be there when any of the female staff are with him. Andros poses a risk in more ways than one. Lucky for Nadia, I was on duty. I had the distinct pleasure of boxing his ears with my fist.”
The flesh above Gunnar’s fangs tingled and a bolt of heat zinged around his gums. The tips of his canines elongated. Slow breaths, easy, don’t lose it now, he warned himself. “Get to the point.” Later, he’d do something to make sure Andros had zero contact with his female. There’d be no chance of another incident like that one, which meant no more of Izak’s smart mouth either. Good.
“He mentioned something about tyranny and finding another way.” Izak hitched a thumb into his utility belt with a look of deep thought on his face. “Another thing, he dangled the right to find true love, waxed on about mating with whomever. Nadia was enthralled.”
Gunnar could imagine just what she’d been considering. Most likely, the same thing he thought about right now. Nothing would make him happier than to do something so human as asking her to be his. A foreign emotion buried deep inside him goaded that she’d say yes, emphatically, but that’s not how things worked in their world. “Andros is deluded.”
Mated in Treason Page 8