No, of course not.
Well, maybe.
Okay, yes. His stomach lit up with a jungle of stampeding butterflies. He smirked at the mental image and attempted to rein in the nerves. It was just a bite to eat. A quick interlude. A hey-how-you-doing moment where he assured himself that Nadia was fine and dandy, looked well…
Was still unattached.
Still, his.
He gritted his teeth, frustration welled up and he had to get a grip on it, fast. Blowing out his breath, he drew in another lungful through his nose only to be accosted by the fetid stench of the trash. That helped. Some.
The typical dampness of the on-shore flow permeated the city blocking out the light of the moon. An eerie, dark blanket cast shadows against the building and a few motion-sensor street lamps flickered on and off as traffic meandered along the almost deserted street. He glanced around the area and a sense of worry got his feet moving. All he could think about was Nadia walking by herself to the restaurant and someone with evil intentions lurking in the bushes ready to spring. This wasn’t exactly the best neighborhood, like the heavily-gated Flintridge or widely-patrolled Beverly Hills. No, this part of West Hollywood had enough poverty and crime to be worrisome.
He picked up his pace to a near jog, his heart rate increased as he scanned the sidewalk on either side of the entry. His throat constricted as anxiety swelled in his gut.
Well-manicured hedges formed a small patio. He navigated around the area and made his way to the glass door entryway. With a heavy push, the door flung open and banged on the wall. A few patrons at the low counter in front of the kitchen swiveled in their vintage seats to view the source of the commotion. Great, so much for incognito. He gave a delayed wince and tried to assume a stance of remorse
Glancing around the restaurant, it was more than obvious Nadia hadn’t arrived. At this hour, the place seemed nearly deserted. The men at the counter fingered cups of coffee and plates heavily laden with fried foods. One wore a navy-blue jacket with the emblem of a trucking company embroidered on the back. If Nadia didn’t show in five minutes, that man would be Gunnar’s first suspect. He looked hinky; a step below the typical trucker wired on too much caffeine. Disheveled, greasy hair and whiskered jowls long needing a shave accented his sallow features. His brown eyes narrowed to a squint but it didn’t hide the hyped twitching of his pupils.
Gunnar swallowed his growl. No need to be judge, jury and executioner…yet.
He crossed the polished tiles to the hostess’ stand. A woman in wire-rim glasses tapped a pencil to her upper lip where years of cigarette use stained the dusky red with a smudge of black. Greying wisps of loose hair escaped the haphazard bun secured at the top of her head. The brown and white paisley uniform hung off her slender body, the bodice gaping with the pull of her large plastic name tag which flashed the name Perry in dark block letters. She looked like a washed-up ballerina. Tall, willowy, and skin wrinkled with deep grooves, she smiled, but the corners of her mouth didn’t budge. She blinked heavily mascaraed eyelashes at him and leaned one bony arm onto the podium. Gunnar’s preternatural sight gave him a good look at minute scars running up and down the veins around her wrist and hand. Years of hard drug use explained the aged features that hardly matched the youthfulness of her body.
“Well, aren’t you a looker. You can have a seat at the counter, I’ll be sure to take care of you.” Her voice scratched with each inflection, a wheezing rattle echoed at the end of her query. She grabbed a menu and hugged it to her breast as she moved in the direction of Truck Stop Slayer and his posse.
Gunnar didn’t so much as budge. He straightened his spine and stood to his full menacing height. With a grin he didn’t really feel, he tried for amiable charm. “Actually, I’m meeting someone. Wondering if she’s maybe already here.”
The hostess pouted as she backtracked and grabbed another menu.
“Has a female been here in the last fifteen minutes?” Gunnar continued, needing to know if he’d somehow missed her, maybe she was in the lady’s room or something.
Perry’s look showed confusion.
“A woman,” Gunnar amended. He lifted his hand at shoulder level. “She’s about this tall, long brown hair, beautiful…”
“No one’s been here like that.” The hostess glanced around the periphery; her posture gave away what she wasn’t speaking aloud—that the only women that would come to this establishment at the dead of night were those on a drunken bender trying to sober up or prostitutes.
Gunnar didn’t wait for her to continue; he backtracked through the door and headed out to the sidewalk. The vintage signage flashed off and on highlighting the open twenty-four-hour sign. He turned in the direction of the hospital and scanned the street. A slight movement halfway down the roadway caught his notice. By the cadence of the steps and the height of the person, he knew instantly it was Nadia. Without really thinking, he flashed himself to her location.
She let out a little screech as he appeared beside her. With her hand on her mouth, she stifled the muted curse. She swallowed. “Oh my God, Gunnar you scared me.”
Fuck. You dickhead, he castigated himself. “Sorry,” he offered and he tried for an apologetic expression. “It’s the Viking in me. We don’t like females walking all alone in the dark.”
She cocked her head to the side and he noticed the way her hair settled along her shoulders. He’d not seen it down in such a stunning manner. There were little waves curling around her cheeks. His fingers tingled as he thought about running them through the long, thick strands.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Blame it on Hollywood, but that’s not what I’ve come to think of Vikings.” She looked up at him, an eyebrow arched playfully.
He crossed his arms over his chest and made himself stay put—no touching. “And what’s that?”
“They were barbarians.” She shrugged a shoulder, obviously fighting that urge to fully smile. “You know, they pillaged towns and claimed maidens as their prize.” Humor infused her tone but she couldn’t know what the images flashing in his mind did to him. He’d like to pillage the obstacles keeping her from being his and claim her in every way possible—his ultimate prize.
He stared at her, his gaze fixed at her throat where her sweet essence called to the other barbarian within his genetics. That barbarian wanted to take, as well. His gums tingled as his fangs lengthened in anticipation. Fighting the transformation, he cocked his head and exhaled slowly. “Fortunately, you’re in no danger of such a fate.”
With a tentative step, she moved closer. Her fingers drifted across his shoulder and slipped down his arm where the fixator had been. “And if I wanted that fate?” Her whisper had a bit of apprehension, but he detected an underlying hint of excitement.
Hell, he’d oblige. He’d toss her over his shoulder like a Viking on a rampage. And, he wouldn’t stop, not until he’d taken her to his bed, stripped her bare, and done wicked things to her body. Every molecule within his veins prodded him to indulge, but he fought for restraint.
Fingertips settled on his chest, fluttered across his sternum, and the wool of his coat muted the warmth of her touch. He caught her hand and directed it to the side, slipping it under the lapel to the thinner cotton of his shirt. Pressing down, he held it there, right above his heart.
“Would you take me?”
His breath stuttered out and his fangs punched to their full deadly length. The shift in his muscles burned as he battled the fierce compulsions of his inner nature. “Like a Viking?” He paused, licked his lips, and let his tongue travel from one sharp canine tip to the other. “Or Kan Asma?” With his fingers, he captured her face, thumb tucked under her chin as he tipped her head to the side, exposing the elegant pulse points now rushing with excitement. “Because, they are barbarians too, Nadia.” And, I don’t have the strength to fight them anymore, he kept unsaid. Though, he had no choice but to keep his base needs shackled.
The brush of her cheek against his palm
deepened as she leaned into his touch, fully submitting to his hold on her. “Both,” she replied huskily.
Sliding his free arm around to the small of her back, he dragged her into his chest and pressed against the curve of her ass until no space separated them. Rough and demanding, he claimed her mouth, kissing her with everything he had, every need and want, every ounce of his passion unleashed against her lips. Her body arched into him, those small hands latching behind his neck, tugging. Above his collar, nails pricked his skin in an unspoken demand for more.
His mind swamped with images and desires culminating in a need so deep and vast it consumed him. She lifted on her toes to get more of him and he took the offering, lacing his hand through her unbound hair, fisting it tight. Anchored in place, he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue between her teeth, tasting her. “God, Nadia,” he muttered against her lips. “More.”
Without hesitation, she met his sweeping caresses and explored his mouth, sliding the tip of her tongue over his fangs, inciting the beast inside his DNA. Fingers tightening in her hair, he tugged enough to break contact but she fought the breach and slammed her body into his again, arching up until her breasts crushed against his jacket. With gentle sweeps, she brushed her lips across his jaw to his throat where she nipped at the exposed flesh. A groan tore from his throat as he bent close. He tilted her head and she rested her temple on his upper arm, willing and open to anything he so desired. And he desired—her—everything. Suckling the soft skin where her throat and collarbone met, he rasped the spot, drawing it into his mouth and between the sharp points of his teeth. A little shiver racked her body and her fingers flexed at his shoulder before grasping him again. It took all his power to stop but he only drew back a sliver of an inch.
“Take of me,” she begged. “Please, Gunnar.”
The little voice in the back of his brain, the one that kept him from committing acts of treason and murder screamed for him to stop. It shouted obscenities in every language he knew. It bludgeoned him, tossing images of his past into his mind’s eye, and yet, he didn’t care. He didn’t heed the warning.
All he wanted was this female in his arms. “Just a little taste, kjaere.” He didn’t even know if he could stop once her sweet blood hit his tongue.
“Yes,” she tugged at his neck again, insistent, and bold.
Parting his lips, he relaxed incrementally; loosening the chains he’d kept in place to protect her from his inborn nature. His fangs extended, the flesh of his gums stung with a deep throbbing. Bitter tinges flooded his mouth as he dipped to her throat and kissed the pulse points.
Careful. His conscience warned. As much as he wanted to ignore that voice, he couldn’t. The ramifications would be disastrous. They would be…
She jerked up pushing the expanse of her throat against his mouth and his thoughts shut off. There was only one thing left and it was a base need, pervasive. Without holding back, he drew her skin into his mouth, pressed his fangs to the barrier above her vein and pushed in.
“Gunnar,” she called out, her voice cracking on a groan.
The flesh gave and a trickle of warm blood welled up from the punctures. His stomach clenched; hell, how would he stop? How much was too much?
Was this really happening?
Preternatural urges took over and his tongue slid across the flow, lapping at the heady taste. It was powerful, sparking across his taste buds, like the sweetest chocolate, smooth like aged wine, and so fucking good, one sip could cause an addiction.
Her chest rose and fell, her pulse kicking up with each little sip he took. She rubbed against him, her body utterly primed. He could scent her arousal and it drove him crazy with want of a more intimate taking. He wanted her in his bed, beneath him, moving together, united body and soul.
He grabbed her thigh, his fingers pressed in with furious urgency, as he dragged her off balance until the warm apex of her body notched right to where he throbbed anew. The little keening in her chest rumbled through the layers of all their clothes and echoed within him. Lights seemed to flash around them, a kaleidoscope of blue and red, hypnotic. All sound drowned into one humming buzz as her life force slid down his throat and hit his blood stream. Her hand pushed against his shoulder and her quiet voice called his name. “Gunnar, stop.”
No!
Hell, no!
“Gunnar, it’s a cop.”
Ah, shit. The lights and sound—definitely not heaven raining down on them but the freaking Sheriff Department’s bad timing. He slid his tongue over the wounds, quickly sealing them, but he couldn’t do a damned thing about the bruise there or the flush on her cheeks and the obvious sexual arousal coursing off her body. Thankfully, the human deputy couldn’t sense anything except possible crime, it would provoke the animal within Gunnar if another male got even the slightest bit turned on by her growing need—for him.
Only him.
He tucked Nadia into his side, his arm lashed behind her back and he faced the deputy with fangs safely retracted. He didn’t need to play along with any of the inquisition that could happen. Easily, he’d be able to wipe the human’s mind of anything he might’ve seen that didn’t match up with the cop’s safe little reality. Underneath the bravado, Gunnar recognized he owed this man a pass. After all, his unfortunate timing had stopped anything from progressing into the irrevocable territory. Once again, his instinct had been thwarted. That was a good thing. Right?
No!
“Can I help you, Deputy?” He held very still, forcing his transformation to abate.
The deputy curled his hand around the butt of his Beretta and parted his legs in a primed manner, ready to launch forward at the slightest provocation. He narrowed his gray eyes on them, giving them a once over. With his other hand hovering just above the pepper spray can, he bit into his lower lip and inhaled slowly. “Though not illegal, your public display of affection has been holding up traffic and nearly caused a wreck. I don’t give a shit what you two are doing here, but I do need to make sure the streets are safe. You were putting on quite a show and those idiot frat boys over there were happy to get a free screening.” He pointed to a beat up, mustard-yellow Karmann Ghia next to four rowdy guys seated on the curb.
“Sorry, deputy,” Nadia mumbled as she leaned closer into Gunnar’s side. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I just missed him, a lot,” she added and he couldn’t help but grin at the unbridled passion in her tone.
Gunnar nodded. “I missed her, too.” The pitch of his voice was an unmistakable warning. He’d take his female whenever and wherever he damned well pleased.
The cop straightened to his full height of a millimeter over six feet, lifted his square chin and narrowed those knowing eyes on Gunnar. Good, Deputy Goodie Two Shoes had caught the threat, loud and clear: No one got in the way of a Kan Asma male and his mate.
“Let me see some IDs.” He grabbed a small leather notepad from his shirt pocket and a pen tucked right next to his name plate, which boasted JAMESON etched in the shiny gold.
Right, like Gunnar wanted to squander time with this bullshit. He stepped forward making sure Nadia was directly behind him and closed the distance between him and the deputy. Instinct or training had the cop backing up to keep the precise space open in case of contingencies. Gunnar wasn’t going to hurt the pretty-boy, but he sensed the change in the human’s scent. It went from annoyed to hyperaware. This one had a history for sure. Probably had his own war stories to share. Normally, Gunnar would offer the dude a beer and share battlefield tales of his own, tonight he just wanted out of there. Employing super-human speed, it took but a split-second to get right into Jameson’s space, he didn’t need to make eye contact to wipe the man’s thoughts about the incident but he watched the man’s pupils closely, needing to see the moment everything faded away.
“Take your party of two to a private location, sir.”
Now, that was more like it. Gunnar nodded and returned to Nadia’s side. Her fingers found his and curled around his knuckles ho
lding on tight.
“Be safe,” Nadia said as she bit into her lower lip.
“Thank you, ma’am.” The deputy turned on his heel and tucked the pad and pen back into his pocket.
“Come on, let’s go before we cause a real wreck.” Gunnar led her down the sidewalk heading back toward the café. He kept the actual meaning of that to himself. God, he had to stop doing that. He had to stop biting her beautiful throat and tasting her heady essence or the real wreck would be their lives.
Chapter Eleven
Even though she’d gone to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, over heated her hands in the air dryer and counted to a hundred, Nadia still could not stop the trembling in her fingers. The menu shook with the shivering and she finally let it settle on the table top. She felt the hostess’ stare on her back, too, which gave her the willies.
“Why is she looking at me?” Nadia kept her voice low so no one would hear her except Gunnar.
“Because, you’re beautiful.” Gunnar gave her a lopsided grin.
An unladylike snort escaped and she covered her face in humiliation while shaking her head. No way. Especially not right now. Beautiful was every female in the Komar family. Beautiful was the young and vibrant Nathalia Demir with those vibrant red curls and perfect heart-shaped face. Beautiful was not a stocky, overworked nurse in wrinkled scrubs and boats for shoes. She avoided meeting his gaze and stared at the bottom left corner of the menu. The glossy photograph of smothered steak and potatoes started to shimmer as she blinked away the urge to tear up.
Strong fingers latched around her wrist and the pad of his thumb soothed in a small circle. “Look at me, kjaere.”
Attempting her best poker face, she swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed her lips together, slowly lifting her chin to meet his gaze.
“What is it?” he prompted.
Pulling her hand from his, she fidgeted with her cardigan and straightened the vee of her scrubs. “I’m not feeling all that pretty right now.” Honesty felt right, except, it reminded her that she really wasn’t bestowed with the best genes.
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