She sighed, hating that she actually felt the loss of his fingers on her skin - hating that every single cell in her body was aware of him. He was a good ten years older in years and experience. There were scars. There were the tats. There was the cool confidence and the lines in his face that only seemed to add to his masculine beauty.
She knew what he saw when he looked at her. She'd always looked young, and she was barely twenty-one. He would consider her someone he had to look after, just as Malcom did. That was safe. She needed safe, especially around this man.
"Maybe I am a little afraid of you," she forced herself to admit. "I've seen you in the dojo and you're rather terrifying." That much was true, and if he really was as adept at reading lies, then he'd have to hear the sincerity in her voice.
"That's a place of practice. This is a coffeehouse. Unless you're going to stand up in front of that mic and read off some really bad poetry, I don't think you have a thing to worry about," he assured.
There was a drawling amusement in his voice, one that made her want to laugh with him, but it was as sexy as all get-out, and she couldn't make a noise. Not a single sound for a few seconds. She cleared her throat. "I'm not good at talking to people."
"You talk just fine to Malcom. In fact, you laugh when you're with him. It's the only time I've seen you actually laugh."
Her heart jumped. She tensed and knew he felt it. Still, as hard as she tried, she couldn't relax. Had he been watching her? Why? What did that mean? She bit down on her lower lip, a little afraid that she was so paranoid even such a simple statement could make her want to run.
"Malcom isn't people."
"I know he's your friend," Ridley conceded. "He's very closed-mouthed about you, and protective."
She turned her eyes on him. Fixed. Focused. Alert. "Were you asking him questions about me?"
"Of course I was. You're beautiful. Mysterious. A turn-on in the dojo. When you move, honestly, Kitten, I've never seen anything like it. You're fast and fluid and hot as hell. You put James Marley down with one punch. One. You hit him exactly on his weak spot and dropped him like a ton of bricks. Your eyes are amazing and so is your hair. You have the most beautiful face I've ever seen. Are you telling me Malcom doesn't get asked about you regularly? Women like you don't walk the streets alone at night. That's just asking for trouble."
Her breath slammed out of her lungs. "You followed me?" That couldn't be. She would have known.
"Every night that you lock up and walk back to the warehouse. Did you really think I'd let a woman walk alone at that time of night? Any woman? But especially a woman like you? No fuckin' way."
Something in his eyes made her shiver. Hot. Angry. A flash, no more, and then quickly suppressed. He really didn't like her walking alone at night.
He had been at the coffeehouse every night the past two weeks until three a.m. But she hadn't seen him or heard him or even felt him following her. And that was bad. She couldn't afford to miss a tail. She had a sixth sense about that kind of thing, and yet he had followed her every single night.
"I can take care of myself."
"Cat, even Malcom will tell you that you aren't being realistic. You're good, there's no question about it, but you're small. A man gets his hands on you and you're done. You're smart enough to know that. You can defend from a distance, but if he knows what he's doing, he's going to get past that guard and tie you up. Why don't you drive your car? That would be much safer."
She wasn't about to tell him gas cost the earth. He didn't need to know her personal finances, but she wasn't wasting precious gas when she could walk to and from work. It just wasn't that far.
"It isn't any of your business," she said, and knew she sounded uptight and stiff. Well, she was uptight and stiff. And it wasn't any of his business.
The same flash was there in his eyes. Hot. Angry. Pure steel. Her stomach did another flip. He was both scary and sexy at the same time, a combination she wanted no part of.
"I'm making it my business, Kitten, whether you like it or not. After hours, half the men in here are drunk. Why do you think they're in here?"
"I make a mean cup of coffee and word has gotten around. It sobers them up a little. Coming to Poetry Slam gives them some time to wind down."
He made a sound in the back of his throat that alarmed her. A rumble. A growl. The sound found its way to her heart, kick-starting her into flight mode.
"You can't possibly be that naive, woman. Just in the two weeks I've been coming, the traffic between midnight and three has doubled. Mostly men. They come here because they're hoping to get lucky. They spend the entire time staring at you and trying to think of ways to get you in their beds. A few of them may have figured out that you walk home and they may make plans you aren't going to like and can't do anything about on your own."
She jumped up fast, but he was faster, his long fingers settling around her wrist, shackling her to him. He stood too, towering over her. His fierce golden eyes stared down into her blue ones, just as intense as she remembered, more so even. His gaze cut right through her until she feared every secret she had was laid bare in front of him.
"Don't run from me. I'm telling you the truth. Clearly you're living in a dream world when it comes to men and their intentions."
She tilted her head to one side, forgetting to keep her attitude in check. "Would you like to tell me what your intentions are?" she challenged.
His eyes changed and she knew immediately she'd made a terrible mistake. His eyes went liquid gold, focused and unblinking, locked onto her, and this time there was interest. Real interest. Before she'd been the one locked onto him, playing in her head with silly fantasies, but his motivation for following her had been actually watching out for her - she could see that now, at least she thought she could. Until that moment. That second.
She'd put too much sass into her tone. There was no backtracking from that, not with the stark speculation in his eyes. She forced air through her burning lungs and tugged at her hand to try to get him to release her.
His thumb slid over her wrist, right over her pounding pulse, a mere brush, but the stroke sent hot blood rushing through her veins. She wanted to look away, but there was no getting away from the piercing stare of his eyes.
"Now I'm seeing you, Kitten. And you've got a little bite to you."
"Enough to handle myself if someone decides to attack me on my way home."
"I disagree."
"That doesn't matter," she said, and tugged at her hand again.
His hold didn't loosen. He wasn't hurting her; in fact, the pad of his thumb sent waves of heat curling through her body as it continued to brush little strokes over her pulse.
"It matters to me."
"It isn't your business." Now he was back to scaring her. He couldn't follow her around. Especially not to her home.
She was usually adept at spotting and shaking a tail. She practiced. He couldn't see her practicing. He'd wonder what she was doing and why. She desperately tried to remember if she'd done such a thing in the last two weeks. Usually, after working a full shift, she was exhausted and didn't take the extra time.
"I've decided to make it my business."
His voice was so low she could barely catch the sound, but the tone vibrated right through her body, disturbing her balance. She almost felt as if she was caught in a dream, waking up for the first time, suddenly aware of what real chemistry between a man and a woman was. She was certain she'd been the only one to feel it, and even then, it was just an awareness, not in the least harmful - like her silly daydreams of him.
This was altogether different. Her awareness of him, her reaction, was so strong, almost feral, female reacting to a male on the hunt, wanting him, yet wanting to run. Maybe needing the chase to prove something to both of them. She saw the answering challenge in his eyes. It was impossible not to see.
She shook her head and took two steps back, trying to put distance between them despite his fingers around her wrist. In
spite of the fact that she couldn't look away from him. What was wrong with her? Her lack of control was frightening. She couldn't blow this. She didn't dare.
"I have no interest whatsoever in a relationship with anyone. I don't do one-night stands and I don't date. I don't want attention from you or any other man. I'm asking you politely to let go of my wrist."
She could barely get the words out. There was something, a part of her she'd never known existed, a part of her that didn't want to walk away from this man. He was beautiful. Sexy. Intelligent. And dangerous. Everything a woman might find attractive in a man. Everything she found attractive when she hadn't even known she could be attracted.
He didn't release her right away. His amazing eyes searched hers for a long moment. His face softened, and the male challenge was gone from his hard features as if it had never been there. Instead, he looked gentle. Still holding her wrist with one hand, he retrieved her hat with the other and gave it to her.
"You really are afraid of me, aren't you? I'm not going to hurt you, Cat. No matter what you think, I won't do that to you." His voice was pure velvet, stroking over her skin, low and vibrant and all male, almost a purr. His eyes hypnotized her all over again. They hadn't blinked. Not once. She was watching to see. He was absolutely, entirely focused on her and her alone.
Her belly did a slow roll and her breasts ached. Each separate spot where the pads of his fingers touched her bare skin felt as if he burned a brand right through her skin to her bones.
She hated that she was so susceptible to his voice. To his eyes. She retreated back to the character that always served her so well. She let her eyelashes fall, and nodded as if she understood. She couldn't handle a man like Ridley. She knew that. She didn't dare chance becoming his friend. She wouldn't know what to do with him.
He let her go. The moment she was free of his grip, she pulled her arm to her, pushing her wrist up against her body as if she could hold in the heat from his touch. She sent him one look from under her lashes and hurried past him back inside.
Acknowledgments
No book can be written without a little help along the way. I would like to thank my wonderful power-hour sisters: C. L. Wilson, Kathie Firzlaff, Susan Edwards and Karen Rose! Also a huge shout-out to my power-hour writing son, Brian, for always making me feel that little edge of competition. Oh, yeah, what did that little note you sent to me say??? You were kicking whose booty for that hour???? WHAT??? WHAT??? I DON'T think so!!! As always, Domini, thank you for your help when I need that extra research done right now, and to Brian Feehan for brainstorming to activate the brain cells in a crunch. You all are the best!
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan has over 30 novels published and has thrilled legions of fans with her seductive and sensual 'Dark' Carpathian tales. She has received numerous honours throughout her career, including being a nominee for the Romance Writers of America RITA and receiving a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times. She has been published in multiple languages and in many formats, including audio book, e-book and large print.
Visit Christine Feehan online:
www.christinefeehan.com
www.facebook.com/christinefeehanauthor www.twitter.com/AuthorCFeehan
Christine Feehan's Dark Carpathian Series:
Dark Prince Dark Desire Dark Gold
Dark Magic
Dark Challenge Dark Fire
Dark Legend Dark Guardian Dark Symphony Dark Melody Dark Destiny Dark Secret Dark Demon
Dark Celebration Dark Possession Dark Curse
Dark Slayer Dark Peril
Dark Predator Dark Storm
Dark Lycan
Dark Wolf
Dark Blood
Dark Nights Darkest at Dawn (Omnibus)
Also by Christine Feehan
Sea Haven Series: Water Bound
Spirit Bound Air Bound
GhostWalker Series: Shadow Game
Mind Game
Night Game
Conspiracy Game Deadly Game
Predatory Game Murder Game
Street Game
Ruthless Game Samurai Game Viper Game
Drake Sisters Series: Oceans of Fire Dangerous Tides Safe Harbour Turbulent Sea Hidden Currents Magic Before Christmas
Leopard People Series: Fever
Burning Wild Wild Fire
Savage Nature Leopard's Prey
The Scarletti Curse
Lair of the Lion
Copyright
Published by JOVE
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 2015 by Christine Feehan
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Excerpt from Cat's Lair copyright (c) 2015 by Christine Feehan.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
JOVE(r)
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
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