by Anne Marsh
Her first clue should have been the expensive town car that rolled smoothly to a stop in front of the tearoom where she worked. Usually, her clientele consisted of foreign tourists who arrived by the busload. The sleek car was as out of place here as she’d been at G2’s the previous evening.
Nevertheless, the vehicle glided to a stop in front of her building, the driver apparently every bit as arrogant as his employer, since he parked blithely in a no-parking zone. Mischka’s eyes narrowed when Brends got out, flanked by two bodyguards.
Hell. It felt good to curse, so she did it again. Out loud. The couple leaving the tearoom eyed her and picked up their pace. Clearly, they wouldn’t be repeat guests.
She couldn’t bring herself to care.
She slammed the reservations book shut. Oh, no, he didn’t.
Looking up with as much nonchalance as she could feign, she eyed him as he strode through the door as if he owned the place. Just as large as she remembered. Just as smoking hot. His broad shoulders stretched the seams of a faded black T-shirt, moving with feline grace beneath a long leather duster. His dark hair brushed the collar, swinging freely in a black, come-fuck-me curtain that made her want to grab his face and hold him still for a kiss.
From the small wave of heated whispers she heard building behind her, there were several other women equally interested in leaving their mark on Brends Duranov. In another minute, he’d be inundated.
She didn’t share.
And he wasn’t a one-woman kind of guy.
“I said what I had to say last night,” she said. He took another step toward her and she threw up a warding hand. “Back off, big guy.”
He didn’t stop coming, so she slipped back around the podium, hoping the furniture would be enough to hold him off. For now.
Slapping both palms down on the smooth wood, his eyes bored into her. “Nothing, darling,” he said in that low, sexy drawl that had her thinking of bedrooms, “will keep me away. I promise you that, dushka, and I always keep my promises.”
His eyes flickered, reminding her that he wasn’t human, even if he was male. He was fighting something, something inside him that wanted out. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be around when whatever it was came out.
“Bully for you,” she said. “Consider your obligations here met.” One slender hand gestured impatiently toward the door. “The door’s waiting for you.”
“You want me to go.”
“He’s quick tonight.” She rolled her eyes. “Absolutely. Go. I’ve had a little ‘me’ time to do some thinking, and, before you entered the picture? I didn’t have any concerns about my immortal soul. My previous offer stands. Fuck. Off. I’ll find Pell all by my little lonesome.”
“Right now, I want tea.”
Was he kidding? Out of the corner of her eye, she spied her manager headed in their direction. Time to speed up Wonder Boy’s departure. “No, you don’t.”
“Seat me,” he repeated, “and we’ll discuss what I want tonight.”
“No.” She wasn’t doing this.
Apparently, whatever had happened in the hours they’d been separated hadn’t left him in a charitable frame of mind either. “No,” he growled low in his throat, as he moved to block her exit. Six-plus feet of hard, hot male standing between her and her exit.
If she hadn’t spent the weeks since Pell’s disappearance worrying about her cousin, she’d have considered exploring the possibilities. Too bad for Brends. It was his loss, as far as she was concerned.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, clearly trying to sound reasonable. Even as he leaned back against the door and made it absolutely impossible for her to go anywhere without his say-so.
“You talked. I listened. And then you wanted to buy me, lock, stock and barrel,” she hissed. Why had she held back earlier? It felt so good to tell him exactly how she felt. And after all, it was his fault. Screw being mature about this. One smoking-hot kiss at his club and he thought he could walk all over her?
“He’s looking for you,” he said cryptically.
“Who?” she demanded.
“The rogue,” he said. “Eilor. The one responsible for the bodies you found. Ming John. My brother, Hushai.”
Her boss reached the podium and she considered the merits of quitting. On the spot. Not only did her boss recognize Brends, but he descended to a level of obsequious charm she hadn’t believed possible.
“Mr. Duranov,” the manager beamed. “It’s an honor. We’ve got a lovely table right in front of the windows. You come right this way and we’ll have you set up right away. If Ms. Baran is—” He paused, clearly not sure what was happening between the two of them.
Brends, the bastard, interjected smoothly. “I’d like Ms. Baran to join me.”
Happy to have the relationship dilemma solved so easily, the manager bustled them over to the table and abandoned Mischka to her fate.
It was stay or go—and she wasn’t naive. If she went, she and her manager would be having a very unpleasant heart-to-heart. Her bank account could handle the sudden unemployment, she reminded herself. So why wasn’t she walking out the door right now?
Because you find him interesting, the small, traitorous voice reminded her. Oh, and you really, really want to fuck him.
“Sit down, Mischka.” Brends patted the seat next to him, and she instantly disliked the expression on his face. Oh, he’d got his way with her boss and now…well, now thought he had something on her. She could see it on his face.
“I gave you my answer last night, Mr. Duranov.”
He shook his head. “Brends,” he said. “We settled that yesterday.”
“Just because you manhandled me last night doesn’t mean we’re on a first-name basis now.” Hell. Had the waiter heard? His beet red face led her to the obvious conclusion that he had. Quitting looked better and better.
“I need to get you out of here. Before Eilor shows up. You think the club and what happened to Ming John was bad?” One hard shoulder shrugged. “Nothing compared to what’s going to happen if he gets his hands on you now.”
“Mmm. Right.” She looked up at him. “It’s been a long day, Brends—a very, very long day. I’m off in twenty minutes and I’m going home. Your killer rogue has no idea who I am and no reason to want me.”
“You won’t be safe there. Not for long.”
She closed her eyes wearily and then opened them. “I’m just not interested in your games tonight.”
“Love,” he said and his hand slid down along her arm, shackling her wrist lightly in a bracelet of hard fingers. “You need to hear me out.”
As he leaned toward her, she caught her breath at the dark promise in his eyes. Deliberately dominating her with his larger, harder body, crowding her backward away from the table until hard edge of her chair bit into her thighs through the thin wool of her uniform skirt. “This isn’t a game,” he warned. “Ming John’s killer, Pell’s stalker.” Brends gestured at the windows in illustration. “He’s been watching you.”
“You can’t know that for a fact,” she pointed out, even though she could hear her heart racing in her ears.
“Oh, but I do.” Brends braced a forearm against the table’s white-covered top and stared over at her, fire burning in his eyes. “We got vid of the alley during the killing. Eilor has a vid-player with your picture.”
That was impossible. Clearly impatient, Brends read the unspoken denial on her face. “You want to sit here,” he continued, “and wait for him to catch up with you, that’s a dangerous decision. You know it. I know it. I can keep you safe.”
“For a price.” A price she’d made it perfectly clear she had no intention of paying.
He shrugged, the heavy weight of his duster flowing around him. “Nothing in this world is free, dushka. You stop holding out on me, and I’ll start helping.”
“Did he have Pell’s picture, too?” Just remembering the scene in the alley had Mischka battling to keep her morning bagel in her stomach and not splattere
d on the floor.
“Yeah, he did,” he said, leaning back and crossing his big arms over his chest. “So what do you want to do?”
What could she do? Brends was one scary bastard and he wasn’t even human. She didn’t trust him. Or her libido. He was too used to giving orders—and having them followed. If she gave in to him, what independence would she have left?
“You find this killer if you want him. All I want is Pell,” she finally said.
“We find her, and we find the killer. And trust me, love, I’ll find her.”
“In time? And in one piece?”
“If you’ll help me.” His eyes promised she’d be giving so much more than help. “Bond with me, and I’ll help you. I’ll keep you safe.”
“I don’t need anyone to keep me safe.”
“You will. Your Pell is headed straight out of town. I’ll tell you that one for free. You wouldn’t last a day outside M City, and it would be irresponsible of me to let you try.” He gave her a slow, heated smile.
He reached out, slid his hand through her hair, holding her head still for his kiss.
Despite the leashed violence of his body, the visible tension thrumming through him, the kiss was gentle. His lips pressed against hers. Resting. Waiting. Silently demanding entrance.
“Let me in, dushka,” he growled when she hesitated. His thumb traced the damp seam of her mouth and she parted beneath his touch, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick him. He bit back a curse, his breathing growing rougher as he wrapped an arm around her and slid her up against the heat of his body.
“Give me your bond.”
“Bond?” she gasped as her body betrayed her, melting in liquid welcome.
His knee nudged gently at her thighs. Coaxing her to part.
“Bond with me,” he promised. “I’ll keep you safe.” His gaze drilled into hers. “Why not take what you want, baby?”
“Because,” she said a little desperately as she put some space between them, searching for the right words. She shouldn’t have to convince him that she was right. Because she was. You simply couldn’t go around taking pleasure. Not the way he did. And not even—that secret part of her admitted—if you really wanted to. Convincing a fallen angel to behave was a Sisyphean task that she wasn’t sure she was up to. “Because you just can’t, Brends. It’s not right.”
“Why not?” he repeated. This time, when he looked at her, his eyes went all molten gold on her, the thick, rich color of sex. “A little pleasure never hurt anyone. So why deny yourself when you want it?” Want me hung between them in the air.
“I have responsibilities.” Pelinor was out there somewhere and Mischka couldn’t afford any distractions. “I need to find my cousin, Brends.”
He shook his head. “She’s a big girl. Why should you have to go looking for her? Maybe she doesn’t want to be found. Maybe she’s decided to explore a little pleasure for herself.” Unlike you. She heard the words even if he didn’t speak them. The male sprawled next to her was the picture of sensual decadence. And yet she knew he could pull a weapon faster than any member of the MVD. He wouldn’t hesitate to strike, either.
But she couldn’t stop herself from staring at those hands, wondering what they would feel like stroking over her arm. Tracing an erotic path from the bare skin of her forearm along the bone to more private, hidden places.
“You want to,” he said confidently. “You’re tired of going through life without knowing.”
“Knowing what?” She was a healthy woman. So she had fantasies. She was strong enough, disciplined enough, to keep those fantasies in her mind where they belonged. She was not going to share them with this fallen angel. Plus, since he’d fallen, he’d clearly made mistakes. Chosen wrongly.
She didn’t make those kinds of mistakes.
Ever.
And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about the fantasies. About him.
“You’re a good girl,” he said, and that low, hot drawl made her think of bedrooms, damn him. “You’ve probably always been a good girl—but you want to be bad, Mischka. You want to find out what it’s like, even as you want to rescue your Pell more. What if there was a way for you to have both wishes?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No, you’re not at bad girl at heart, or no, you no longer care what happens to this cousin of yours?”
He had to ask? Clearly, the Fall had knocked all sense of honor and moral decency out of him. Looking at him, she saw 100 percent bad boy, all hot, sexy and hard.
“Being there for Pell is the right thing to do.”
“Right.” He nodded sagely. “And you always do what’s right. Good girl.”
“Yes.” He didn’t have to make it sound so prissy. Doing the right thing was, well, right. She shouldn’t have to defend those kinds of choices. Not from his sort. He, on the other hand, clearly reveled in his bad choices.
“Because she’s your cousin,” he guessed. His hands stroked the fragile stem of the crystal flutes set out on the table.
“She’s family.”
“And family looks out for family.” The dark eyes examined her. “It’s a lovely sentiment, baby. Very right. I’m sure you’ll find it satisfying.” His tone said he doubted it.
“Doing the right thing? Yes. I will.” She wouldn’t let him see her doubts. “Someone has to look out for Pelinor, make sure that she’s safe.”
“And you’ve elected yourself. Personally, I’d leave her to make her own choices. Her own mistakes. But ruthlessness is a quality you lack, dushka.” He made it sound like a character flaw. “You’d have to come out of that pristine ivory tower of yours and be ruthless.”
“You don’t think I can do mean?” She could, couldn’t she?
Across the room, a woman’s head swiveled, clearly mesmerized by the male before her. Mischka fought an unexpected urge to claw.
“No, dushka, not a chance. You like it nice and tidy. Follow the rules, that’s what you do. You don’t hurt others. You don’t chuck them away when they become a liability, when they can’t help you get where you need to go.”
“You’d like that. One more piece of human fodder for your fellow Goblins.” She didn’t like the bitter tone in her voice. She liked doing the right thing. Didn’t she?
“No. Not particularly.” He smiled, a dark wicked smile that she knew better than to trust. “But we’ve already established my preferences. I like to make mistakes. Or”—he shrugged—“I’m happy to settle for flat-out sin. Have you considered, though, that you’re missing out on a valuable opportunity?”
She fought the urge to hit him. Hitting him would also be a mistake. Then he’d know that she could be an animal just like him. Deliberately, she laced her fingers in her lap. “What I want is to find Pelinor. And I want you to help me.”
“You know my price.”
“This isn’t a personal favor. This is the right thing to do.”
“I’m not sure it is.” He shrugged. “And it is personal. It’s what you want. If you want to go riding to the rescue of someone who hasn’t asked you to stick your holier-than-thou nose into her business, I’m not going to stop you. But I’m not going to help you, either. Not unless you make it worth my while.” His smile, when it came, was slow and hot. “Very worth my while.”
“You don’t know where she is.”
“Do you?” he countered.
“I simply want to pool our information. Share our resources.”
“No, what you want is to take advantage of my Fallen status. All those special skills Michael gave my kind. You want to use me like a hunting bitch to track your wayward cousin. I don’t mind, baby, but I don’t work for free. You pay my price and we’ll find that cousin of yours. You refuse and you can be on your way. This is my world. My rules.” He dropped his mouth to hers for a searing kiss.
“Games,” she said—and nipped lightly at his lower lip. His head didn’t move, even when her teeth broke his skin and the bright blood beaded the torn skin. “I’l
l make the left side match the right,” she threatened.
“Promises,” he purred. “Does that mean you’re coming with me?”
“No.”
“You forgot your book at home, baby.”
The warm look in his eyes warned her. Whatever he was about to reveal, she wasn’t going to want the entire tearoom seeing—and most of the room’s female occupants were already craning their heads, trying to see what was happening at their table.
He slid the book across the table to her as her boss came scurrying up with a large tea tray. “Compliments of the house,” he said, and beat a hasty retreat.
She wrapped her fingers around the volume. He’d been in her flat. That was her book. She steadfastly refused to read the title. She knew what he’d found, what she was holding. “Go away. I don’t want you here.”
“You will,” he said confidently, “but you need to start using logic, baby. Forget about feelings. They’re just going to get in the way.”
“And aren’t you the cool one,” she snapped. She did use logic, and logically speaking, trying to bargain with Brends was, well, rather like trying to bargain with the devil. When she tried to rise, his hand snapped out and shackled her wrist.
“Sit down,” he said coolly in a voice colder than the choppy waters of the Moskva river. He meant business now.
“You want to get me fired?” Although given the way her boss was kissing up to her unwanted companion, staying seated might not be a bad way to keep her job.
“No.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “But I do want you to listen to me.” He let go of her wrist. “We got off on the wrong foot last night.”
“Really.” She stared at him. “So you don’t want to fuck me senseless and/or purchase my soul from me for an as-yet-unspecified favor. That’s a relief and I appreciate your making the trek all this way into human turf to tell me so. Now, leave.”
He shot her a look. The woman two tables over looked like she was going to come in her seat. Lovely. “That offer still stands. I haven’t changed my mind about wanting you and I still think we can help each other out.”