Warrior Wolf (Protection, Inc 4)

“Absolutely,” Hal assured her. “Destiny is a tiger shifter and an Army veteran. She has shifter strength, she’s a crack shot, she’s very level-headed, and she’s equally comfortable on the streets and in high society. Since you don’t know who’s after you and you want to find out, you’re probably better off with a bodyguard who doesn’t look like one. Destiny can protect you, but as long as you don’t hold hands or anything, anyone who sees you together will assume you’re just friends.”

Hal gave a firm nod, pushing Destiny’s photo closer to Raluca. “Destiny’s perfect for you. And you’ll get along, I promise.”

Destiny did sound good, and Raluca liked the idea of a female bodyguard. She’d had so few opportunities to make friends with other women — or with anyone, for that matter. And while Destiny was casually dressed in the photo, Raluca could also imagine her in an evening gown, perhaps with her hair done up in a more formal style.

Raluca picked up the photo. She was about to say, “I’ll take her,” when she caught sight of the picture beneath Destiny’s.

Curious, Raluca glanced at that one. It showed a young man staring challengingly into the camera, as if he was trying to intimidate the photographer into looking away. His hair was black, his eyes were an unusually intense shade of emerald green, and his muscular arms, which were folded across his chest, were covered in tattoos.

Dragon shifters never tattooed themselves; they were born with dragonmarks, glittering birthmarks the color of their dragon, unique to each individual. Tattooing was a taboo, considered inferior to a dragon shifter’s natural marks. Raluca, used to the beauty and elegance of dragonmarks, had always thought that tattoos were tacky at best.

But this man’s tattoos were different. Raluca picked up the photograph to get a closer look. Tree branches stretched along his arms, some gnarled and ancient, some young and smooth, with each crack in the bark and vein in the leaves depicted with exquisite detail and realistic shading. A slim vine, green as spring itself, twined around one finger.

The tattoos were cut off by his shirt sleeves, but they obviously extended beyond them. Raluca wondered how much of his body was tattooed. If his arms had branches, would his chest show the trunks? What would the muscles of his chest look like under that exquisite tattoo? Would his nipples be covered in leaves, or left bare? Would wind seem to move in the trees as he breathed in and out...?

A noise made her jerk her gaze upward.

> Hal had cleared his throat. “Like I said. Destiny’s the one you want. I’ll call her right now.”

“What about this man?” Raluca held up the photograph.

“Nick?” Hal shook his head. “Not the right guy for this job. I wasn’t even going to show him to you.”

“Is he not available?”

“Oh, he’s available.” Hal seemed to be trying not to laugh, as if he had heard the punchline to a joke that Raluca was too ignorant to understand. It annoyed her.

Icily, she inquired, “Is he incompetent? Unintelligent? Weak?”

“No, of course not. He’s just — Look, you mentioned fancy parties. I assume you mean princess-level fancy parties. That’s not Nick’s style.” Hal chuckled, again seeming amused at some private joke. “He’d be great at the fight clubs, though.”

Her dragon hissed within her. Choose Nick.

Raluca’s dragon was normally very quiet. She’d already spoken more in the last hour than she often did in an entire week. That caught Raluca’s attention as much as her words.

Hal reached for the photo.

Instinctively, Raluca jerked it away from him, clutching it to her bosom. “In formal attire, he would wear long sleeves. Most of his tattoos would be covered. If necessary, he could wear gloves to conceal the rest.”

It would be a shame to cover up those beautiful tattoos, but those strong hands would also look good in black silk gloves. His big knuckles would make a tempting contrast, a suggestion of roughness beneath the elegance. She could almost imagine the smooth touch of his silk-covered hand on her bare arm as he escorted her to the dance floor. After the dance, when they were alone, she could remove the gloves for him. With her teeth, perhaps. Very delicately, pulling gently, her lips brushing across his muscular wrist and the back of his hand in a trailing kiss, taking her time, making him shudder with pent-up desire...

Hal cleared his throat again. Raluca dropped back to reality with a jolt. What was wrong with her? It was completely unlike her to drift into a sexual fantasy in the middle of a business conversation — especially a fantasy of something so completely inappropriate. She was hiring a guard, not a lover. And if she did take a lover, it would certainly not be a tattoo-covered bodyguard. It would someone suited to her station. If not royalty, at least a man from a high-born family. Or perhaps a billionaire.

Though if she did hire this man — Nick — people might mistake him for her lover, as Hal had warned could happen if she was seen with Rafa. The rumor might get back to Viorel. Everyone who had ever known her would be absolutely horrified. Appalled. Disgusted. Furious.

Especially Uncle Constantine. He’d be so enraged to imagine her with this rough, tough, tattooed commoner, he might actually have a stroke.

Raluca smiled. “I choose Nick.”

Hal was shaking his head. “You really don’t know what you’re getting yourself in for...”

Exasperated, Raluca said, “If you have an objection, please state it clearly.”

“You know what, it’ll be easier to show than tell,” Hal said. “I’ll introduce you two. If you still want him once you’ve met him, it’s fine with me. If not, Destiny’s your woman. Actually, this is great timing. He should be —”

The sound of footsteps broke through Hal’s voice. One set sounded much like Hal’s, evenly paced and belonging to a big, heavy man. The other set was lighter, but fast and hard, slamming into the floor like they had a grudge against it. Along with the footsteps came a man’s voice, loud and angry enough to be heard through the door.

“No, I don’t want to take a deep fucking breath,” the man said. “He fucking flipped me off and I didn’t fucking kill him, and when I was fucking alpha I would’ve fucking had to whether I wanted to or not, so that’s all the fucking self-control anyone fucking needs.”