A devastatingly, dangerous, fallen angel.
A hand shot out, and before I knew it, I’d been hauled inside, the door shutting behind me. My back hit the wall.
“You were fast,” he murmured, leaning into me and bracing an arm above my head.
I cleared my throat, trying to swallow the lump that was stuck. “Fast?”
“Very,” he confirmed, not answering my question one little bit. Blue glinted through the curtain of black hair, watching me.
My fingers itched to trace a path across his jaw; to scrape my nails down the dark shadow clinging to his neck. Heart thudding in my chest, I took a deep breath, centering myself. “I’m Faye—”
“Bastian. But you already knew that.” His lips quirked up in what could only be described as a grimace turned smirk. A sexy smirk.
“Yes. Bastian Jewelcrest.”
The man in question took a deep breath, then his mouth tightened, stretching his lips into thin lines. “Human,” he muttered under his breath, the word so quiet, I almost missed it.
What of it? I bristled at what felt like a racial slur, his tone of disappointment affecting me more than it should.
“Drunk,” I muttered back at him, the near overpowering smell of brandy finally hitting home.
He shrugged. “So what if I am? Doesn’t affect me.”
I pushed away from the wall. “You might think it doesn’t—”
His other arm came down around me, blocking my planned exit. “Sweetheart … alcohol doesn’t affect me at all.” His hips swayed against mine, defining his meaning to perfection.
“Let me see your eyes,” I blurted out, buying time. How the hell was I meant to talk to the guy, when I couldn’t see his face. His whole face.
He stilled before me, his chest rising and falling and stretching his shirt tight. Forearms corded with muscle and dusted with short, dark hairs, surrounded me, the tension radiating from him almost as intense as the heat that rolled off him.
Hot. Steaming hot. That answered one question, at least. Dragon shifters lived up to their name.
A flick of his head and the curtain of hair fell back. Sapphire blue eyes glittered, narrowed against my perusal, lines creeping out at the corner of each eye and digging into his tan. “Do I pass muster?” he murmured, almost squinting at me.
“Pass?” It came out on a breathy sigh, all reasonable and sane thought having vanished under his weighted stare. He was dazzling. Arresting. Dangerous and dark, with his little sexy, brooding scowl.
“I shouldn’t…” his voice trailed off, his gaze dipping to my mouth and lingering.
“Pass muster?” I offered, filling the silence. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t do soft and unsure; I was always in control. Ever since my life had been turned upside down, anyway.
“That as well.” He was talking in riddles, his deep, gravelly voice sinking into me and persuading me not to give a damn. “You’re the first one here though.”
His low mutter cut through the haze of desire that had somehow wound its way around me, ensnaring me with some sort of witchcraft I didn’t recognize. “You were expecting me?” That was not something I had considered, the Shifter Council having assured me that I’d at least have the element of surprise on my side.
He frowned at me, his eyes almost crossing with the effort to stay focused. “Sweetheart, why else would you be knocking on my door?” He leaned in, crowding me against the wall, the scent of man and brandy twining together to fill all available airspace with a sweet, musky smell.
Heat flooded me, pooling low in my stomach and settling in at a slow swirl. My heart thudded in my chest, air puffing out of my lips as I grappled with my last few remaining brain cells, forcing them back into line. I had a job to do, and it didn’t involve fucking the client or interviewee, or whatever the hell you wanted to call him.
“Last chance to run away,” he offered with a predatory smirk. Like he already knew my answer, had read it in the lines of my treacherous body. In my scent.
Shit! He could smell me. Heat flooded my cheeks at the thought of what he must be getting a good ole lung full of right now. No wonder he was surveying me like potential prey, his body poised to strike. Fast. Hard. And with exquisite, single-minded purpose. A moan escaped and I coughed, turning it into an undignified splutter. “Why don’t we get to know each other first?” Then I can figure out what the hell you’re up to…
“Sounds perfect.” His head lowered, a small smile playing on his unfairly gorgeous lips.
Lips that, under any other circumstance, I’d have no qualms nibbling and sucking, but not now. Not him. My hand shot up, bracing against his chest.
He stilled, an eyebrow shooting up in silent question.