Now he was confused. He reached his hand out to her. “Shana, I—”
“Please.” She stepped away. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll survive. I always do.”
She moved briskly past him and walked to the door.
“Wait,” he called out. “You can’t just leave. I don’t want you to go. I really need to apologize. I feel horrible about—”
“Don’t,” she said, not even looking at him. “I enjoyed the evening, regardless. I’ll be fine. Just…forget about all of this. Please.”
She pulled the heavy door open and disappeared into the hallway.
With every fiber of his being, he wanted to run after her. To beg her forgiveness. To tell her he’d never hurt her like that again. He’d swear to be more careful with her. Yet at the same time, he knew that was impossible. She made him ravenous with desire. She drove him absolutely wild with her sultry smiles and breathy sighs. Everything about her made him want to crush her to him, as he’d done numerous times because he couldn’t seem to get close enough to her or deep enough inside her.
Which would just lead to more bruises.
Infuriated, he tossed the shirt into the fireplace, knowing he’d never get the scent of her out of it. A worthless effort, really, and a waste of a three-hundred-dollar shirt, because he’d never get the scent of her out of his nose. Everything about her was engrained on his brain and burned into his now-confirmed-damned soul. Causing him to be even more tormented than he’d been before he’d had the privilege of making love to her.
He skulked about, irritated and loathing himself, wondering what the hell to do next. Drake wasn’t the type of man to bury his head in the sand when something needed to be addressed. Especially something this critical, this dire. But his rational mind told him it was best to let her walk away. What did he have to offer her anyway? Pain every time he laid a hand on her, which of course he wouldn’t be able to resist doing. The need to leave her friends behind when he moved on every decade so no one noticed he didn’t age. And, eventually, her mortal death while he continued to live for eternity. That’s what.
The thought of moving on stayed with him as he dumped out the rest of the champagne and the ice that had turned into a pool of water in the chiller. He’d ruminated over the need to pull up stakes if anyone found out about his or Jane’s existence and now that Shana knew… Maybe it was a good idea for him to head back to London for a while. Put some distance between him and the object of his never-ending desire.
He poured a scotch and swirled the amber liquid as he absently rotated his wrist, seeing nothing but her eyes in the bottom of the glass.
Too bad it’d take a couple bottles of booze to dull his senses. Unfortunately, dull wouldn’t be enough. He longed to be completely numb. Then maybe he wouldn’t still feel her soft hair and her supple skin. Maybe he wouldn’t smell the intoxicating scent of her arousal and hear the hypnotic sound of her playful laugh, her sensual begging, her soulful moans.
He had no idea how much time passed as he stared into his glass and wondered how the hell he was going to recover from experiencing the most intense physical and emotional pleasure known to man or vampire when he knew he’d never experience it again. He didn’t know how to move on from here. The burning desire to see her again made it difficult to decide what was right and what was wrong—go to her and apologize again, comfort her. Or leave it be and let her get on with her life without him.
Sensibility told him to let it lie. So he drained his glass and focused instead on what needed to be done to wrap up his business, shut down Body Scenes and return to England.
He wasn’t surprised when the security guard stationed at the elevator that led to his private office phoned him to say Finn Griffith and Yvette Samson wanted to see him.
Letting out a pained sigh, he said, “Send them up, please.”
He reached for his suit jacket to pull it on, though his shirt was currently incinerating in the fireplace. He decided it was moot to put the jacket on—it’d be obvious either way what he’d been up to this evening and it was doubtful Finn and Yvette were arbitrarily dropping in. They were friends of Shana’s, so their unexpected visit wasn’t likely coincidental.
Hoping to keep the conversation congenial, he poured two more scotches and had them in hand as Finn and Yvette entered his office.
His hopes were dashed as Yvette immediately demanded, “What the hell did you do, Drake?”
Holding his sigh in check, he handed over a glass to Finn, who accepted it graciously, then set Yvette’s drink on the corner of the desk. He said, “That’s between me and Shana.”
Yvette, always more than willing to say exactly what was on her mind, told him, “I just saw her downstairs. She was clearly upset, though she wouldn’t tell me why. What happened when she was with you?”
“I assure you, I—”
“She couldn’t get out of this club fast enough, Drake!” Yvette’s temper flared. “She wouldn’t even wait for Finn’s driver. She rushed out and grabbed the first cab that pulled up to the curb, practically climbing in before the other people had even gotten out of it!”
His jaw clenched. He really didn’t need someone else to tell him how deeply he’d hurt Shana. He’d seen the bruises himself and was suffering every conceivable consequence for being the one who’d inflicted them upon her. But he’d obviously also upset her emotionally and that was even more disheartening.
For as territorial as he felt toward her, it’d take all the willpower he possessed not to maim anyone who harmed her. So it was the worst damn feeling in the world to know he was the one who’d done it.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but again, that’s between Shana and—”
Very unexpectedly, Yvette stepped forward and slapped him across the face.
“Yvette!” Finn grabbed her around the waist and pulled her backward, stepping in front of her so he was between her and Drake.
Not that Drake would ever hit a woman, but Finn apparently intended to take any potential retaliation for his girlfrien