Jordana held his stare for longer than he would have guessed she could. Longer than any woman would have dared, if she sensed the dark direction of his thoughts.
Her full lips parted on an indrawn breath as she looked at him, but she said nothing. She gave him nothing, standing there unmoving, her eyes locked on his as the music from the gallery began again and the reception resumed around her. Conversations buzzed once more, the crowds of museum patrons already putting the night’s interruption behind them.
And still those ocean-blue eyes refused to let Nathan go.
It wasn’t until the Breed male at Jordana’s side cupped her bare nape in his palm that she finally glanced away. She smiled pleasantly at her companion, gave him a small nod. Then he took her hand and gently coaxed her back into the fold where she belonged, with the rest of the gilded elite.
3
ALTHOUGH SHE KNEW IT WASN’T WISE, JORDANA COULDN’T KEEP from glancing over her shoulder as she was led away from the scene of the night’s disruption.
Nathan was still there.
Still watching her, his eyes simmering beneath the harsh black slashes of his brows, intimate and penetrating amid the very public throng of museum patrons. The massive Breed warrior was a study in darkness and intensity, from the severe cut of his military-style ebony hair, to the impossibly broad shoulders that topped a body honed of pure muscle and powerful, deadly menace.
Even his face was severe, if devastating, in its rugged male beauty. Fathomless dark eyes stared out of a face carved with a blade’s precision. High cheekbones, proud brow, a squared, rigid jaw. His mouth was his softest feature by far, sculpted and lush, generous lips that called to mind all sorts of wicked ideas, even for a woman of Jordana’s limited experience.
Nathan exuded a confidence few men seemed to possess. Perhaps that was why not even one male in the room made any move to confront him now. The women, however, practically vibrated with interest.
Not that Nathan seemed to notice any of the attention he drew.
He stared solely at Jordana. There was no mistaking the heat in his dark gaze; he looked ready to devour her. As if the thought of the crowd around them was of no consequence to him whatsoever.
Jordana struggled to find her breath under the weight of that piercing gaze. Her senses were keenly, instantly aware that if this powerful Breed male—this warrior she’d so foolishly kissed the other night—were to decide he wanted something from her right now, not even the hundred men in the museum tonight would be able to keep him from her.
Even more alarming was her heart’s reaction to that idea.
Save me, her pulse seemed to drum in her veins.
Take me.
The thoughts caught her unaware. Startled her, they were so unbidden and ridiculous.
Save her from what?
Take her where … or how?
Her body answered that question with a warm throb deep in her core. The memory of their brief kiss replayed in her mind, only her imagination embellished the details now, turning an impulsive meeting of their lips into a passionate tangle of mouths and limbs and sweat-sheened, naked bodies.
God.
What was wrong with her that her mind would wander onto such a disturbing path?
And yet a swift, intense craving bloomed inside her as the mental picture filled her senses with an aching, terrible desire.
“I don’t like the way he’s looking at you.”
The baritone voice, muttered from close beside her, snapped Jordana out of her unwelcome musings like a splash of cold water to the face. She glanced away from dark, unsettling Nathan to blond, familiar Elliott Bentley-Squire, her self-appointed protector and date tonight. His handsome features were pinched into a disapproving frown. “What do you know of that warrior, Jordana?”
“Nothing,” she blurted, flustered by Elliott’s notice and the still-burning sense of Nathan’s eyes on her. Although her answer wasn’t quite a lie, it left a bitter taste on her tongue. She shook her head and gave Elliott a vague shrug. “I don’t know him at all.”
“Good. Trust me when I say you wouldn’t want to know that one. It’s no secret that he’s a killer, Jordana. One of those laboratory-raised monsters the Order seems so willing to recruit into their ranks.”
As Elliott steered her farther toward the museum guests, Jordana chanced another look back to where Nathan stood.
He was gone.
Why that should disappoint her, she didn’t even want to guess.