“What do you want, Zael?” She frowned, folding her arms militantly across her chest. “And just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, barging into my private quarters like this?”
At the moment, the only thing he was doing was staring at her, slack-jawed and instantly aroused. She stood in front of him half-dressed in just her white button-down shirt she’d worn that night in London. Her long legs were bare, exposing the delicate swirls and flourishes of her Breed dermaglyphs that tracked down her slender thighs. The silky stems with those pretty, feminine glyphs seemed to go on forever.
Beneath the loose hem of her blouse, he caught a tantalizing glimpse of skimpy black panties and more creamy skin. God, she was beautiful. Exotic and strong and exquisitely female.
She was also visibly pissed off. At him?
“What’s going on here, Brynne?”
She stood her ground, glowering at him. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting dressed.”
From where he was standing, it looked like she was getting undressed. And there were certain parts of his anatomy that approved of that idea very enthusiastically.
“You said you’re leaving.”
“Yes. I have to go back to London. That’s where I belong.” She turned away and began buttoning her shirt the rest of the way as she stalked to the bed. The pair of dark navy slacks she’d been wearing the other night lay folded there. Her shoes and purse were gathered nearby as well. “I mean to be on that plane with Mathias Rowan and the others later today.”
Zael frowned at the announcement. “Don’t you think we should talk?”
“About what?”
Was she serious? He didn’t even know where to begin. “About this new Opus attack. About where you and I fit into the equation with the Order. We sure as hell need to talk about what’s happening between us.”
“Nothing’s happening between us, Zael.” Sharp words, delivered with a flare of amber in her dark green eyes as she threw a hard glance at him from over her shoulder. “As for the rest of it, you heard Lucan and the other warriors just now. You saw what’s going on all around us. The whole world is going to hell right now.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And it’s going there regardless of what takes place between you and me.”
She scoffed. “You’ll say anything to get what you want, won’t you? Is that how all the men of your kind operate? I suppose that explains all of the fatherless offspring you and the rest of your Atlantean brothers have left around the world.”
Zael’s jaw hardened at the jab. It wasn’t completely without merit, but he also saw it for what it was. A defensive strike, meant to push him away.
She pivoted away from him again, as if she was finished with their conversation and finished with him. Maybe that ice-cold shoulder had been enough to shut out all of the other men who tried to get close to Brynne, but not him.
He’d seen the desire in her eyes when they had nearly kissed today. He’d felt her soften in his arms in that moment, not only resigned to the need that they both felt, but consumed by it with the same intensity that it owned him.
She flinched when he came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened under his touch, but he could feel the heavy spike of her pulse, and the sudden, rapid rhythm of her breathing. “If you’re so hell-bent on running away, at least be honest about it. You’re running away from me.”
“I’m sure you’d like to think so.”
“No, Brynne. I don’t want you to run away from me.” He swore, low under his breath, and he turned her around to face him. Her mouth was set in a firm line, but her glittering eyes softened as he held her. “I should be glad that you want to run away from me, from this. I should want that as badly as you seem determined to go.”
To his astonishment, she trembled as the seconds stretched out between them. Bold, defiant, hard-headed Brynne stared at him in silent trepidation. She licked her lips, and he glimpsed the sharp white points of her fangs.
“I told you earlier that I didn’t want anything to do with you, Zael.” Desperation crept into her voice. “Why can’t you accept that? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because every time I look at you, I see the same desire in your eyes that I feel burning me up inside.”
He brought one hand up to stroke the softness of her cheek. Pinkness rose into her face as his thumb flicked across her parted lips. It made her look so fragile, almost innocent. The color spread downward, along the delicate column of her throat, then into the open collar of her shirt and across the pretty swells of her breasts.
Yes, Brynne Kirkland was hard-shelled and stubborn. Yes, she was a lethally powerful creature, born of a race his own had long feared and despised. But beneath her dermaglyph-covered skin, she was a woman. A woman who yearned for a man’s touch.
His touch.
“Wanting you this way is the last thing I should be doing, Brynne. But I’m not going to stand here and lie to you by pretending there’s nothing between us.” He caught her face in his palms. “I’m not going to stand here and let you lie about that either.”
“Zael—” She moaned the instant their mouths met. Her hands flattened against his shoulders, but it wasn’t to push him away. As he took her deeper into his kiss, Brynne’s fingers curled into the loose white linen of his shirt. She clung to him, her body telling him everything her words could not.
He growled low and possessive into her mouth as he pushed his tongue inside to meet hers. Her breath raced hot and heavy. The tips of her fangs grazed his lips as he claimed her hungrily, demanding her surrender. And she gave it to him.