Everything south of her belly button melted and clenched, heat stealing up her front and making her nipples peak. His spiced pine scent wound her up like a clock, each of her pulse points ticking, ticking, ticking. Still, she shook off his touch, confused about his presence there and angry he’d kept his participation in the game from her. Hell, maybe she was simply angry that one touch of his hand could make her forget who she was. What she was fighting for.
Roksana turned to deliver him a frown for good measure—
“What…” she whispered, instead, her muscles tensing.
Elias’s eyes were black—and fixed on her neck.
His mouth was open just enough to show her the tip of his fangs, his seductive energy pulling her deep into a dense, blurring eddy of need.
Oh my God. What is happening?
Her attention was drawn away when the fae bashed the back of Rob’s head with a fist. Still, Rob, his eyes possessed, wouldn’t let go. An arc of dark blue blood splashed across the felt, but still the fae held on to the marriage decree. Over the top of the tussle, Roksana could see Tucker leaning back in his chair and observing the fray, casual as he pleased.
“Darling,” Cosette called. “This is getting boring.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” The man of the house pulled a handgun from his previously unspotted ankle holster, aimed, and fired at both men. Elias threw himself in front of Roksana, using his body to back her chair across the room—and in a blur, Tucker was there, too, using his broad body to shield her. But not before she saw both of the fighting men slump in a death pose in the center of the poker table.
“Zhizn’ ebet meya,” Roksana muttered.
Life is fucking me.
“Well now.” The murderous dealer fired a bullet up at the ceiling, raining plaster down onto the dead pair. “We’re off to a fine start.” He treated the remaining guests to a toothy smile. “How does everyone feel about a short break while we get this mess cleaned up?”
Roksana took a backwards lunge and booked it up the stairs. “Don’t get rattled,” she ordered herself in a winded whisper. “They knew what they were getting into and so did you.”
At the top of the stairs, another wave of alarm passed through her when she discovered her backpack of weapons was not where she’d left it. Gone. She couldn’t decide which direction to go searching, either. But she needed to get somewhere, be alone, get her shock under control. Since when did she let a little death and blood distract her from reaching a goal?
Since you went to New York, whispered a voice in the back of her head.
A better question was, when had she last reached a goal she’d set out to achieve?
She pressed a hand over her mouth, as if to keep the truth at bay and jogged up the opulent staircase leading to the second floor. Before she could turn the corner and hit the next flight, she heard him coming.
Elias. His presence was like a stick of dynamite exploding in the marble foyer below. Roksana slowed to a stop and watched him storm after her, his strides long and purposeful. Tucker stepped into his path and put a hand to his chest, saying something to him Roksana couldn’t hear, but Elias easily evaded his friend and began taking the steps two at a time.
Though it was unlike her, she ran.
She didn’t know what else to do.
In this vulnerable state, she wouldn’t be able to cling to her rage. Her sadness. Her betrayal. “Leave me alone,” she called to him over her shoulder.
“I can’t,” he said, raggedly.
Once drunk, the concoction determines what it is you want the most in life. It will amplify that desire. Enflame it.
Cosette’s earlier words blared in Roksana’s head and she tripped to a stop beneath an unlit chandelier, her feet sinking into the thick ruby-red carpet of the large landing. She remembered the way Elias had looked at her at the poker table. How he followed her now, a man missing his usual restraint. Did that mean…she was what Elias wanted most in life?
“Double dose,” she whispered, turning to face Elias, just as he crested the top of the stairs. Here was not the man she’d met in Vegas, nor was it the complicated creature she’d spent years trying to gather the willpower to kill. This was Elias, the vampire. The predator. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t hurt her.
This Elias?
He was a wildcard.
And yet, she ached to run to him. To cradle his face in her neck and tell him whatever this was would pass. God, he’d saved her from this fate, taking the burden of their amplified desires on himself. Still, even though she wanted to soothe him, she backed away instead. Backed away from the fever he was stirring in her with his raw, open display of hunger. “Elias. What are you doing?”