Fanged Love by

My toes curl, and my nipples tingle into sharp points beneath the thin fabric of my pink floral dress. His words are almost as sexual as the sinful tone of his voice. Supernatural gifts of seduction? Yes, please. Ruin me for other men. “I’m ready,” I say.

He is about to speak, but something in the window behind me catches his attention. A hard, fiercely bitter gleam in his eyes replaces the carnal hunger I saw just a moment ago. I turn my head and catch a glimpse of a man staring at us. He’s in a tan trench coat with a black fedora pulled down low, leaving his face in shadow. Little warm out for a trench coat.

“Wait. Isn’t that the guy from the restaurant?” I ask.

“Let me walk you to your room.”

Um. That wasn’t an answer, and I’m about to say so when Boz stands. He takes my hand and tugs me out of the bar.

I stumble along, catching glimpses of the other patrons immersed in their conversations.

“Boz, what’s going on? Who is that guy?”

“He is—he is an old nemesis.” Boz punches the button for the elevator, keeping his eyes focused directly on the door in front of us. For a moment, I think he’s avoiding eye contact with me, but then I realize he’s looking at the reflection in the shiny stainless steel. He’s watching everything behind us. His shoulders are square, his back is rigid, and he looks like he’s about to rip off someone’s head. A vision of Boz as a warrior flashes through my mind—fierce, strong, victorious.

“Is he from a rival winery?” I whisper, actually finding this whole thing a little exciting. Or maybe it’s the weird buzzing sensation flowing from our touching hands, into my body. The space between my thighs begins to heat.

Oh, God. What is that? I squeeze my thighs together, wanting to release the pressure, but it only makes the sensation intensify.

The elevator chimes, and the doors slide open. Boz quickly shuffles me inside and presses the button for the fourth floor. My floor. My body hums in anticipation until he presses the button for the penthouse. His floor.

I deflate at the ego punch, disappointment making my limbs heavy.

I pull my hand away and keep my lips clamped together. I’m confused and hurt, but most of all, I’m angry. It’s not nice to play with a woman’s heart like that, and I expected more from him.

“I will see you to your room,” he says as we step out, “and please stay there until morning. It is not safe to wander about.”

I stop and turn to him. “I can see myself to my room. Thanks and good night.” I turn and start walking down the hallway. “Gentleman, my ass,” I huff under my breath.

“I heard that,” he calls out.

Supernatural hearing to go with his supernatural gifts of seduction? Isn’t he special? I grind my teeth. Neli was wrong about him, about us. I feel like a fool. I mean, wow. I really put myself out there with the flirting. It’s something I’ve never done for anyone. And won’t do again!

I continue down the hall, silently seething. Just as I turn the corner, Boz is standing there, and I almost crash into him.

“Ah! Where’d you come from?”

He ignores my question and frowns down at me, those dark eyes drilling into my soul. “Do not be upset, my sweet Stella.” He raises his hand and cups my cheek. His skin is cool yet makes the spot warm and tingly. “As I said, I am a complicated man, and I truly believe you deserve better—afternoons of sunshine, beautiful babies with rosy cheeks, scuba diving in turquoise water with colorful fish.”

Huh? “Scuba diving?”

“Yes. I saw it in a magazine while on the aeroplane. It is when you strap a large container of oxygen to your back and—”

“I know what scuba diving is, Boz. I just don’t understand what it has to do with us or this conversation.”

A sadness fills his dark eyes. “Because, Stella,” he says is a quiet voice, “it is a life I could never give you.” He brushes his thumb across my lower lip.

“Why?” I ask breathlessly. He’s so close. Need rushes through me.

“My work keeps me very busy,” he says brusquely.

Work? This is about work? What an asshole! Stung, I take a step back. He doesn’t want to sleep with me because he’s a workaholic? It sounds like an excuse.

He stares deeply into my eyes. I can practically feel the despair. I know I’m missing something. He’s not being honest with me. I can sense it in my gut.

I go for complete honesty, trying to reach him. “I’m fine without scuba diving, and I don’t need all of your time. I just… I think there’s something here worth exploring. I’m willing to take a chance.” My brows knit. “It’s a little early to talk about kids and all that. Can we just take it one step at a time? I’m fantastic at making plans if we get to that point. Most everything in life can be fixed with a good plan.”