Crave The Night (Midnight Breed 12)

Which is how Jordana found herself getting off the train in the old North End some seven minutes later and walking the short block to La Notte’s rear door.

Carys was there before she even had a chance to knock, opening the door and pulling Jordana into a warm embrace. “You’re shivering,” Carys pointed out. “Come in, and tell me what’s going on.”

Jordana walked with her friend into the back corridor, feeling relieved to have come, now that she was there.

But the feeling was short-lived.

No sooner had she stepped inside when a door opened farther ahead of them in the gloomy passageway. A man walked out and strode in the opposite direction of Jordana and Carys.>She glanced at him over her shoulder, a frown etching into her brow. “Aren’t you upset with me about what happened tonight?”

He blinked at her slowly, then gave a mild shake of his head. “You’re home safe, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Was he serious? A bubble of hysteria climbed into the back of her throat. “It doesn’t matter to you that I was with another man?” At Elliott’s prolonged silence in response, she exhaled a sharp laugh. “My God, it doesn’t bother you at all. You don’t love me.”

There was no venom in her words, only a sense of disbelief that she’d never realized this truth until now. The discovery didn’t upset her. It liberated her.

“You never really wanted me at all, did you?”

He sighed heavily, his expression patient, kindly indulgent. “Are you trying to provoke me, Jordana? Of course I care about you. I always have—”

“Yes,” she said, seeing it now. “You care for me, the same way my father does. The same way a dear uncle would. Like a child, a ward in need of guidance and protection. Not the way you would if I really meant something to you.”

He cursed now, but there was no passion there either. “Come inside, Jordana. I forgive whatever went on between you and that miscreant from the Order. Let’s put this night behind us where it belongs.”

“No. I can’t do that.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her feet refusing to move, even when Elliott came over and tried to guide her away from the elevator. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she ducked out of his embrace. “I can’t do any of this anymore.”

“Any of what, darling?”

“This. Us. All of it.” God, she hadn’t imagined she’d be standing there, ending the farce of her relationship with him like this, but it felt good to let it go. It felt right, for both of them. “I’d like you to leave now, Elliott.”

“Leave?” He studied her cautiously for a moment, then shook his head in denial. “No, I don’t think I will, Jordana. I understand. It’s late, and you’re upset. I don’t think you realize what you’re saying or doing right now.”

She barked out a sharp laugh. “Stop telling me how I feel, Elliott. Dammit, I wish everyone would stop telling me what they think I should do and think and feel!”

He stared at her like he might look at a furious, hissing snake suddenly dropped in his lap. “This kind of outburst isn’t like you, Jordana. You’re only proving my point that you need someone to look after you right now. I really think it best that I stay awhile—”

“Fine,” she replied. “Then I’ll go.”

She punched the elevator call button, half hoping it would come back up with Nathan still inside. But when the doors whisked open a moment later, the car was empty.

“Jordana, you’re being ridiculous,” Elliott said as she stepped into the lift. “This kind of behavior isn’t like you at all.”

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “But maybe it should be.”

“Jordana—”

“Good-bye, Elliott.” She pushed the down button, feeling a sudden surge of exhilaration—her first taste of newfound freedom—as the doors slid closed in front of Elliott’s incredulous expression.

11

NATHAN MADE THE TREK BACK TO LA NOTTE ON FOOT. NOT EVEN the brisk run through the cool night streets managed to curb the rawness of his need for a woman he should never have pursued in the first place.

He was a man used to being in control of every situation, especially when it came to sex. He fucked who he wanted, when he wanted. He called the shots. He controlled the rules, the pace, the boundaries. He decided how things started and ended—all of it, every time.

And then she came along.

Jordana, and that impulsive kiss that had ignited a flame in him that he couldn’t seem to put out.

Taking things as far as he had tonight had only made that heat flare hotter. If he’d expected to have a taste of her only so he could finally get her out of his head—get the need for her out of his blood—then he’d just proven himself a goddamned fool.