Darkness Unbound (Dark Angels 1)

“Of course, ma’am. This way, please.”

I followed him through the maze of tables and diners, my gaze on Lucian’s, watching the warmth of his

smile stretch to the jade of his eyes, then become something a whole lot more as his gaze flowed down my body.

He rose as the maître d’ pulled out my chair, then caught my hand and brushed the lightest of kisses across my fingertips. My whole body quivered—and not just from that kiss, but from the heated closeness of him. I licked my lips, wondering again if he was enhancing my reaction to him.

“I’m so glad you were able to make it,” he said, his voice low but powerful. “I was worried you might have had second thoughts.”

He waited until I was seated before sitting back down himself. His scent flowed around me—an enticing mix of lemongrass, suede, and musky, powerful male.

I smiled as I placed my purse to one side. “If I was going to say no, I would have done so when you first asked me out.”

Mischief gleamed in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything as a waiter approached. “Wine, madam?”

“It’s a very fine Riesling,” Lucian commented. “Not too sweet, not too dry.”

“Sounds good.” The waiter filled the glass. I took a sip, savoring the delicate fruity flavors and lingering acidity as I studied Lucian over the rim of the glass. “Thank you again for coming to my rescue this afternoon.”

“As I said at the time, I could hardly let those men assault such a lovely lady.” Amusement flared in his eyes. “Of course, it turned out the lovely young lady was more than capable of taking care of herself.”

“She is,” I agreed. “But it was fortunate you happened to walk by anyway. I hadn’t realized the second shifter was up and awake.”

“I noticed.” His fingers were toying with the rim of the glass, and though I’d never been turned on by mere fingers before, his had my breath catching. Or maybe it was the way he played so gently with the glass. It was all too easy to imagine him toying with me like that. I gulped and tried to concentrate on what he was saying as he added, “I’m not normally in that area, but I had a business meeting just down the road.”

I only had his word to go on, but I really didn’t want to believe he was lying, either then or now. And that instinctive bit inside me was relaxing, so it didn’t sense anything untoward, either. “What business are you in?”

“I’m an investment adviser. Boring stuff, really.”

This man was about as boring as a tiger snake. And probably twice as deadly—in more ways than one. “An investor who handles himself like a soldier is a rare commodity.”

He chuckled softly. “As a race, we Aedh are rather long-lived. I’ve been many things over my lifetime so far, including a soldier. Believe me, the boredom of my current job is a welcome change.”

He was still playing with the glass, and I watched the reflections dance across the shadows—the ones that surrounded us and the ones that seemed to lurk in his jade eyes. “Then you’ve always lived in Melbourne?”

He shook his head and leaned forward, crossing his arms against the table. His skin was a pale shade of gold, and almost seemed to glow against the dark wood. “I’ve just moved down here from Brisbane. I’m currently sharing a house with a friend in Carlton until I can find somewhere of my own.”

“A male friend or a female friend?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would it matter?”

Amusement touched my lips. There was enough wolf in me for the answer to that particular question to be a decided “No.”

He smiled, and I felt the heat of it right down to my toes. “My friend is a he.”

“An Aedh, like you?”

“No. Which is why, when I saw you, I knew I had to see more of you. It is rare to find another Aedh—even in a city this size—let alone one who wears such beautiful skin.”

“I’m not full Aedh.” And though such an obvious compliment didn’t usually faze me, this had the butterflies stirring again. Or maybe it was just the warmth in the words, the lack of artifice in his expression. The sheer force of desire in his eyes.

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “You feel it?”

Oh yeah, I thought wryly. I not only felt it, but I wanted it. Wanted him. “What happened to your wings?”

“Ah.” He leaned back in his chair. “They were torn off.”

“Torn off?” I stared at him in horror, desire briefly forgotten. “Why?”