He leaned close, sliding his face against hers, his lips near her ear, his mouth far too close to the vein he hungered to puncture -- for his own good – most certainly for her own good. And yet, he found himself asking, “Aroused you?”
She drew a breath. “Yes.”
“As it did me,” he assured her, and silently wondered if perhaps it was him that should be afraid of her, for the way she stole his reserve, his caution. His control.
He leaned back, offering her his hand to help her stand. “I won’t bite,” he promised. “Not unless you ask me to.” And damn how he wished she would, how he wanted to convince her she should.
She laughed, nervously. “I’ve never asked a man to bite me in my life,” she said, pressing her palm against his.
He brought her fingers to his lips. “Then I could be the first.”
Her eyes went wide, ?
?To bite me?”
“In the most pleasurable of ways,” he assured her.
She blushed. “I must be drunk,” she said, “because I so believe you. Probably a sign I need to go home.”
“I’ll drive you and take a cab home,” he offered. “Then you’ll have your car tomorrow.”
She considered him a moment. “I should say no.”
“But you’re going to say yes.”
“Yes,” she agreed, and smiled. “And I’m going to blame the alcohol in the morning.”
His hands slid to her waist. “Blame means regret,” he said. “And I don’t plan to let you have any regrets.
“Pretty confident there now, aren’t you?”
He took her hand. “Very.” Confident tonight would be hell. Confident that no matter how much the thrum of desire urging him to find a bed, rip her clothes off and bury himself inside her, he wouldn’t act on those desires. Not when she’d been drinking.
“You can still find your car, right?” he asked teasingly, as he turned the key in the front door and motioned to the closing manager to lock up behind him.
She laughed. “Of course, I’m too drunk to drive it, but it’s still big enough for me to find.”
He shoved open the door, stepping outside to a rush of awareness. Tension raked over Evan’s nerve endings, his vampire senses screaming with the presence of a wolf. Covertly, he had an advantage. He could sense the wolf, but as a vampire, he was essentially dead, so he had no scent, no emotion for the wolf to pick up. But out in the open like this, the wolf would see him and sense nothing human in him. In other words, the wolf would know Evan was a vampire, a Warden hunting him. That put the ball back in the wolf’s corner. Run or attack. And since most Wardens worked alone -- he and his brothers being the exceptions -- the wolf might well be cocky enough to attack.
“I left my jacket inside,” Evan said, turning back to the bar entrance. One of his brothers could stay with Ellen, but he needed the other brother here, ready to take out the wolf, while Evan protected Marissa.
Evan knocked on the door.
“You wear a jacket in this heat?” Marissa asked, the humid Texas night stiflingly impossible to ignore.
“Fashion statement,” he told her. “And since my wallet is inside my jacket pocket, an important one.”
The manager looked through the double glass door and opened it up. “Forget something?”
Evan nodded. "Yeah, I’ll be quick.”
He pulled Marissa inside, found himself tenderly brushing hair from her eyes, wondering what it was about this woman that brought out such an action. He was a hunter, an assassin, a man who was no longer a man. “Don’t move,” he instructed brusquely, trying to get himself back on track, focused on his mission. More focused on protecting her rather than fucking her. “I’ll be right back.”
She wobbled and grabbed his arm. “Woops. Guess I moved. The floor is unsteady.”
“The floor,” he said, his lips twitching, a smile trying to invade his desperate need to separate the Warden hunting werewolf and the Warden hunting this female. She was adorable, a witch casting a spell over him. “Of course,” he led her to a table and settled her into a chair, squatting down beside her. “Now this time, I mean it. Don’t move.”
She offered him a crooked smile framed by a glassy-eyed stare. “I’d say it’s a pretty safe gamble I won’t be getting up without your help.”