Supernatural. Part 3

"Doesn't it?"

"Absolutely. But if you wait too long, all that rage burns out. It'll flame hotter and hotter, until it consumes all the fuel, and then you're left with nothing. Fire is the ultimate sanitizer." His voice was bleak, scoured of the pa.s.sion she'd seen in him up until this conversation.

Avoiding his gaze, she applied the Dermabond to the laceration. "Who did you lose?"

Silence stretched, and for a long time, she didn't think he'd answer. When he did, his voice was cold but even. "My mate." He c.o.c.ked his head, his a.s.sessing gaze stripping her bare again. "Are you mated?"

"Me?" She suppressed a laugh. "I'm too busy for a social life."

"That's what people say when they don't want a social life."

She hated that he'd seen through her. She'd always found excuses for not going out with her friends, but what it came down to was that she was defective. Who would want a s.h.i.+fter who couldn't s.h.i.+ft and who would someday go insane and die?

"And you?" She capped the glue and tossed it to the cart. "I suppose you aren't too busy for a social life?"

"I'm not too busy. I admit I don't want one. My work is my social life."

As if on cue, music from the club kicked up a notch, vibrating the very air with a deep ba.s.s beat that tugged at Lena's very insides. "So what do you do for fun?" she asked casually, when she suddenly felt anything but.

An extremely wicked grin exposed his fangs, and her senses flamed in response. "I have s.e.x. Wanna have some fun?"

Man, Nate loved making Vladlena squirm. Mostly, he was being obnoxious, but he definitely wouldn't be averse to getting her naked.

Which was weird, considering that she wasn't his type, and he had never embraced the any-port-in-a-storm att.i.tude Marsden had made into a lifestyle.

"You know," Lena said in a breathless rush, "in a human establishment, I could sue you for s.e.xual hara.s.sment."

"Only if I was hara.s.sing you."

"You are."

Bulls.h.i.+t. The flush of her skin, the heat radiating from her, the pitch of her voice . . . it all made a liar of her. It also engaged the predator in him-it had been a long time since he'd had to give chase to make the kill.

Time to pounce.

"I can feel your desire." He propped himself up on his elbows, forcing his body closer to hers. "You want me. Therefore, it's not hara.s.sment. It's bringing the natural conclusion about sooner than later."

Her outraged gasp made him laugh. "You are so . . . so . . ."

"s.e.xy?"

"Arrogant."

He'd take that. "And s.e.xy."

Huffing, she shoved the rolling supply tray away. "Don't you have a club to manage?"

He made a noncommittal noise as he swung his legs over the side of the exam table. "Technically, I'm off work."

"And technically, I'm not working, remember?"

He was up in a flash and had her backed against the wall before he even realized he'd moved. She looked up at him, as surprised as he was by his sudden movement, but he rolled with it, totally I-meant-to-do-that, even though he wasn't sure if his slightly impulsive behavior was a good thing or a bad one.

"If you're not working, you should be playing," he murmured, moving as close as he could without touching her. He wasn't going to give her an excuse to push him away.

"If, by play, you mean have s.e.x-"

"I do." Now he leaned in a little, loving the way her breath hitched as his mouth lowered so close to hers that he could feel the warm rush of air between her parted lips. "But you know what's almost as good?"

Her heart rate leaped, the beat so loud it thrummed in his ears and made his mouth water. Her voice was barely a murmur over the sound of her pulse. "What?"

"This." He brushed his lips over hers, slowly, tentatively, giving her the chance to stop him.

She didn't. But f.u.c.k, she was in imminent danger of heart failure if it didn't slow down. Her nervousness was a tang in the air, and if he had any decency in him, he'd back off. Instead, that thread of life he'd been clinging to since she walked through his office door became a rope, strengthening his resolve.

He wanted to taste her. Wanted to sink his fangs into her throat and feel her pulse tapping against his teeth as her life force flowed into him.

He'd settle for tasting her lips.

For now.

Her lips were velvety, warm, and they parted more as he swept his mouth back and forth in invitation. Her response was hesitant, but curious. From the delicate scent of her desire that rose up all around him, to the spark in her eyes and the rapid pace of her breathing, it was clear she wanted this. But her body was stiff as a steel beam, screaming with awkwardness.

Maybe it's because you're her boss and she's afraid you'll fire her if she doesn't kiss you, you dolt.

Cursing himself, he whispered against her lips, "Your job isn't at risk. It never was, and I apologize for playing with you like that. You're hired no matter what." Huh. Maybe he still had an ounce of decency left in him.

"Okay," she whispered back, and those gorgeous eyes of hers locked onto his, heating him and making him feel like she was caressing him from the inside.

Groaning, he increased the pressure against her mouth. "Open for me," he murmured, and after the briefest hesitation, her lips parted just enough to allow him to stroke the tip of his tongue over the tip of hers.

This time, her reaction was immediate, intense, and shockingly abrupt, as if a dam had burst. She grabbed his biceps hard enough to send a small shock of blissful pain through him, and her back arched, putting her hips in contact with his, and she kissed him back with a hungry growl.

All of that set him off like nothing ever had. What had been mild arousal became a high-level blast of l.u.s.t that clouded his thoughts and d.a.m.n near had him taking her to the floor. He wanted her softness under him, her full hips and b.r.e.a.s.t.s buffering the hard planes of his body as he pounded into her. Only the faint vibration in his pocket kept him from stripping her down and diving between her legs.

"Dammit," he breathed, as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He was going to throw the d.a.m.ned thing away if it kept interrupting him.

Lena's wide eyes were glazed and unfocused, her face flushed, and yeah, she'd been his for the taking. He snarled viciously as he stepped back from her and looked down at the text message. GLADIUS. NOW.

"What . . ." She swallowed. "What's Gladius?"

"None of your business." s.e.xual frustration and annoyance at being sloppy enough to let her see the message put an edge on his voice. He jammed the phone back in his pocket and tried to ignore the hurt in her expression, because if she was so sensitive that a few harsh words bothered her, she wasn't going to last a week in this club.

The reality of that thought didn't stop him from wanting to draw her into his arms and apologize, though.

And what the f.u.c.k was up with the apologies and this touchy-feely c.r.a.p? All his compa.s.sion had been beaten out of him in the arena, so why the sudden desire to protect this female as if she were nothing more than a lost young cub?

"Well," she said crisply, "you can go to h.e.l.l."

He blinked. "For telling you to b.u.t.t out of something that isn't your business?"

"No. For being a jerk about it."

Well, well. The tiger had claws, but as much as he'd like to see how far they extended, he had to go. "Go home, Vladlena. Be here tomorrow night at seven. A uniform will be waiting for you."

She muttered a few mild obscenities under her breath, and he hid a smile as he stalked out of the office. Yep, she definitely had claws, and he couldn't wait for her to use them on him.

Chapter 5.

Lena's heart had still been beating madly long after Nate left. Something about him both terrified and thrilled her, and crazily, she liked it. She'd spent so long being sheltered by her father and protected by those around her that getting out on her own was a hot rush. The fact that she'd succeeded in the first part of her goal-getting a job at Thirst-was even more of a rush.

It was the first job she'd ever gotten on her own. Granted, it wasn't a job she was keeping, but at least her father hadn't pulled strings to get her here.

She'd gone home and contacted Eidolon, letting him know she was safe. Then she'd gone to bed, for all the good that had done. She'd been restless, tossing and turning, and her mind kept going to Nate. She couldn't get his spicy, masculine scent out of her nose. Couldn't forget how his skin had felt under her fingers or how his lips had been so soft on hers. Couldn't wipe his great-looking face and body out of her brain.

She also couldn't rid herself of the nagging feeling that he was somehow involved in Vaughn's death, and something told her that those tickets on his desk and the message on his phone were the key.

Now, as she finished donning form-fitting black scrubs with the word THIRST, the T fas.h.i.+oned to resemble a medical cross embroidered in red on the left s.h.i.+rt pocket, she was determined to do a little snooping.

Thirst was hopping, but so far, there were no injuries, so Lena explored, eyes peeled for . . . well, she didn't know what, exactly, she was looking for. She chatted with the bouncers, wait staff, and bartenders, fis.h.i.+ng carefully for information, but nothing they said raised any flags.

A broken wrist from a fall on the dance floor took her away from her investigation for an hour, and then she was back at it after spying Nate enter the club and make a beeline to the private section as if there was a fire. When he disappeared into his office, she followed, checking behind her to make sure no one saw her.

All clear. His door was closed, so she eased up to it and listened. Nothing. Not a sound came from inside. Taking in a deep, bracing breath, she tapped on the door and wondered what kind of excuse she'd come up with for disturbing him.

Fortunately, she didn't need an excuse, because he didn't answer. She took another calming breath, but it did nothing to still the nervous flutters in her belly as she tried the door handle.

Unlocked.

She slowly pushed it open. Inside, there was no sign of Nate, but where could he have gone? She'd seen him enter.

"Mr. Sabine?"

When no one answered, she closed the door and scrambled to search the office, starting with the file cabinets, which were locked. Same with the desk, dammit. She stood behind the desk, thinking. Her father had kept a similar office in his house, and it hadn't been until he'd been killed that she'd discovered the dark secret he'd withheld.

She and Vaughn had stumbled across an opening in a wall behind a full-length mirror. The hidden pa.s.sageway had led to a torture chamber that had verified all the rumors she'd heard about her father. It had been a nasty shock, and she wondered if any such pa.s.sage she might find in this office would lead to as great a surprise.

She checked the most obvious places first-behind pictures, mirrors, the bookshelves. Nothing. She managed to knock over a bookend and stub her toe on a chair leg, though. A superspy she was not, and she prayed no one heard her impression of a bull in a china shop.

Just as she was about to give up, she moved to the ma.s.sive wine rack behind the bar. She manipulated the bottles, being extra careful not to drop one. They were, no doubt, expensive.

When she wiggled a black bottle near the top of the rack, she felt the slightest give. Excited, she pushed on it, and half of the rack cracked open . . . only an inch, but she didn't dare open it more until she knew what was behind it. She listened, prepared to nudge the door farther, but the sound of voices constricted her chest and cut off her breath.

s.h.i.+t!

Heart pounding, she tugged the rack closed and scurried out of the office. Her muscles went watery and stopped working as she closed the door, and she allowed herself a moment to collapse against the wall and just breathe. Automatically, her fingers found her stethoscope. Touching it in times of stress was a strange habit, and one she needed to break. She just hadn't found the willpower to buy one of her own, one that wouldn't carry memories of her father.

Voices from behind the office door broke her out of her thoughts. Both male, one Nate's. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear specifics, but if the tones were any indication, he wasn't happy. The other male sounded . . . amused. And something about his voice sent s.h.i.+vers up her spine.

The door jerked open, and she jumped, whirled, and came face to . . . chest . . . with a man-no, definitely demon-who stood at least seven feet tall and was twice as wide as she was. His movie-star good looks were negated by the evil he radiated; She felt it beneath her skin, like a million worms wriggling in her muscles. He looked down, his black eyes targeting her as if she were a steak and he was a hungry lion.

"What have we here?" His voice was both seductive and frightening, and the sense of things writhing under her skin increased. What species is he?

Suddenly, Nate was there, taking her arm and pulling her away. "She's not for your pleasure, Fade." His hand tightened on her arm almost possessively. "She's an employee."

The demon raised a tawny eyebrow. "Employees are definitely for my pleasure."

"Not this one. We're short on medics, and we can't afford to lose another one."

Tension crackled in the air between the two males, thickening with every second.

"I, um . . ." She licked her dry lips. "I should go."

Nate turned to her, keeping his hand on her arm. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to know how much authority I have to purchase supplies," she lied.

He studied her for so long that she started sweating-and regretting not putting on an extra layer of deodorant. The stethoscope around her neck began to feel like a noose. Finally, he nodded.

"Purchase whatever you need. See Marsden about setting up a personal payment account."

She offered a shaky smile, which fell when she saw Fade leering at her out of the corner of her eye. "Thank you. I'll just . . . go now."

"I'll walk with you," Fade purred, and her marrow froze. She'd encountered evil in her life-her father included. But this male . . . he made the others pale in comparison. And unlike inside Underworld General, Thirst had no spell preventing violence to protect her.

"Walk by yourself." Nate's voice was a portent for trouble. "I have business to discuss with her." His fingers dug into her arm, a silent signal to agree with him. As if that was even a question. "In my office."

Nate had no idea what had come over him, except that he knew what Fade was planning to do to Lena. The demon was on the prowl for dinner and s.e.x, and for him, they were the same thing. No way was Nate going to lose a skilled medic on her first day on the job.

And as much as it pained him to think it, Nate also didn't want that b.a.s.t.a.r.d touching her the way Nate had. The way Nate wanted to. He could still remember how her lips had tasted of berry gloss, how her skin had felt like smooth satin. Fade would bruise that luscious skin and make those lips bleed.

A low growl vibrated through his chest at the thought, and he had to make an effort to tamp it down as he escorted Lena into his office and then sent a text to Marsden, warning him to keep an eye on Fade. They couldn't stop their boss from causing trouble in his own club, but they could do their best to redirect his focus. And right now, Nate's number one goal was to redirect the a.s.shole away from Lena.

"What was that about?" she asked, when he was finished texting Mars.

"Nothing. Just stay away from Fade, got it?"

"You don't have to tell me twice," she muttered. "Who is he, anyway?"

Nate tossed the phone to the desk a little too forcefully, and it slid to the floor. f.u.c.k it. It could stay there. "He's the club owner."