Windburn (Nightwing# 2) (4 page)

Willow shifted in her seat. “What would be amazing is if we had a band consisting of both Morgon
and
human musicians.”

I tapped a finger on my glass. “You know, I have a friend who’s a singer in a band. He’d have no problem singing with Morgons. If they were the act on opening night, we’d definitely be making a statement that all are welcome.”

“Oh, yes!” Willow’s silver wings fluttered, then lay flat again to her slim back. “I have some cousins who’re musicians.”

Lorian nodded, but said nothing. Always keeping his thoughts close to him. I glanced down over the balcony. “No way.” I waved down and yelled, “Jed!” My golden-haired friend looked up and waved back. I gestured for him to come up. “This has to be fate. He’s here. The singer I just told you about.”

Willow’s face turned pink when Jed ambled up the stairs and across the room to us, easy grin on his handsome face. Jed had that sort of effect on girls. I jumped off the stool and met him halfway, letting him sweep me in a big hug. Jed was one of the few guys I knew who hadn’t enjoyed the view of my bedroom ceiling.

“It’s great to see you!” He kissed my cheek. “Where the hell have you been since graduation?”

“Working.” I rolled my eyes. “As a matter of fact, I’m here for work, if you can believe that.”

“No, I don’t believe you. I thought you might be tied up with the Rowanflame guy you were dating or something.”

“Corbin? Oh, no. Ended a few weeks ago.”

“No one’s good enough for Sorcha, huh?”

I shrugged one shoulder with a smile. “We’ll see. Come on over. I want to introduce you to my colleagues. We have a proposition for you.”

I led him by the hand back to our table, noting Lorian’s stiff, almost aggressive posture. His beast crouched for attack.

No sex between employees, my ass. He wanted me.

“Everyone, this is my friend, Jed, from school. He’s the lead singer for the band
Red Dream
, who’s played at Acropolis a few times. Jed, this is Fallon, Ragnor, Willow, and Lorian. I’m the marketing consultant for a Nightwing project to build the first ever Morgon-human club.”

“Cool.” His face split into a charming smile. Willow was about to melt into a pile of goo under the table.

Lorian seemed to lose his predatory edge. Maybe he had a sixth sense that figured out Jed was
just
a friend, nothing more. Lorian pulled him into a conversation about the possibility of splitting his time with a Morgon band. I let Jed slide into my seat and took my drink to the railing to scan the crowd and see who else was here.

I smiled at the sight of a human guy being mauled by a Morgon girl on the dance floor when a hand wrapped my waist, squeezing. I looked over my shoulder.
Fuck!

“Hey, beautiful. You slipped out too fast the other morning. I was hoping for a special wake-up call.”

Before he could press his body behind me, I twisted sideways, bracing my hand on his chest. His silver hair was striking against his youthful face with piercing gray eyes. That was what had first attracted me to him. Realizing the package didn’t match the personality had been a disappointment.

“Torin.” I gave him the glare I used to edge men back. “I had to work.”

Glancing over Torin’s shoulder, I caught Lorian watching with keen interest. Willow and Fallon engaged Jed in conversation, but my tiger had fixed his gaze on me. Hmph. Well, I suppose I should use this weapon in my arsenal if it would work.

I smiled at Torin, not feeling bad in the least that I was using him for my own gain. Men did it to women all the time. I tilted my head, letting a fall of hair slide forward.

“Mmm. I’d like round two with you.” Torin’s hand came up, brushing my hair behind one shoulder, taking the bait I’d offered. His hand rested there, stroking my neck with the back of his fingers.

“Would you now?”

Torin’s gray wings flexed out, blocking anyone’s view from behind him. His other hand cupped my breast.

“Whoa, boy.” I grabbed his wrist, my sharp nails digging in, and flung it away. “I didn’t agree to round two.”

“Yeah, but you want it.” An arrogant smile creased his face.

Asshole.
Men with bloated egos always assumed women were constantly clamoring to get in their beds. And quite frankly, round one hadn’t done that much for me. I had definitely left wanting.

“Um, no, actually. I don’t think I’m interested.” I removed the hand fondling my neck. “Let me rephrase that. I’m definitely not interested.”

Torin’s smile faltered. “You’re not serious.”

“Your response shows how little you know me. I don’t say anything I don’t mean. Once was enough for me. Now, back up and let me pass, please.” All politeness in my tone, but my eyes said something else.

His confusion hardened into anger.

“Move please.
Now.
” My tone had gone from sweet to sour in a blink.

Torin’s wings snapped to his back, but he didn’t move out of my way. I stepped around him to find Willow deep into a flirty conversation with Jed. Ragnor stood at the bar with another big and bulky Morgon. Fallon leaned on the railing by our table, looking out. And Lorian was…gone.

Seriously?

Well, the jealousy tactic backfired. It only pissed him off enough to leave. I downed the rest of my drink in one gulp, set the glass on the table, and stormed off downstairs. So much for my night of catching my quarry. Frustrated, I clip-clopped out the door, shivering with the cold.

“Damn.” I turned back around and walked down the hall to the office with long strides, wanting to get the hell out of there and crawl into bed. Perhaps a nightcap, or six, before I did.

I swung open the office door to find Lorian standing beside the desk, bracing both arms on the black marble, every muscle taut with strain. The door closed with a snick behind me. He straightened, fire in his eyes.

Yes. The little interlude with Torin had affected him.

“I just came to get my coat and bag.”

He gestured for me to take it, but didn’t move away from the desk, didn’t say a word. So what else could I do? I sauntered over in my most seductive walk and eased in close, brushing my hip against his leg. I reached across for my coat and let my hair slide over one of his flexed arms braced on the desk. If tension wielded a weapon, my body would be flayed from the energy roiling off the delicious, rigid wall of man next to me. He stood to his full height, the arches of his wings stretching higher, and shifted to stand mere inches behind me.

I looked over my shoulder, then froze, finding a frightening specimen of man and beast, tensing for attack. I schooled my features to show desire, hiding the edge of trepidation skating across my skin, for he certainly was intimidating no matter how much bravado I tossed around. Yes. I’d finally caught him; my roaming tiger was trapped. He lifted his hand and cupped the left side of my face, stroking his thumb across my cheekbone. I opened my mouth, inviting him to slide his thumb along my lips. But he didn’t. He dropped his hand and bit out a tight command.

“Turn around.” His voice was a rough caress, kicking my heart into overdrive.

“With pleasure, Mr. Nightwing.”

I pivoted slowly to face him. Too slowly apparently. Mid-turn, large hands gripped my waist and lifted me with a swift shift onto the desk. The sensation of my bare thighs—my thong offering no coverage—slapping onto the cold, hard marble rocketed a thrilling chill through my body.

“Lay back,” was his next command. I obeyed. Happily.

He stood between my legs and slowly lowered himself, molding his hard body to mine in all the right places. I draped my arms above my head. He slid his hands up the underside and wrapped his fingers around my wrists, bracing his weight on his forearms. Then he decided to give my face and hair a nice, long perusal. My body shook with anticipation. What was he waiting on? “As much as I enjoy being admired, do you think you could move a little faster?” There was no way he could interpret my breathy rasp as anything but yearning desire.

His hard expression held more than lust. His scowl denoted anger. “Why do you do this?” he asked, an acidic lash to his tongue.

“Do what?”

“Let men use you.”

I squeezed my fingers into fists, tendons stretching tight within his hold. “You are mistaken, Nightwing. It’s the other way around. I use them.”

“Is that so?” He dropped his face closer to mine, our lips mere inches apart, but the fever in my blood burned more with rising anger than passion. “All a matter of perspective, Ms. Linden. And either way, it cheapens you.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Get off me.”

“Not yet.”

I struggled to push up with my arms, wanting to punch him in his perfect face. He only tightened his hold, pressing his weight down, keeping me immobile, ruining my next plan to knee him in the balls.

“I know a few things about you.”

“What do you think you know?” My voice had completely lost its sing-song flirtiness, edging into hard-ass-bitch.

“I know that you’re more than smart. Your cleverness equals that of a seasoned, well-aged strategist. I know that you’re blindingly beautiful. A man could lose his mind in those pool-deep green eyes. And your hair…” His gaze followed strands, fanning out across the desk and my pinned arms.

His compliments did nothing to tamp the ire blazing through my blood. Rather than ease my temper, my pulse pumped faster.

“I know that you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes…or hands on. And I know a great deal about your heart.”

I scoffed and would’ve flung out a full throaty laugh if I were able to breathe underneath his constricting weight. He held me down, not for what I originally foresaw as a bit of kinky play, but to keep me from maiming him with my claws. “You know
nothing
of my heart.”

“I know you keep it well-guarded, fortified, and defended with your scathing remarks, sardonic wit, and firm belief that sex is only a means to a pleasurable end.”

“Isn’t it?” I squirmed beneath him, knowing the friction aroused him as much as it did me, though I pretended I was wholly unaffected, deepening my scowl.

“You know what else I see?”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“A scared little girl, too afraid to handle a real man.”

My fists were balled so tight, my nails were cutting into the flesh of my palms.

His mouth quirked on one side. “Once upon a time, a man wounded you, didn’t he? I’d say it was Daddy, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Fuck you.”

He cracked a broad smile, the bastard. “That’s what you expected of me…but not today.” Fire flickered behind his eyes as he lowered his head, closing the gap between our lips within an inch. “Your raging sensuality could make any man go mad, following you like the dogs they are whenever the pretty cat twitches by and lifts her tail. You wield sex as a weapon, striking whenever and whomever you please. But I won’t be your prey. There’s only one hunter here.” His grin sent a shiver down my spine. “I want something more from you, Sorcha Linden. More than your body.”

Pinned beneath him, I was vulnerable, exposed, and at his mercy just the way he wanted me. Body to body, lips inches apart, he spoke so close to me, as if he had a right to be in my space, which was unnerving and uncomfortable, and completely turned me on.

I unclenched my jaw and bit out, “That’s all I was offering, Nightwing. And after this display of dominant, alpha-male, macho bullshit, the offer is no longer on the table.”

Except, of course, I was still spread out beneath him on the damn desk, powerless to free myself.

His black wings snapped out to their full breadth, enveloping us in a dark embrace. I sucked in a sharp breath. His lips hovered over mine. When I was positive he was going to kiss me, he dipped his head toward my ear, skimming his stubbly jaw across my cheek and whispered, “We shall see.”

He clamped down hard on my neck and sucked the blood to the surface of my skin, surely leaving a massive mark. I arched my neck, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep the soft moan from rolling off my lips.

Then his weight was gone, leaving me cold and strangely bereft. He took one last lingering look at me still sprawled on the black marble desk, tightened his wings to his back, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out of the room with a resounding slam of the door behind him.

Heart pounding, blood pumping, skin aching for his touch despite my hateful thoughts of the damned man, I stared at the closed door, stunned stupid.

What the fuck?

I bolted upright in bed, instantly flashing back to the night before.

“What the fuck?”

Throwing off the covers, I wrapped myself in a lavender silk robe and shuffled to the kitchen. Coffee percolated in the silver pot, the aroma waking my fuzzy senses.

I poured a cup and cradling it in my palms, ambled out to the balcony of my high-rise apartment. It was smallish by Morgon standards, but since the building housed both Morgons and humans, it met the minimal requirements for landing and take-off. Not that I needed it for myself of course. But my taste in men had recently taken a turn toward the flight-inclined.

I sat at the round patio table, gazing on the gray morning. Tapping my fingernail on the coffee mug, I stewed. I was pissed.

Who the hell did he think he was? Saying I was like some cat in heat, twitching my tail. “Ass,” I mumbled.

Physically holding me down and making me listen to his stream of insults. Well, except the part about being smart. I liked that. And I didn’t so mind the mention of me being beautiful. But
then
he put on that dominant display, making demands, acting like he knew me inside out. So what if I built a wall around my heart? Why the hell did he care? It was my heart. I could do as I damn well pleased.

Heat flushed my face, my anger simmering beneath the surface as I remembered his sly smile when he claimed I had daddy issues. Damn the man for cutting too close to the truth. And after all that rough handling and rubbing of bodies on the desk, he simply stood up and walked out the room like nothing. Completely unaffected. That had never happened before. Men didn’t walk away from me. They usually crawled after me while
I
did the walking away.