Crave the Night: A Midnight Breed Novel (12 page)

But a possessive display like that was unnecessary.

The other Breed male could smell freshly spent desire on Jordana as easily as any of their kind, and Nathan’s still-rampant erection—to say nothing of his amber-swamped eyes and elongated fangs—was equally hard to overlook.

Nathan would have ripped apart any male who had the bad judgment to lust after a woman he cared for, let alone touch her. Yet the Darkhaven lawyer seemed to let the affront slide with little more than a bitter scowl.

Nathan had a mind to throttle the undeserving man simply for his lack of reaction.

Bentley-Squire swung his frown on Jordana. “I tried reaching you tonight, several times. When you didn’t return any of my calls, naturally, I became worried something might have happened to you. Did you get my voice messages?”

“I worked late,” she murmured. “Did Seamus let you in?”

He scoffed. “I don’t need a human to give me permission to make sure you’re all right, Jordana. Where have you been?”

Panic spiked in her, a feeling so intense and visceral, Nathan could practically hear the sudden race of her heartbeat from where he stood near her. She swiveled her head in his direction, and there was misery in her wintry blue eyes.

“I was out, with Carys. We were at La Notte.” Her voice quieted then, an apology swimming in her gaze. “I had one too many drinks, so Nathan kindly offered to drive me home.”

Bentley-Squire grunted, his lips pressed flat in disapproval. “I didn’t realize the Order was running a chauffeur service.” Sneering, he glanced once more at Nathan. “How much do I owe you for taking care of my lady tonight?”

Vibrating with menace, Nathan had already calculated ten different ways he could kill the male. He said nothing, half hoping Bentley-Squire would be fool enough to try him.

Jordana must have realized the dangerous direction of his thoughts. She pivoted back around to face him.

Please
, she mouthed silently, giving him a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

If she hadn’t looked so desperate, so terrified of what he might do in that moment, Nathan might have acted on the anger simmering just below his deceptively cool surface.

“Thank you for seeing me home safely,” she told him, her politeness grating after what had happened between them just a few minutes ago.

“Jordana,” Bentley-Squire said from his position behind her in the gleaming finery of the vestibule. “I’m sure this warrior has more pressing business to attend to tonight. You’ve delayed him from his work long enough, don’t you think, darling?”

Nathan ignored the other vampire, his blazing eyes locked on Jordana. If she gave him any inkling that she didn’t want to be there—if she looked at him even remotely like she had last night at the museum reception, when her gaze seemed to all but beg him to take her somewhere,
anywhere
, else—Nathan would have dragged her back into the elevator in that same instant.

“I have to go,” she murmured softly. “Please try to understand.”

She stepped away from him, back to the Breed male who was part of this other world she inhabited. The world that drew her back into its orbit, even while Nathan could still her hear climax in his ears, could still smell her sweet juices on his fingertips.

He didn’t like the anger that seethed in him as he watched her fade out of his reach.

He wasn’t accustomed to letting emotion rule him.

He’d survived his childhood by learning to master his feelings—by learning to master every facet of his life with ruthless control and punishing discipline.

He wasn’t about to let that hard-won control slip out of his grasp now.

Without a word, without acknowledging Jordana or the sting of her retreat, Nathan stalked into the elevator and hit the down button.

Elliott Bentley-Squire had been right, after all. Nathan did have more pressing business to attend to tonight, back in his own world.

About damned time he got back to it.

Forcing her feet to remain rooted to the floor, Jordana watched the elevator doors close behind Nathan.

Instantly, she regretted that she hadn’t had the nerve to walk right in with him. Not to follow him like some passion-blinded fool but to taste
some of the freedom he seemed to enjoy as someone who walked his own path, controlled his own destiny.

And yes, she had to admit, there was a wild, reckless part of her that did want to taste some of Nathan’s freedom firsthand, as the woman at his side. As the lover in his bed, abandoning herself to his every powerful, wicked whim.

But he hadn’t promised her anything tonight. Even if he had, she couldn’t throw her life away on an impetuous impulse.

Why not?
some dangerous voice whispered in the back of her mind.

How long could she act as if she wasn’t slowly suffocating under the burden of what everyone in her life expected of her?

Nathan’s words came back to her in a rush—all the intimate truths he seemed to know about her, when a few days ago they’d been all but strangers to each other.

His words had made her angry. Even in his absence now, she felt cornered and exposed, stripped bare in a way no one had ever done to her before.

His touch had made her burn. Tonight Nathan had made her feel as if she’d been living and breathing for the very first time in all her nearly twenty-five years.

And she’d simply let him walk away.

Not that it had taken much for him to go.

Jordana hadn’t missed his seething reaction to her attempt to pretend nothing had happened between them—that he hadn’t just given her the most explosive experience of her life.

She’d done it out of fear, and out of a feeble respect for Elliott. She didn’t love him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to wound or humiliate him. Even so, Elliott was an intelligent man, and Jordana knew only an imbecile would mistake the intense, erotic energy that sizzled between Nathan and her for anything other than what it was.

“Jordana,” Elliott said now, his tone soothing as it broke into her private torment. “Darling, you can’t intend to stand out here all evening. Come inside with me.”

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.

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.

He could still see her face as she pleaded with him to keep his silence, to play along with her where Elliott Bentley-Squire was concerned. It shouldn’t have mattered to him, but it did. What she had with the other Breed male was a fucking farce that burned Nathan almost as much as the fact that he still craved her with a fierceness he could hardly reconcile.

She had made it pretty clear that she intended to keep to her own, even if she had to do it unhappily. So now Jordana was back at her place with a male who didn’t deserve her, and Nathan was hoofing it into Cassian Gray’s seedy club with a raging hard-on and a deadly bad attitude.

He found Rafe down in the empty arena of the old neo-Gothic church, questioning a trio of humans employed as blood Hosts to serve the club’s vampire clientele. As Nathan strode in, the blond warrior lifted his chin in acknowledgment and dismissed the group with a low command.

“Got the place swept out, except for the fighters and some of the staff,” Rafe informed him. “Nobody’s giving up anything on Cass, though. We’ve questioned everyone. They’re all telling the same story—no one’s seen hide or hair of the son of a bitch for the past several days.”

Nathan grunted, his voice gravel in his throat for the way his blood was still pounding in his veins. “Maybe the disruption of tonight’s revenue stream will get his attention.”

Rafe arched a tawny brow. “Right now, that’s all we’ve got. Where the hell did you go? I looked for you an hour ago, but you were gone. When I saw Carys with Rune a few minutes ago, she said she thought you left with Jordana Gates.”

Nathan bit back the ripe curse on his tongue. Barely. “She was in no shape for driving, so I brought her home. Took longer than planned.”

His friend and teammate studied him, then blew out the curse that Nathan strived to contain. “You and Jordana. Jesus, Nathan. Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“No, I don’t,” he replied, not interested in explaining himself, nor in reliving what had gone on between Jordana and him tonight. “I think it’s one bad fucking idea. And after tonight, it’s not happening, so feel free to drop the subject and tell me what you and the rest of the squad have been doing while I was gone.”

As Rafe gave him a quick rundown, one of the club’s other service workers came out of the back corridor that led to the BDSM dens. Dressed in a few straps of black leather held together by silver metal rings, the brunette female sashayed into the arena in a pair of tall, glossy boots with sky-high heels.

She’d taken care of him once or twice at the club, one of the many nameless partners who had long been his preference. The sex worker spotted him now and her hips took on a more languid, inviting sway as she headed to the bar a few feet away from him.

“We cleared the sim lounge and dance club upstairs,” Rafe said. “Eli and Jax are giving Cass’s office and private apartment another once-over.
I came down here to see if I could squeeze anything useful out of the service staff, since Syn and Rune and the other fighters are less than cooperative.”

Although he was listening to the report, Nathan couldn’t help but notice how the woman leaned over the bar to reach for a bottle of liquor, giving him a good long look at her ass and the leather thong wedged between her cheeks. His body was still fevered from want of Jordana, and it responded to the obvious invitation from this other woman the same way his fingers would reach to scratch an itch.