Chapter Five
“Dinner?” Malcolm echoed.
Irina nodded and gave him a bright smile. “It’s the least I can do for the man who saved me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
She clasped her hands together. “Please. It will relax me and help me feel safe. Even if I went right back to my hotel room, I think I would be scared after that awful incident.”
Malcolm turned for a moment and inhaled deeply. Irina’s perfume contained several pleasant notes, but not a hint of the distinctive floral and fruity aroma that marked a wolf Blooded. She was just a normal, everyday human.
Well, not normal. He couldn’t help but admire her lithe, athletic form as she danced, and now close up, with her blonde hair loose, and those crystal blue eyes staring at him, there was only one word that he could use to describe her: beautiful.
A fire lit in his loins, and he only barely managed not to growl. He wasn’t an idiot. He accepted that Jace and Sarah were at least partially right. He probably did need to get laid, but he wasn’t going to have a one-night stand with a ballerina he’d saved from a mugging, no matter how beautiful she was or how graceful her dancing. Something seemed very trashy and exploitive about the whole idea.
If he wasn’t going to have a one-night stand, then getting to know her was pointless. Maybe it wouldn’t be soon, but eventually she’d find out what he was, and he’d have to use his animal magnetism to erase her memory, and that would lead to more questions and more trouble. The last thing he wanted to do was screw up a dancer’s career because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.
He didn’t fuck and run. He wasn’t his father.
Still, a bite to eat shouldn’t be too much of a big deal, and it was hard to say no with her eyes so wide and pleading. She probably was scared after what had happened.
“I saw there’s a diner nearby,” Malcolm mumbled. “Why don’t we go there?”
* * *
A few minutes later, as he sat across from the beautiful ballerina, Malcom tried hard not to stare at her. Her beauty intoxicated him.
“This place is strange,” Irina said.
He glanced around. They’d gone to a slightly upscale diner. It wasn’t the kind of place he’d normally hangout, but it didn’t seem weird. They didn’t even have any kitschy crap on the walls.
“It’s just a diner.” He peered around. “Pretty normal for the US, I’d say.”
“No, no, no. You misunderstand.” Irina furrowed her brow and gestured toward a window. “Glendale, Scottsdale, Phoenix. All of these cities I’ve been to since coming here. They are what I find strange.”
Malcolm bounced the city names around trying to figure out what connected them other than being in the Phoenix Metro Area. “What about them is weird?”
“I don’t mean to be so confusing. It’s just so warm here.” Irina laughed softly, the sound soothing and almost musical. “I grew up in Moscow, and I lived there until last year. This is my first winter in the United States, let alone my first winter in a desert. It’s so different from what I’m used to is all.”
Malcolm had never really thought he was the kind of guy who could get turned on by a little exoticism, but something about Irina’s accent filled him with warmth in more than a few places.
“Well, Arizona isn’t like a lot of the United States.” He chuckled and shrugged. “I’m from San Diego, and then I moved to Los Angeles after that before coming here, so the whole winter wonderland thing would actually seem weird to me.”
“I’ve been to both those places on tour. I think I preferred San Diego to Los Angeles.”
“Yeah, I think I do, too.” Malcolm grinned. “But who knows? I’m here now, so maybe I’m not that loyal to cities.”
“Did you move for work?”
He considered his response carefully. The key to a good lie was to at least offer a little of the truth.
“Um, you could say that. A friend of mine decided to move for personal reasons and open up a bar in Glendale. I went with him. I work there now.”
Her delicate golden eyebrows rose. “Oh, are you a sommelier?”
Malcolm barked out a laugh. Irina wrinkled her face in confusion.
He waited to respond as the waitress stopped by with their drinks and their food. Unsurprisingly, the ballerina was only having a salad. He’d chosen a burger with two huge patties.
Once the waitress headed off, Malcolm took a bite of his savory burger and swallowed. “Sorry, Irina. I didn’t mean to laugh like that. It’s just I’m pretty far from a sommelier. The place I work at… um, it’s kind of a rough place.”
“A rough place? What do you mean?”
He sighed. Time for his angel to learn what kind of scum he was. “Do you know what a biker bar is?”
Irina tilted her head and stared at him, as if she were trying to peer into his soul. “You work at a biker bar?”
“Yeah. I guess, technically, I’m co-manager or whatever you want to call it. We’re not huge on titles there, but I’m the second guy in the chain-of-command.”
The ballerina took a bite of her salad. Malcolm found himself entranced by the muscles in her delicate throat moving as she swallowed. Everything she did seemed graceful, at least to him. It’d been a long time since he’d been so drawn to a woman, let alone a non-Blooded.
“You don’t seem the type,” Irina said with a faint smile on her face. “I thought you were a businessman, or perhaps some sort of detective like on television. You know the kind who has to go outside the rules, but ultimately cares about his city.”
Malcolm let out a soft chuckle at that. “Like I told you, didn’t even own the suit before yesterday. I just didn’t want to show up to the ballet looking like a bum.” He snorted. “Even though a lot of other people around here don’t seem to care.”
Irina laughed again. Each time she did, it only soothed Malcolm more. “That is one of the more fun parts of touring. Every area has its own… how would you say it? Flavor? Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, that works.”
“Yes, this place is very informal, and I can see how that appeals. I’m just happy so many people come to share in the beauty and The Nutcracker. There were many children in the audience. One never knows.” A wistful smile appeared on her face. “It was the first ballet I ever saw. It’s what made me want to become a dancer.”
Malcolm nodded slowly. “It’s the first I saw, too. My mom took me. It gave me, uh, an appreciation for ballet.”
Sure, it was also the only ballet he’d ever seen, but he didn’t feel the need to ruin the mood by pointing that out, and strictly speaking, what he’d said had been true.
Irina looked off into the distance as if staring at a memory. “The grace and beauty of dance… overwhelms me at times, shows me how there can be light even when you think you’ve been swallowed in darkness.”
He stared at her. “You’ve had a lot of darkness?” He found it hard to believe that this woman had dealt with much, but just because she was gorgeous didn’t mean she hadn’t dealt with shit. If anything, she might have had more crap because of it.
Irina brushed a blonde strand out of her face. “My father was a businessman. Things didn’t always go well with him. He is too honest in a way. He made some bad investments at a time when bad men were trying to take advantage of my country. He is doing well now, but it was not always the case.”
“Sorry to hear it.” He shrugged. “Didn’t even know my dad. He took off.”
Sympathy lit up her face. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“No big deal. Maybe that’s one of the reasons the ballet hit me so hard.”
“That is the glory of performance, yes?” Irina said, her face alit with infectious joy. “Art performed directly for people touches their souls in a way that recordings never can.” She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. “Beauty and grace.” She slowly opened her eyes. “But strength and masculinity are important, too.” She smiled at him. “I think I’d like to see your workplace sometime, Malcolm.”
“Devil’s Den?”
“Devil’s Den?” she echoed. She giggled and clasped her hands together. “How delightful.”
“I just don’t think it’s your kind of place.” Malcolm looked down, suddenly unable to look her in the eyes. Even without all the other issues, a woman like Irina lived and worked in a different world than a man like him.
Irina only laughed more. Malcolm’s eyebrows shut up.
“I am a ballerina,” she said, “but it’s not as if I’ve never dealt with rough men.” Her expression turned serious. “And I know if I were there with you, I’d never fear harm.”
The intense look in her blue eyes almost knocked him over. The angelic doll wasn’t that different from him. He wasn’t kidding himself. There was a hunger in her eyes, a hunger for him.
“Well, I’ll have to take you there,” he said. “You’re in town until January, at least, right? I mean you’re performing until then.”
“Yes, I am. I’m sure we’ll have a chance.”
“I’d like to see you again.”
“I’d very much like that, too.” Irina retrieved her cellphone from her purse. “What’s your number?”
Malcolm rattled the number off, then almost barked out a laugh at the fact she was getting his digits. He got his phone, and before he could even ask, she listed off her number.
Irina picked up her fork and took a few more bites of her salad, a faint smile on her face the entire time.
Malcolm forced himself to focus on his food, even as his gaze wanted to keep returning to the angel sitting across from him. No, a fairy. A queen among fairies, really.
Maybe Jace and Sarah weren’t so wrong. He didn’t want to have a one-night stand, but Irina was with a traveling ballet company. She knew she would be leaving soon, and so probably just wanted to have a little fun over the next few weeks. That didn’t sound so bad.
As long as they both knew what to expect, it’d be fine. And easy. Unlike with Sarah, Irina wasn’t Blooded. He wouldn’t have to worry about pack struggles or other wolves getting involved.
Nope. He had nothing to worry about. She was just a beautiful Russian ballerina with no connection to the supernatural.
Malcolm fought down a grin as he finished his burger with that thought.