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 fashioned to resemble a medical cross embroidered in red on the left shirt 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, fishing 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 passageway 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 passage 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 massive 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.
Shit!
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 shivers 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 sex, 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 bastard 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 asshole 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. Fuck it. It could stay there. “He’s the club owner.”
Head cocked in a decidedly canine manner, Vladlena studied him as if he were some sort of puzzle to solve. “Clearly, you don’t like him. So why do you work for him?”
And wasn’t that the question of the century. Literally. He knew why he’d come here to work, but why he was still here . . . not so sure.
“Are you always so nosy?”
She graced him with a sunny smile that fit her so well. From her glowing, tan skin to her bright blonde hair, there wasn’t an ounce of darkness in her. As great as she looked in the tailored black scrubs, he was tempted to order cheery yellow ones to suit her better.
“Must be the cat in me,” she said breezily.
“Funny, but I’m not seeing a lot of cat in you.”
Her smile faltered, but she recovered with an admirable deflection away from his observation. “Are you going to answer the question?”
“I didn’t think I owed you any answers.”
She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “I suppose you don’t. But it would be nice.”
Nice? Nice? Where had this female grown up? She was the least underworldly creature he’d ever met. He liked it. She reminded him of life before he’d been turned. Life before it had become a waking nightmare.
“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “You tell me why you’re really here, and I’ll tell you why I work for Fade.”
The color drained out of her face so fast he nearly jumped to catch her if she passed out. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your reaction tells me otherwise.”
She stiffened. “I should get back to the office—”
He blocked her path. “What’s your hurry?”
“I have a job to do.”
“I’m the boss, and I say your job can wait.”
Angry red splotches colored her cheeks. “No wonder your other medics quit. Did you bully them, too?”
“Nope.”
She folded her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up and out. She should do that more. “So I’m special. How lovely.”
“They didn’t keep secrets from me.” What color of bra was she wearing? She seemed like the type to wear practical beige or pure, sensible white.
“My secrets are my own, and you have no right to them.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to her face. “My eyes are up here, Mr. Sabine.”
Busted. Hard. He forced his attention away from his raging libido. “I have a right to them if they affect my business.”
“They don’t.” She adjusted the well-worn stethoscope around her neck, even though it hadn’t moved an inch. She’d done it out in the hall as well.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” she asked, and his eyes flicked to her fingers, which hovered over the time-whitened black tubing, and she jerked her hands to her sides. “It was my father’s.”
“So it’s a comfort.”
Her cheeks pinked delicately, as if a painter’s brush had swept rose stain across them. “I know it’s stupid. I just haven’t had time to get a new one.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” He reached out to brush out of her eye a strand of hair that had escaped its braid, letting his fingers linger on her warm skin. Gods, there was such life in her, life that pulsed vibrantly under his fingertips and revved him like a motorcycle at full throttle. “Tell me, how do you survive in our world when you’re so transparent? Who has taken care of you all this time?”
He hadn’t meant his softly-spoken question as an insult, but she jerked away from him with a hiss.
“Shut up,” she snapped. “Just . . .” She slapped her hand over her mouth, her expression stricken. “I . . . oh, geez, I’m sorry.” He let her gather her wits, forcing himself to not reach for her again. “Look, I’m a little sensitive about this, okay? I’m trying to make it on my own. I’m out from under my father’s thumb, and I’m tired of being protected and sheltered and treated like I’m made of glass. I can do things by myself. There are things I need to do before I die, you know?”
She made dying sound imminent. Yes, as a shifter, she was long-lived, but she wasn’t immortal. Still, he sensed she was young, and she probably had a few hundred years left in her, so why the rush to do things?
“So, is this job part of your trying to make it on your own?”
Her brows pulled down into a deep frown. “Yes,” she said, as if that thought had only now occurred to her, and maybe surprised her a little. “Your turn. Why are you working for a man you hate?” She stepped closer to him, and he doubted she even realized it. She was too busy regarding him with that you’re-a-mystery-to-solve look again. “This has something to do with the fire you were talking about, doesn’t it? The way it can burn so hot that it burns itself out.”
Clearly, he’d said way too much to her, and even more clearly, she was too smart for her own good. Unable to think while she was staring at him with those too-knowledgeable eyes, he turned away from her and braced his hands on the bar. He sensed more than heard Lena move closer, and when her hand came down on his arm, it was as if he’d jammed his finger into an electrical socket. His body jerked, his muscles tensed, and intense, searing heat melted the marrow deep in his bones. Gods, when was the last time he’d reacted like that to a woman?
The answer to that was something he didn’t want to think about, because he hadn’t even had that response to his wife.
The thought turned into a growl that pumped out of his chest as though it had been building steam for years. Too late, he realized he might have frightened Lena, but oddly, she didn’t flinch. In fact, she began a gentle stroking action up and down his spine that both soothed him and put him into orbit.
“Don’t,” he rasped, even though he wasn’t sure why he didn’t want her touching him like that.
She ignored him, keeping up the light strokes. “Have you been with anyone since your mate died?”
His laugh was brittle to his own ears. “She didn’t die. She was murdered. And I haven’t been celibate, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No, it wasn’t what I was asking.”
Frowning, he stood straight and turned to her. Her hand fell to her side. “Then what were you asking?”
“If you’ve loved anyone since.”
His head jerked back as if he’d been slapped, and he actually stepped backward to keep his balance. “Why?”
She matched his step, moving forward, and a freakish thread of panic wove through him. “Some species mate for life. I know vampires don’t, but the blood bond can be strong. I’ve seen them waste away and die of broken hearts.”
“I’m not burned out from a broken heart,” he said tightly.
“I’m ashed from hatred.”
“So you think there’s nothing left except the hate?”
“I know there’s not.” Hell, he even doubted the hate was still there most of the time.
“Then why do you continue to work? To feed? Why not just step into the sun and end it all?”
Because the sun doesn’t fry me. But yeah, he understood what she was asking. He’d asked himself the same question on a regular basis.
He scrubbed his hand over his face, unable to believe he was having this conversation with someone who was as alive as he was dead. “Ending it would mean I cared enough to do it.”
“So you care for nothing.” She peered up at him through long golden lashes, her gaze a bold, hard challenge. “Nothing at all fires your blood?”
His cock stirred, as if it, too, was implying that he was a liar. “Oh, there’s one thing that fires it.”
Lena’s expression was one of subtle triumph. “And what’s that?”
“You.” He raked his gaze over her, his blood racing faster with every second he lingered on her feminine curves. “For some reason, you engage my prey drive.”
“So you see me as prey?”
“Touch me,” he said in a low voice, “and find out.”