"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispers.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, kit," he says.
Shock jolts through her as she suddenly finds herself meeting his gaze. His eyes are a brilliant golden hue that she's only ever seen in a mirror. She shakes her head.
He grits his teeth and his fingers on her arms turn into sharp claws that dig into soft skin through layers of clothing. "Why are you still hiding?" he demands. "I abolished that barbaric law years ago," he continues and there's no mistaking that he's talking about her identity as a Shifter.
"Self-preservation," she whispers, unable to lie. There are many like her, shifters so used to hiding that they never show their real colors. Most people don't have his affluence and power. If the public were to know what she is, it's likely she'll be captured and her eggs frozen to 'preserve' her kind or something like that. She knows shifters have been experimented on for as long as they've existed and their dwindling numbers have only caused the scientists to be more frantic in catching whoever they can.
He lets go of her shoulders so that her feet can touch the ground. She scurries out from under the taller man as though she'd been scorched. Fighting the uncomfortable heat that seems to have rushed over her entire body and up her face, she mentally shakes herself and turns her head to the side, avoiding eyes that she knows is still staring at her. "You're like me," he says.
She doubts it. He's a werewolf. She's a werecat who's not only incapable of achieving full shift, she's so much like her animal that she can never hide her ears or tail.
His scowl morphs into an amused smirk that leaves her in thrall. It's really unfair how much he affects her.
Her body heats up, tension growing in her core. Maybe she's coming down with something.
"I want to show you something," he says and as if on cue, the elevator dings and the door slides open.
Chapter Five: Chew
"I should go to work" she insists, trying to dislodge her arm from his firm grip to no avail.
He's ruining her whole day's routine by keeping her here. She struggles to free herself from his tight grip and freezes when he turns around and growls at her, upper lip pulled back in warning.
The moment the elevator door opens all the way, he steps out, hauling her behind him, easily keeping hold o a desperately writhing April with one arm. The elevator door slides shut and he pulls her through a set of heavy double doors that shuts with a loud thud. He lets her go.
She twists around and quickly grasps the door handles with both hands. The button on top of the handle lights up for a second and then disappears. She jingles it again.
"It won't work unless you have access," he says smoothly, not worried about her escaping because he knows he has her trapped.
She turns back around and squares her shoulders, tilting her head up to look him in the eye and immediately regrets the decision. He's so intimidating. Wisps of black hair drifts above his eyes and his jaw is tense with an unspoken irritation that radiates his body. She wonders if that's just his default setting: perpetually terrifying.
She lets her focus skitter across the wide expanse of carpet and lands on a long meeting table that smells with a bourbon cheery finish that smells, for some reason, like espresso. Flanked by the impressive city backdrop, floor to ceiling on three sides, with the golden sun just rising above the horizon, it is a sharp contrast to the basement she has been spending the majority of her time in. It holds the decadence of the insanely rich with too many empty spaces surrounding the table.
"You ran from me yesterday," he says.
Shock jolts through her as she finds herself meeting his gaze again. His eyes ensnares her in an air of barely leashed menace that seems to wrap around him like a shield. She flushes, unable to deny his accusation, her mouth going dry.
"Do I scare you?" he asks.
She nods, wondering why he's asking for something that's blatantly obvious. He terrifies her.
She spies the slightest curve of his lips before she looks down again. She wants more than anything to wrap her fingers around her tail and rub her face with the tip to soothe herself. Her long tail twitches with the desire to do exactly that and his gaze lands on her stomach, where she has her tail wrapped firmly around herself.
"You have nothing to be afraid of," he says.
She doubts that. Even now, she feels imprint of his fingers on her arm, sure to leave bruises. Unlike werewolves, werecat don't have that superspeed healing. They're a lot more agile, though that help her species when they were being hunted down. Hard to outrun a gun. She wonders if she can use her agility against him. Maybe she can get the window open and climb to her freedom.
"Would you give me a kiss, kitten?" he asks out of nowhere.
She stands shock still for a second, blinking dumbly because surely she's heard him wrong? He's not asking- She peers up at him carefully and sees the seriousness in his gaze. A rosy blush rises to her cheeks when she realizes he's being serious. She wonders if the CEO for the company she works for has a screw loose. "I don't know you," she says, interlinking her fingers in front of herself and looking determinedly anywhere except his face.
"That's not a no," he says.
She takes a step back, and her back slams against the door that is blocking her escape. His hands are on her waist, lifting her up so he can line their lips together.
The unexpected press of his lips on hers startles her enough to suck in a sharp breath and his tongue darts past her parted lips in an instant. She is thrust back against the solid door and her eyes blink close as he kisses her. His lips are surprisingly soft against hers, pressing with an urgency that takes her breath away. His knee works between hers, coaxing her legs apart with ease.