No, I don’t! Raluca hastily told herself. So he’s attractive. In a shallow, physical way. So what? He’s rude and crude and he’s incredibly turned on by me — I mean, he sees me as nothing but a sexual object. He’s wildly inappropriate, and he’s not what I want.
Nick’s hands clenched into fists. His jaw tensed as if he was gritting his teeth. He took a step backward, every muscle as taut as if he was straining against chains that pulled him toward her.
Hal, bent over to collect his papers, missed the entire silent exchange. When he looked up, both Raluca and Nick straightened and turned their gazes to him. He took a cell phone out of his pocket. “Nick, take off. Raluca, I’m calling Destiny to give her the job.”
Raluca opened her mouth to agree. But instead, what emerged was a vehement, “No!”
“No!” Nick burst out, his denial simultaneous with hers. “If she’s a client, she needs protection. Nobody fucking protects my — that woman — but me!”
“I already told you I don’t like that word,” Raluca snapped.
Nick folded his arms across his chest. “Well, you better get used to it, because that’s how I talk and I am sticking to you like fu — like glue.”
Since Nick had at least made an attempt, Raluca tried to moderate her tone. Nobody liked being scolded. “Also, I will not only be going to nightclubs. If you speak like that at a diplomatic function, it will draw unwanted attention.”
“I have to protect you at diplomatic functions?” Nick sounded horrified. “Hal never gives me those sorts of jobs.”
Hal looked at Nick, then at Raluca. The amusement he’d shown when she’d first inquired about Nick returned to his face. “There’s a first time for everything. Raluca, if Nick’s willing and you want him, he’s yours.”
Once again, the words that came out of her mouth were the opposite of what she’d intended to say. “Yes. He’s mine.”
“Yeah, of course I fucking want to protect her,” Nick said immediately, then looked perplexed, as if he too had spoken against his own will. “Well — I guess Rafa or Shane can coach me on the diplomat stuff.”
“Then we’re all squared away.” Hal stood up. “I have to get back to work. Raluca, please tell him everything you told me. You can leave your hoard in one of our lockers. In Lucas’s, if you like. Protection, Inc. is as secure as it gets. Nick, she needs a place to stay and something to wear. The pack’s her hoard — she doesn’t have any luggage. Take her to the locker room and get her one of Fiona’s workout outfits, so she doesn’t have to walk around in her nightgown. And then I’d start by taking her clothes shopping.”
Chapter Two
Nick
Mine, growled Nick’s wolf again. And once again, he spoke with a possessive tone that Nick had never heard before.
Nick was never at a loss for words. But he found himself standing in baffled, angry, and incredibly turned-on silence as Hal scooped up a stack of papers, walked out of the lobby, and closed the door with a very final-sounding click.
You are out of your fucking mind, Nick told his wolf. That woman is a fucking princess. You couldn’t pick a worse match if you tried. And also, did it escape your notice that she fucking hates me?
Nick was used to fighting with his wolf. Ever since he’d left his gang and joined the good guys, half his energy had been spent on restraining that snarling voice within him that urged him to kill, to abandon himself to sheer animal rage, to act on instinct and not hold back.
But this time, Nick’s wolf spoke with uncharacteristic smugness. She’s your mate. She’s crazy about you. She wants to throw you up against the wall and fuck you here and now.
Nick shook his head. Buddy, you are out of your goddamn mind. That woman can’t even stand to hear the word fuck. If she’s ever had sex with anyone, which I really doubt, it was with a prince on some giant fancy bed, and they did it in the dark. With their eyes shut. And she just lay there. Bored.
Maybe, his wolf allowed. But she wouldn’t be bored if it was you.
Nick’s memory flashed back to the sight of Raluca’s nipples hardening, pushing that silky fabric into sharp points. Oh, sure, it was only because she was under-dressed and cold — he’d overheard enough conversations about weather-related nipple hard-ons between Fiona and Destiny to know how that worked — but it had still been almost unbearably sexy to see.
Raluca was still standing with her arms folded over her breasts, hiding them, but she couldn’t erase his memory. That sheer fabric had outlined every delicious curve. They were small but luscious, like a pair of ripe peaches; he’d be able to close his hands over them and touch every last bit of her skin. Their shape was burned into his mind, all the way down to the size of her nipples. The only thing he didn’t know was their color. Would they be the same ivory as her face, or even paler? Would her nipples be rose-pink, or peach-colored, or brown? And would the intricate swirls of her glittering silver dragonmarks extend past her shoulder and over her chest, to curl around her nipples like silver chains...?
His cock swelled even more at that image. He squirmed uncomfortably, trying to get a little more room in his jeans. They were stretched so tight, they felt like they might tear. And he was so hard and cramped that it actually hurt. He had to stop thinking about that woman.
It would be easier once she got out of that fucking bra-less nightgown.
“Come on,” Nick said. “I’ll take you to the locker room.”
Raluca walked beside him, stepping delicately as a ballerina, her bare feet soundless. Her ridiculously fancy backpack, however, clinked with every step. If it contained her hoard, it was full of gold and gems. In other words, metal and rocks. It must weigh sixty pounds at the absolute minimum. He thought of offering to carry it, but she walked easily, her slim frame upright and her shoulders showing no sign of strain.
She looked so delicate, like a piece of china that would shatter at his rough touch, but it was an illusion: she had shifter strength. If she ever cut loose, which obviously she never did, but if, she might ride a man so hard, she’d break the bed.
Fucking stop it, Nick told himself. He already had the world’s worst case of blue balls. The last thing he needed was the image of Raluca straddling him.