Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I open my eyes and peek at him through my lashes. My heart hammers in my chest for a very different reason.
Hecky thump. The guy is even more gorgeous close up.
Wow, he has the most incredible eyes. They’re the colour of warm honey. My eyelashes flutter.
Dark hair, warm skin tone, beautiful eyes, wide forehead, high cheekbones, elegant nose, firm chin. Altogether it mashes into the most pleasant male beauty. My stripey-shirt guy is intently staring down at me.
All I can do is stare back.
More heat spreads across my cheeks. Crap, my face has got to be tomato red. I bet it’s so red it’s glowing.
Is my top lip sweaty? It feels sweaty.
My throat feels dry, I guess because all my spit is accumulated in my mouth. I wrinkle my nose and swallow the mouthful. Surreptitiously, I rub my lips together in case I’m drooling.
Belatedly, I realise I’m still staring.
His bright, seductive energy is intoxicating. His power heats my blood and curls my toes.
I slow blink. How the hell did I get here?
I bet this happens all the time; I bet he has women just throwing themselves at him. God, how embarrassing. What did I do? No, that’s not right—he grabbed me ’cause I was beating up a shifter.
Crap.
My mouth pops open, and I take a fortifying breath to explain what happened just now with the shifter, but my vocal cords seem to be frozen, and instead of words, I make a strange gurgling noise. My eyes widen. He’s going to think I’m a total idiot.
Crap, I still haven’t said anything.
He’s now staring back at me with total bewilderment and perhaps… if I’m not mistaken, a dash of contempt.
The energy coming off him sets fire to my nerve endings. I can taste the testosterone he exerts on my tongue.
My body trembles with fear as the full extent of his power and scent registers.
Wow, he smells good, whispers the inappropriate little voice in my head.
Sniff. Sniff.
Underneath all that anger is a deceptively alluring scent—an intense burst of metal mingled with sunlight—and my terror… and ahem… my lust.
“I lost my temper,” I finally husk out.
His eyes shine like liquid honey, his mouth is in a firm line, and his jaw is tight. “I see that.” His voice is soft and silky, at odds with his livid expression.
With some secret signal, two doormen appear from the sidelines, and the rude shifter is roughly scraped to his feet and escorted away.
“What I would like to know is how a slip of a girl can take down a twenty-five stone shifter?”
Oops.
My head pounds as I try to think of a good excuse. I can’t think with him wrapped around me. “Pilates,” I blurt out.
“Pilates,” he says with some amusement.
“Mm-hm.”
My body still wrapped around him is now warm, pliant. I could probably stay here for a few more minutes… It wouldn’t be a hardship.
I think this is one of the best moments of my life.
If I can ignore my embarrassment. “Can I, urm, get down?”
“You good?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I say with a squeak.
His disbelieving grunt makes me shiver. He releases my legs from between his calves. Then ever so carefully, he slides me down his body until my feet hit the floor. Once I’m standing, he lets go of my wrists and steps away.
Suddenly I’m cold.
My body trembles like I just survived an encounter with a god. A sex god, my brain happily pipes up. When I try to walk, I discover my legs are barely strong enough to hold me up. I lean against a high table. I am shaking.
I peek up at him.
I have to tip my head back, he’s so tall. My hands nervously twist together as I take him in. He’s even bigger than I remember from stalki—observing him from afar.
Huge.
I take in a deep breath, and the tantalising whiff of metal and sunlight in his scent whizzes up my nostrils. The glorious smell is on my skin. I hug myself and hum. Hell, I won’t shower until that scent all but fades.
The expression on his beautiful face is one of censure.
He is pissed.
Ah shit.
His anger is a heavy thing. I can feel it now, like a weight bearing down on me.
I feel suddenly awkward. Trapped in his golden glare. Overheated.
“Are you going to sack me?”
“No, he had it coming, but don’t go all Xena like that again. I won’t be so forgiving next time. You get one chance. I won’t give you another. We have rules for a reason. Any issues with our customers, and you signal to security. You don’t go around smacking customers in the face. Got it?”
Why is he calling me Xena? “My name is Tru,” I grumble.
“I know,” he says with a growl. “Got it?” His dark eyebrows raise, and if possible, his eyes harden.
“Yeah, I got it. No smacking customers in the face. Call security.” I wave my hand in the air, and my arm twinges. I frown and rub my elbow.
God, and I thought my six-pack was impressive… The boss is built like a tank.
Shit, I was in his arms, held against his body. That was hot. I’m not too proud to admit to myself the boss is sexy as—I want to lick him.
My tongue hits the back of my teeth to double-check that it’s still in my mouth, where it belongs, rather than waggling outside my mouth at him.
Want him. Want him. Want him.
The sweet blood that I can smell running through his veins appeals to me on an instinctive level. The vampire inside me pleads for a sample. I scratch my nose to cover my mouth as my teeth ache.
Both sides of me agree—even the unicorn—that I can have a little nibble on his neck. Which is why I have to stay the hell away from him. I want to snack on him… That’s nuts.
Not that the hot man would be interested in me.
I know when a guy wants me and when they look at me as if they’re just about to pat me on the head and tell me I have been a good girl, or in this case pull my head clean off.
Yet, I can feel the tension radiate between us. It’s overwhelmingly sensual. My lips part, and a shiver racks me.
This is not how I wanted to introduce myself. I could have done something sexy… I lick my lips.
“Stop doing that,” he growls out. He tilts his head to the side and looks at me as if I’m some new interesting-but-gross insect.
“Doing what?” I ask.
Should I flutter my eyelashes? I need to claw this situation back.
He sighs and rubs his hand across his face. I watch him intently. His hands are just as attractive, big but elegant-looking. “That.” He points at my face. “That look.”
I hold my breath as Xander leans towards me, and with a gentle hand, he tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. His honey gaze feels like it searches my soul. He drops his voice to a gruff whisper that only I can hear.
“I don’t fuck children.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, and the whole world grinds to a stop like a skipping record. My breath puffs out of me as if he’d poked me with a stick. My stomach twists, and my heart jerks in my chest. Oh, and the female part of me cringes. I don’t fuck children. I stare at him in horror.
He knows I like him.
He grunts with clear dismissal and then stoops to grab my hat from the floor. He slaps it none too gently back on my head.
“It’s a crush. You’ll get over it,” he says, waving his hand dismissively.
Wow, that told me.
I set my jaw to stop it from wobbling. I don’t fuck children. To give my trembling hands something to do, I adjust my hat and tuck my hair underneath.
Xander watches me intently, taking me in, in all my hurt glory. “Look, you’re a kid. I’m a grown man, I don’t need a little girl following me around like my shadow.” He shakes his head and smirks. “I’ve got tins in my cupboard at home older than you.”
Okay, I get it.
“Stop with the looks, it makes me feel sick.”
“I make you feel sick?” I mouth. Nice one Tru, make your boss puke, why don’t you? The sight of you makes him nauseated. You are a real prize.
Maybe it’s not my age… Perhaps it’s my face?
I nod my head and slink away from him. Before he can say anything else to damage what’s left of my confidence.
I grab hold of my glass-collecting basket.
I won’t say anything else to him. I am not an idiot.
I certainly won’t throw myself at him ever again.
I’m not that kind of girl. I’ve got my pride.
Ha, pride, that’s all I’ve got. I rub my forehead.
Any… any thought about him other than him being my boss… I’m going to shut it down. Shut that shit down. I’m not the first person to be rejected by a crush. I won’t be the last.
He’s an angel. An angel, gah, what the hell was I thinking? The man is probably as old as time, and I’m a blip on his radar. I don’t know what I was thinking; I don’t want some old guy. If he wanted me, he’d be a perve, wouldn’t he?
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Tru.
I scrunch my eyes up. I fucked up. I allow myself a hot second to wallow in self-pity before I pull a mental shield around my tattered feelings.
Okay, Tru, that’s enough. You know what? He’s a total prick.
Aha, there we go. The hurt I’m feeling gets washed away with righteous anger. I know he’s gorgeous, but strutting about telling me not to look at him? What a pompous dick.
I look over my shoulder at him. His mouth is still twisted with disgust. He shakes his head and prowls away. My eyes narrow. As I watch, he retreats, cutting through the club like a shark. People automatically scramble out of his way.
Man points minus ten.
It doesn’t matter how pretty you are if you’re so far up your own arse you can’t be kind. That’s not attractive. I bet he spends all his spare time kissing his biceps and whispering sweet nothings to his abs. I give my sore elbow another rub.
Granted, I admit there might have been drool at one point, and I also admit I did stare—I stared at him a lot. But to call me out on it… and then say I made him feel sick? I huff. All that lust I felt for him dries up faster than a sprinkle of rain in the desert.
Fuck him.
I have so much shit to deal with… without a bighead angel thinking he’s all that. “I’ve got tin cans older than you,” I gripe. “What. A. Cock.”