Chapter Three
“You lied to me.” His face thunderous, the tips of his ears quivering with anger, he loomed over her desk.
She stood up, tilting her head to meet his furious golden eyes. My god, he’s tall. And mad. “About what?”
“Korsan hired you to be my bodyguard.”
He told him? She was surprised but relieved the truth had come out. On principle, she preferred honesty—but Korsan had been adamant about keeping his brother in the dark. “He would not take it well,” he’d said.
He’d been right about that. Muscles bunched, face hardened, fists clenched, Ruyn appeared ready to do battle. In the face of such aggression, an instinct to use the furniture as a protective barricade kicked in, but she stepped out from behind the desk. Michaela Perine did not cower.
“You could be fired for malfeasance—dishonesty,” he said.
They both knew that wouldn’t happen. Korsan called the shots, and she’d been following his orders.
“I’m only here for a short while.” She attempted to mollify him. “I’ll be gone before you know it.”
“Sooner, if I have anything to say about it. I don’t need a bodyguard. Least of all you.” His lip curled.
Gee, tell me how you really feel. “Because I’m human or female?”
“Both. It’s ludicrous to think someone your size could be of any use in an altercation.”
With the unwavering support and encouragement of her family, she’d developed a solid self-esteem and a realistic acceptance of her strengths and weaknesses—thank goodness.
She needed the confidence to deal with everyone else.
While her family respected her abilities and supported her, others discounted her.
She’d had to prove herself over and over.
She didn’t get angry; she took it in stride because being underestimated gave her a secret advantage—the element of surprise.
But, for some reason, his dismissal pissed her off, and she had to clamp a tight lid on her temper. “You should think of me more as a security strategist—”
“I’d like to think of you as gone.”
Before she could blink, he caught her in a headlock, his steely forearm banded across her throat, his other hand gripping her head. Instinctively, she tucked her chin as low as she could and wedged her fingers under his forearm to relieve the pressure on her throat.
“Do you see how easily I did this?” he growled.
“Only because I didn’t expect it.” She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. She lived and worked by the motto, expect the unexpected.
“Do you think if someone launches an attack, he’s going to announce it first?” he mocked. Pressed against his hard body, she felt his warm breath tickle her ear and became aware of his musky, almost-seductive alien scent. It might have distracted her if her screwup hadn’t been so epic.
Thankfully, he couldn’t see her face. It had been a long time since she blushed in embarrassment, but she didn’t doubt her cheeks were splotchy. She’d failed the first lesson of Personal Security 101 by assuming safety and relaxing her guard.
Rule number one: avoid dangerous situations. Rule number two: assume all situations are dangerous and remain vigilant.
It galled her to admit he’d gone easy on her. She’d succeeded in wedging her fingers under his arm because he wasn’t applying as much pressure as he could have. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, just demonstrate his physical superiority.
His body was rock-hard muscle, and he had lightning-fast reflexes. Despite his disability, he remained a physically fit masculine man with a warrior’s toned physique. Had Korsan overstated his injury and handicap?
“What are you going to do now?” He started to drag her backward.
With the space created between their lower bodies, she relaxed, turned, and twisted out of the headlock, giving him a hard push as she leaped away from him. “That,” she said.
If she’d expected respect or surprise, she got a smirk instead. “And what if someone gets me in a headlock?” he said. “What are you going to do then, bodyguard?”
“Well, after that little display, I suspect you’re more than capable of getting yourself out of it. I aim to ensure you’re not in a position where you need to.” She slipped her hand under her skirt to the holster and whipped out the handheld laser gun. “If needed, I’ll resort to plan B.”
He crossed his steely arms. He’d pushed up his sleeves at some point. Ridges ran from elbows to wrists, ending at the top of his hands. He had broad, masculine hands—but then he was a big man. Larger and bulkier than his shorter, more slender older brother.
“If you can get to it,” he said.
“I’ll get to it.”
He’d never pass for human, not with his pale-green skin and the cumulative effect of his features, which individually were close enough to be human, but in combination looked distinctly alien.
His nose was a little too sharp with nostrils a little too flared.
His eyes, slightly slanted, did not stand out as alien, but the golden color did.
Short, blond hair, not unusual, exposed his ears, which were. Besides being pointed, they reacted to his emotions, the color deepening with his anger.
The scar cutting from the edge of his full lips to the corner of one eye gave him a rakish appeal, although it had obviously been a painful injury. He’d come close to losing his vision in that eye, and his face sagged on that side, revealing nerves or muscles had been damaged.
She dragged her gaze upward.
His ears were mottled green. “Seen enough?”
“Sorry.” Staring was rude anytime—gawking at someone’s injury or disability was worse. She hadn’t been doing that, not exactly, but her face heated.
Her unfortunate tell was blushing. A fair, blue-eyed redhead, she betrayed her embarrassment by turning pink and blotchy. Fortunately, competence and confidence ensured she didn’t often become embarrassed.
“I don’t care what you think your function is, but stay the phuk away from me.” He stalked out.