Her breath escaped in a giant whoosh. How had he done that? How had he leached her magic without asking or her assistance? “Raf—”
The device detonated.
Chapter Two
An implosion rocked the room and sent the furniture, chips and cards flying. Debris ricocheted off the magical protections. Lara's heart thudded. What the hell was going on? Who attacked them? Why? Sweat broke out across her skin and her leg muscles quivered, itching to bolt from the danger. But she didn’t need to run.
She was safe. The Astarot of all dragons sheltered them in a magical, protective bubble, made stronger because he’d leached her power. Still splayed on top to unnecessarily protect her with his own body, Rafael watched her with burning intensity.
She could get lost in his sparkling emerald gaze. The room around them disappeared. The sounds grew distant. If they didn’t have clothes, a shimmy here, a thrust there and this experience would improve dramatically.
Yes, finally, her dragon moaned, urging Lara to grind against the perfect, hard body currently smothering her own.
Seriously? Lara tensed, fighting her own body’s response. Grinding is not the answer.
Her dragon snorted.
Shut it, Clarice. We were attacked.
Her dragon’s mouth snapped shut.
The distant din of the room returned. Men shouted. Some groaned. Misha barked orders. The others began to move about, brushing off debris and dust.
Rafael remained on top of her, gaze smoldering, kissable lips inches from her own.
Lara squeezed her eyes shut, but when she opened them, Rafael was still there. His soft expression suddenly hardened, as if he came to some decision. She didn't like seeing this look on him. “How did you do that?”
Rafael cocked his head. “Do what?”
“You took my magic and merged it with yours.”
“I have many talents,” he said.
“You didn’t ask.”
His lips tugged at one corner. “Next time, I’ll stop in the middle of an attack and politely ask permission.”
Her body tensed under his weight. “That’s not what I meant. How—”
“Um, guys?” Misha's voice wavered, orders halted.
Rafael grunted and stood. He pulled Lara up and she had no choice but to stand on wobbly legs.
They both turned to her co-worker. Instead of eyeing them with disgust, Misha stared at the device in the middle of the room.
“What?” Lara asked.
Misha's worried gaze flicked to her. “It's counting down.”
“How long?” Rafael asked.
“Two minutes.”
“That’s a lot of time,” Lara said. Why would the bombers give them time to escape?
Someone growled.
Lara turned to Louis to find him glaring at her.
“Go,” she ordered.
Misha nodded, grabbed Louis and ran for the door.
Everyone followed. Rafael's warm hand pressed against the small of Lara’s back, pushing her forward.
Her mouth grew dry. She pumped her arms and charged through the sweaty, vibrating crowd.
These people. She couldn’t leave them.
She lurched to the side and threw herself past a group of men to slam into the wall. Someone cursed at her. She gripped the fire alarm and pulled.
“Come on!” Rafael's strong hand clasped her arm and hauled her away.
The alarm blared. The club-goers screamed and yelled as they headed toward the one visible exit, bottlenecking, and slowing down.
Rafael cursed and pulled her out of the pooling masses.
How much time left? Half a minute? Ten seconds?
Her heart lodged in her throat. They weren’t going to make it.
A shot of dangerous black energy spiralled from Rafael to form a spear-like projection. The giant icicle slammed into the nearby wall. His powerful ice magic punched through the brick and mortar like a sword piercing through flesh.
Rafael gripped her arms and with shifter strength threw her out of the building.
Lara had enough time to throw up another protective barrier around herself and Rafael.
The building exploded. Wood splintered. Metal scraped and snapped. Debris flew by as her body whipped in the air and skidded along the rough pavement.
At first, only the dull sound of her heart thudded in her ears. Then screaming and wailing replaced it. Smoke and dust filled her nose.
Lara peeled her body from the parking lot asphalt like reanimated roadkill, and flipped around. Despite the cool spring night, her skin burned. Her body ached and she didn't trust her legs to stand at the moment.
From the large crowd gathered and gawking out front, it appeared most of the partiers made it out. In the distance, under the glow of the moon, raging fire and nearby streetlights, Hank stood watching the building with a tense frown. Red magic, similar to her own, streamed from him to cover the masses of hysterical people. He made it out in time to protect the others.
Blood coated her tongue from where she’d bit it. She swallowed. An invisible weight lifted from her shoulders, and Lara sighed. She didn’t have a hero complex, but she wasn’t a sociopath, either. No one in the club deserved to die because they chose the wrong place to have a good time.
Her butt and upper thighs screamed from what could only be the worst case of road rash ever. Bouncing off the uneven pavement had nasty side effects. She’d been so focused on protecting Rafael and herself from the blast, she hadn't anticipated the hard landing.
Ugh.
Footsteps to her left drew her attention away from Hank and his efforts. At first, she only saw the expensive black shoes, now scuffed. Following the shoes up the ripped designer suit, perfectly cut for Rafael's powerful form, she bit her lip. She knew the powerful muscles that lay beneath. She'd seen him in only boxers.
Smudges of dirt streaked across Rafael’s chiseled face, and his normally styled hair was disheveled.
Like bedhead, her dragon said. Imagine what he looks like—
This is not the time, Clarice.
Her dragon muttered, but settled.
“Are you okay?” He pulled down his cuffs and adjusted his tie. The suit was ruined, but he had a habit of fiddling with his clothes when he stalled for time
“Just peachy. You?”
Rafael watched her, waiting.
Lara refused to squirm. “What? No blonde escort?”
His gaze dropped from her face.
What the hell was he looking—?
Oh.
Miniskirt.
The useless strip of spandex currently scrunched around her waist, exposing her pale thighs and neon blue panties. Her unladylike pose didn’t help the situation.
She crossed her legs—not an easy feat to pull off gracefully when sprawled on concrete—and glared at the Astarot.
His gaze smoldered.
Sirens blared in the distance.
“Good evening, Miss Stone.” He nodded and stalked off.
When his footsteps disappeared around the corner, Lara breathed again.
Chapter Three
Lara’s heart flip-flopped between fluttering like some lovesick hatchling and beating spastically with anger. She hadn’t seen Rafael in the week since the attack at the club and his absence stabbed at her heart. Though she saw him only briefly that night, after spending a month away, the short exchange had a powerful impact. Like a street-level drug, she was hooked again and needed her fix.
Lara growled. What she needed was space. She needed to kick this addiction cold-turkey. How dare he summon her to his office like some minion?
Lara paused.
Well, okay. She was a hired gun, and her agency sent her here for a job, but Rafael specifically requested her, again. Knowing full well she couldn't refuse without getting written up or reprimanded.
The intricately carved dragon door handles loomed before her in an eerily quiet office on the top floor of one of the tallest towers in the city of Victor. Ra
fael’s receptionist had told her she could go in, but something froze her feet to the floor by the door. How long had she stood here staring at the handles? She slid her hands along their cool surface, tracing the hard lines with her fingers, before taking a deep breath and pushing forward.
Rafael leaned against his desk’s edge, long legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his broad chest. His midnight dark hair shone in the afternoon glow of sunlight streaming through the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Victor Harbor.
His emerald gaze skewered her on the spot. “Took you long enough.”
The edge in his tone freed Lara from his mesmerizing power and she stalked forward. “I came as soon as my employer ordered me to.”
“I meant just now.” His lips tugged at one corner. “You stood outside the doors for quite some time.”
“Admiring the carved handles.”
“Not gathering courage?”
“Whatever for?” Her heart raced. She gulped.
Hah! He totally has you pegged, her dragon cackled.
Rafael pushed off his desk and closed the distance between them. His dark brows furrowed as he considered her. “For ignoring my calls.”
She already knew he was a direct-to-the-point kind of guy, but she'd hoped pride or ego would inhibit his sleuthing tendencies.
His knowing smirk froze her mid-shuffle.
“I was busy.” She mentally face-palmed.
“While you were busy…” He gave her a pointed look. “We looked into you.”
A chill trickled up her spine. What did they find out? What did they know? Her dragon remained quiet for once, waiting.
“And?”
“And we know you're hiding something.”
Lara snorted. “A bodyguard with a mysterious past. Hardly an original story.”
“It's more than that.”
“Don't we all have secrets?”
Rafael rocked back on his heels. Anger flashed through his hard gaze briefly before fading away, replaced with something more calculating—like she'd morphed into a calculus problem for him to solve.
“Are we here to discuss my phone etiquette, schedule, past, or did you summon me here for an actual reason? You know, like a job. I don’t owe you any answers.”
Rafael drew his shoulders back and straightened. He pulled his cuffs down and adjusted his tie. “I've signed a contract with your company procuring your exclusive services for the indefinite future.”
Lara's stomach heated and twisted, bubbling up in what would surely spew out of her mouth as a string of colorful swearwords. His demand for answers made a little more sense now. As a man in his position, he needed to ensure he could trust the people he hired. Technically, though, he should’ve sought those answers before he signed the contract.
An exclusive contract.
A contract that chained her to this city and the man standing before her.
She bit her tongue and locked her knees. Her decision to leave her weapons at home had been wise. Her fingers itched to grip her sword. “You can't be that hard up for a date.”
Rafael's full, kissable lips flattened, and gold flashed across his gaze. If she wasn't already hyper-aware that the alpha of all dragon shifters stood two feet away from her, the menacing change in the air would have alerted her to the danger she played with.
“That's the second time you've commented on my dating habits, Miss Stone.” He cocked his head. “Interested?”
Yessss… her dragon mewled.
Lara pursed her lips and looked away, her stupid body betraying her, heat rising in her cheeks. “Is there another elaborate ruse to enact this time?”
“No.” He turned and walked to his desk, giving her the choice to either remain standing by her escape route, or delve farther into the dragon’s den.
With a deep breath in, she followed Rafael and took the cushioned office chair across from him. She ran her hands down the smooth armrests. The seat was large enough for her to curl up. She opened her mouth to question the dragon leader for details.
Rafael held his hand out to stop her.
Lara clamped her lips shut.
“Objections? Pertinent information? Yes, Miss Stone, you'll have a chance to list your many critiques of the plan, but I fully intend to provide all the information first.”
Lara and her dragon settled. It seemed Rafael had changed his strategy. At least she hoped.
“First, I’d like you to tell me about Louis.”
Her head snapped up. “Louis?”
“Louis Granger, your previous contract.”
She sighed. “I can’t tell you anything about him. As you know, Herb has all VIP Security personnel sign a confidentiality agreement. When we’re hired, our silence is guaranteed with the exception of a court order.”
Rafael frowned. “Is there a way to break the contract?”
“Not without destroying my reputation and leaving me vulnerable to legal action I can’t afford to defend.”
Rafael’s mouth pressed into a firm line.
“Why do you want to know about that turd anyway?” She ran her hands along the soft armrests again.
“He was the only one expecting an assault. I want to know why.”
“Why not contact him directly?”
“We tried. He’s not returning our calls.”
Lara bit her tongue and choked back a snarky comment. Apparently, nobody returned Rafael’s calls.
“So there’s no way around it?” he pressed.
She shook her head. “Even if he breaks his contract terms, I’m still bound by that clause. Again, the only exception in place is for court appearances.”
Rafael grumbled.
“You could ask me vague questions not relating to Louis directly.” She shifted in her seat. The room dimmed as a large cloud passed over the sun outside. Rain. Ugh. She should’ve known better than to wear a T-shirt in spring without bringing a jacket.
“Like what?”
“As a new client, you may wish to inquire about my work history and experience.”
His dark green eyes twinkled. “How long was your last contract?”
“Technically, only one night.” Even though the poker game occurred a week ago, her body still ached from the impact of the explosions and her tightening skin itched and pulled where the road rash healed.
“Did your last job require a lot of preparation?”
“Not really.”
“How much notice were you given?” Rafael pressed.
She squirmed in her seat. That question was borderline acceptable.
He leaned in. “I want to know whether you can be spontaneous or need advanced notice to plan.”
Cheeky. “Rest assured, Mr. Dragoi, I’m an expert at improvising, but in the case of my last contract, I had a week’s notice. Even though it’s beneficial to plan, sometimes things don’t go the way they’re expected to.”
Something flashed across Rafael’s expression. Something dark and sinister. He shut it down quickly. “Thank you.”
Rafael waited while Lara absorbed the information. She’d pulled her flaming red hair into a severe ponytail, but if she hoped to appear less attractive, she failed miserably.
The moment Lara Stone stepped into his office in her worn jeans and an 80s rock band T-shirt, Rafael and his dragon went on high alert—the same visceral response he had during the ill-fated poker game
Why had she avoided him? Why had she refused to take his calls or return his messages? She couldn't deny the fire burning between them.
Raf pulled his shoulders back. He shouldn't be concerned about the rejection from a hot bodyguard. His concern should focus on the imminent danger to himself, his clan and his friends. The poker game debacle was the third attempt on his life in the last month.
And yesterday Hilary, his ex with less than noble intentions, escaped prison. As intelligent as Hilary was, she couldn't have broken out of a maximum security shifter prison—one with magical safeguards—without help. He
didn't need to be a genius to make a connection. Hilary had tried to use magic to force a fake mate bond on him—a fate he'd narrowly escaped thanks to Lara's intervention.
He drummed his fingers along the smooth surface of his desk.
“What aren't you telling me?” Lara's green gaze narrowed. The gentle fragrance of cherries wound around him. She wore the lip gloss he liked. On purpose?
His beast unfurled and stretched, his attention rapt on the redhead across the desk.
“Sadly, not much. We’re not sure who's behind the attacks,” Raf said.
“But?”
“But, in addition to avoiding our calls, your former client, Louis Granger, has gone missing.”
Lara grunted and sat back.
Not the reaction he’d expected. “What?”
“Well, I wish he disappeared before submitting a complaint regarding my services,” she huffed.
Heat rolled through Raf’s body. “He did what?”
Lara shrugged, but her pinched-in brows and tense muscles betrayed her anger. “He claimed I protected others before him and cited breach of contract. He paid for and expected exclusive protection.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“My boss agreed with him. My job wasn’t to protect innocent bystanders. I got written up.”
“And now you really can't afford to turn down a job.” His collar grew tight around his neck.
She nodded stiffly.
“This job.”
She pursed her lips. “It's like you guys coordinated.”
The heat rushing through his body twisted, before flowing away. “I didn't intend to trap you, Miss Stone. And while I dislike Mr. Granger’s actions, I can't pretend I'm unhappy you're under my employ.”
His dragon snorted. You want her under you, in general.
Shut it, beast. I don’t plan to force or trick her there.
Oh, she’ll come willingly. His dragon chortled. Get it? Get it?
Raf groaned at his dragon, but the smugness in his beast’s tone rubbed the raw edge of his patience. You seem so sure. So confident. Care to elaborate?
Nah, I’m good. His dragon yawned and curled back up.
Dangerous Liaisons (Obsidian Flame Book 2) Page 2
