“I’m sure there’s plenty.” Hank leaned in. “What made you go into security as an occupation?”
She glanced around. “Are you interviewing me or genuinely interested?”
A woman pushed past her and Misha had to step to the side to avoid getting trampled. She shot the other woman a dirty look over her shoulder. Misha hadn’t blocked the aisle and the woman had room to go around. The other shopper continued down the aisle oblivious to the death stare aimed at her back. A baby wailed a few aisles over and a couple of kids fought over an abused teddy bear in the nearby checkout line.
She turned back to Hank to find him waiting. Once he had her attention, he smiled. “Both.”
“This is hardly the place for an interrogation.”
His smile grew. “Where would you like to be…interrogated?”
More heat raced through her. It took everything she had not to step into the warmth of his body and drink in his subtle cologne. Would he taste as good as he smelled? Would he make all her fears and worries go away?
“Not here,” she whispered, and then winced. Why had she said that? Ugh.
“I know a few places we could go.” His tone dropped, deep and suggestive. Somehow, he made her feel as though they were in bed naked in a dark, candlelit room instead of standing at the end of an aisle beside the produce section under glaringly fluorescent lights with stinky witnesses, frazzled shoppers and elevator music trickling from the speakers.
“I think I’ll pass, thank you,” she said.
Hank’s smile faltered. “I’m not lying when I said I’d like to know more about you.” He glanced at his watch. “How about I take you to lunch?”
“No, thank you.” She pushed her cart forward and held her breath. He didn’t move to stop her, so she kept going. She passed the entire produce section and three aisles before she looked over her shoulder. Hank remained standing where she left him, watching…no, assessing. When he saw her staring, he nodded and turned away.
Misha abandoned her grocery cart and jogged to the exit. She’d shop somewhere else. Not only had she wasted an astronomical amount of time, she knew the next time they met, Hank wouldn’t let her slip away so easily.
Chapter Twelve
Lara looked up from her book and inhaled raspberry, cinnamon and coffee. Mmmm. One of her favorite lattés since reading about it in a book. The scent of the beverage preceded the carrier.
Oh, he’s trying, Clarice said.
Raf’s smile grew when her gaze met his and he closed the distance. Brave man. His designer suit didn’t hide his imposing figure but his smooth exterior always managed to surprise Lara. She’d witnessed his ruthless brutality when it came to protecting her and fighting the enemy. She’d experienced his vicious cunning when it came to worshipping her body and working her into a mindless frenzy. None of that showed in his day-to-day businessman appearance.
A gentlemen on the streets but a freak in the sheets, Clarice moaned.
Ugh. Simmer down.
Clarice chortled.
Raf stopped beside her in the breakfast nook—her favourite spot in this huge mansion.
“For you.” He held out the latté with its delectable scent in its recyclable paper cup and lid as if the coffee was actually an olive branch instead of a trendy hand-crafted beverage.
She bit her lip and considered declining. She was down to one coffee a day and hadn’t consumed one yet, so that wasn’t the issue. Raf had kept a secret from her. From her! She was his mate. Their bond was supposed to be the strongest thing in the supernatural world, but here he was, ducking and weaving around it. Of course, she understood why he kept silent. His compassion for both Hank and herself made her love him all the more. Yet, a little piece of her was still a little pissed he managed to keep the truth from her. So she was mad, but she wasn’t. Ugh.
Raf shook the takeaway cup a little.
Oh, who was she kidding? Only a herculean effort would keep her away from this drink. And she had no effort to give.
“Out of curiosity…” She peered up at him. “What was next?”
Raf rose his dark eyebrows. His emerald gaze twinkled and he flashed his perfect white teeth. Yup, smooth exterior belying the beast beneath. “Wondering if you should hold out for something better?”
She plucked the coffee from his hand. “The thought crossed my mind.”
Tension released from Raf’s shoulders and he let out pent up air. “Chocolate.”
“That’s a solid choice.”
“If you want chocolate, I’ll get you chocolate.”
She nodded. This was almost too easy. “Yes. You’ll get me chocolate and you’ll give me something else, too.”
Raf’s gaze flashed dragon gold and he licked his lips. “I’ll give you something, all right.”
She reached out and pinched the lapel of his suit, sliding her fingers down the expensive fabric while tugging him forward. “I’m not asking for the dick.”
If full-grown, dragon-shifting, ice-breathing businessmen could pout, Raf was the poster child for the look. His bottom lip jutted out and his brows furrowed. She swore she heard his inner dragon wailing, “How can she not want the dick? Our dick is awesome.”
“I’m not asking for that. I’m demanding it,” she said. “Later.”
The change in Raf’s expression was almost comical. From one extreme to the other, the pout-pout fish disappeared and the predator returned. He leaned forward, bracing his large body with one hand on the table and the other on the back of the seat she sat on.
She thrust out her hand and stopped him with a palm against his chest. She couldn’t get lost in his kiss…yet. “I’m asking for a bodyguard.”
The predator watched and waited. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Raised voices streaming out of Raf’s slightly ajar office door told Hank everything was not okay in paradise. He recognized both the speakers. Instead of jogging or panicking, he took his time, nodded at Rodney, Raf’s new, older, male and unattractive secretary and pulled the door open.
Raf and Lara stood facing each other. With Lara stretched onto her toes, she managed to make it to his neck, but somehow radiated as much vicious power as she aimed a hostile glare at her mate. Hank turned and closed the office doors behind him.
“Absolutely, not,” Raf said.
“What are we bickering about, today?” Hank strolled up to the pair.
Lara jumped and scowled. His sister must’ve been so caught up in her battle with Raf, she forgot to keep tabs on her surroundings. Not good. She needed to maintain better vigilance with her new position. He’d have a word with her about that later.
Raf turned to Hank and waved his hand at his mate. “Talk some sense into this woman.”
Hank sucked in a breath. Between the two of them, Raf was the smooth operator, the ladies’ man, the social one. Not Hank. Raf must really be flustered for him to ask for help in such a way.
“I’m not a genius, but even I know those are fighting words,” Hank said.
Raf raked his hand through his hair. “We’re already fighting.”
Lara folded her arms over her chest. “We’re arguing. If we fought, you’d be in pain.”
Hank bit back a grin. His sister certainly inherited the family’s fire. Instead of commenting on how neither of them would actually hurt one another, he relaxed his shoulders and adopted the patient look his uncle always got when he tried to teach Hank something. “Now, children. Why don’t you tell me what the problem is?”
Raf swore and spun away.
Lara snorted. “You’re such an ass.”
Hank winked. “Seriously. What’s the issue? Maybe you two need a mediator. A neutral third party.” He waved at himself.
“You’re hardly neutral,” Lara said, arms still crossed. “You’re Raf’s second in command.”
“And your brother,” Hank said.
Raf finished stalking back and forth and settled
in his chair behind his desk. He leaned back and pointed at Lara. “My beautiful and intelligent mate would like to hire a personal bodyguard to accompany her everywhere.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Hank quite liked it actually. It ensured her safety. Now that he found his sister and had her back in his life, the possibility of someone or something taking her away again left him hollow and breathless.
She’s fine. She’s safe, his dragon reassured him.
“This bodyguard would be in place of an entourage or escort. She’d have one guard for any outings outside the compound.” Raf’s scowl conveyed exactly what he thought of this plan.
“I thought we were speaking about her security on site.” Hank frowned. He’d rather Lara remain on their land and not go out at all—too many variables and security risks existed outside the compound—but even Hank recognized her desire to have some freedom and breathing space. “One guard won’t be enough. Not for outside.”
Lara threw her hands up in the air. “I’m not a child.”
No, but she was his baby sister.
Raf laced his fingers together and leaned over the desk. “Wait to you hear the rest of it.”
“There’s more?”
Raf nodded. “She wants her friend to be her guard—a mortal, non-supernatural woman with only martial arts training and guns as defence.”
“Misha?” Hank turned to Lara.
She nodded.
Misha.
God, his blood still sang from talking with her earlier. If she’d been down for it, he would’ve bent her over the melons and thrust into her in front of the entire grocery store. Her soft skin, full lips and those toned legs made him crazy. He wanted to touch and taste while she wrapped those long limbs around him.
He wanted to take her, again and again, and he didn’t care when or where.
His dragon growled in agreement.
Raf and Lara watched him expectantly. This was his chance. His opportunity. He rocked back on his heels and pretended to deliberate the matter. He didn’t need to think things over. He’d already devised a plan the moment Misha entered the conversation.
“So, let me summarize my take on the situation.” He turned to Lara. “You want space and freedom. You recognize you’re a target and would prefer Misha as your one and only bodyguard because you trust her. You have a previous working relationship so you’re comfortable with her. There’s no learning curve. With her around, it will feel more like an outing with a friend than a hostage situation. How am I doing?”
“Spot on,” Lara said.
Hank turned to Raf. “And you want Lara to be happy and safe. You’d give her the moon if she asked for it, but you’re struggling to give her the space and freedom she so desires because you also recognize the danger she’s in as your mate. You’d love to give into Lara’s demands, but know Misha will not be enough to provide adequate protection. Especially not against the ispolini in a coordinated attack. Your desire to please Lara wars with your need to keep her safe. Am I close?”
Raf growled, a deep rumbling from his chest. His gaze flashed dragon gold.
“I agree with both of you. Lara needs more freedom to move around the compound without an entire battalion trailing her, and she also needs sufficient security detail, which, regrettably, Misha cannot fully provide.”
“What are you suggesting?” Raf rested his elbow on the desk and propped his head in his hand. Dark circles lined the undersides of his eyes.
“Lara gets Misha.”
Lara yipped with excitement.
Hank held his finger up. “But if you’re going offsite, you need to take me with you.”
Lara scowled. “You’re always with Raf.”
“If I’m not available, you can take another one of the dragons from the elite team, but only if I’m detained or elsewhere. That makes three highly trained fighters, two of which are dragons for our little outings.” He nodded at Lara. She’d been itching under Raf’s oppressive safety guards, and Hank didn’t need a sister operating manual to know she felt her skills were overlooked and underappreciated. And they shouldn’t be. He’d seen her fight. She was vicious, quick-witted and ruthless.
Lara flashed him a smile and he knew he won her over. They both turned to Raf. The Astarot’s shoulders dropped and he released a long pent-up breath.
“Fine,” Raf said.
Chapter Fourteen
Many generations ago…
Edgar slid an ale toward his brother when he sat down to join him at the tavern table. Always serious, his brother had worn a scowl the entire trip back to the town neighboring the ispolini fortress. Why was he so glum? “I thought that went well.”
“Of course you do.” Romano snatched the glass from the table and took a long drink. A little ale dribbled down his chin. He set the drink on the table and wiped his face with his sleeve.
“I guess this is the wrong time to tell you I think Ilana is the one.”
“Don’t jest.”
“I’m not.” Edgar swallowed. He knew this would be an awkward topic.
His brother set him with a death glare worthy of a pre-battle showdown.
Edgar coddled his ale and leaned forward to speak over the table in a hushed whisper. “I’ve never felt anything like it. When her gaze met mine, my whole body went on alert and I wanted to leap off the saddle and take her right there.”
Romano smacked his palm against his face and ran his fingers down his cheeks as if he tried to pull off the skin covering his skull. “You’re speaking about my future bride.”
Edgar winced. He knew that, of course, but once Romano realized Ilana was Edgar’s true mate, not his, he’d step aside. He had to. “Just hear me out—”
“No!” Romano slammed his ale down on the table. Amber liquid sloshed over the side and splattered on the table. A number of other tavern patrons stopped talking and glanced over. Romano leaned forward and hissed through his teeth. “No, you selfish prick. I will not hear you out.”
“But she’s my—”
Romano thrust his hand forward, quick as a snake and grabbed his shirt. He pulled Edgar over the table until their faces were inches apart and Edgar had an excellent view of Romano’s snarl. “She’s your next infatuation.”
Edgar shook his head. “Georgi—”
“I don’t care what your lecherous dragon says. You always do this. You little shit. You latch on to the next pretty thing, declare your undying love, bed her and then lose interest. Not this time.”
He let Edgar go, and he slid back into his seat. Edgar took a deep breath. He couldn’t stab his brother, but his dagger hilt rested inches away and his fingers itched to grip the cold metal.
“I will not allow you to ruin this.”
“Let me marry her instead,” Edgar said. “Surely, the most important thing here is an alliance between our two great houses. Does it really matter which brother she marries?”
His brother’s normally pale complexion turned pink and then red. “Yes, it fucking matters.”
“But she’s clearly not your type and you’re not hers. She spent the evening speaking with me. Maybe we should let her choose.”
“Let her…” Romano shook his head. “Let her choose?”
A young guard, more child than man, wearing the Asen livery approached their table. “My apologies for interrupting, good sirs.”
They both straightened in their seats.
“I have a message from House Asen,” the young guardsman said.
Edgar lifted his chin and smiled at his brother. He knew Ilana would send for him. She was his mate. She must’ve felt it, too. They’d be together and his brother would have to find some other woman to scheme into his bed.
Romano sat back in his chair. A stony expression slid over his face to hide the fury he’d shown only minutes ago. “Yes?”
The guardsman reached forward and handed a rolled parchment paper to Romano. The house crest emblazoned on the seal, clear in the candlelight, mocked Edgar. His stomach twiste
d. She hadn’t sent for him?
Romano plucked the message from the guardsman’s shaking hands. “Thank you.”
The young man nodded, turned and hastily exited the tavern.
Edgar leaned forward, heart in his throat. “What is it?”
“None of your concern.” Romano broke the seal and read the message. His lips tugged up at one corner. He rolled the message back up and gripped it tightly in one fist. “They’ve requested my presence on the morrow.”
Fine. Edgar could work with this. He could pull Ilana to the side and speak with her. He could tell her what was in his heart and ask her to speak with her parents on their behalf.
“You’re not invited.”
Dread sank in Edgar’s stomach. Not invited? How was this possible? Had he been wrong? Was Romano right and this feeling in his bones trying to pull him to the fortress even now was all in his head and just another infatuation? “What am I to do?”
Romano’s smile grew. “You will go home and await my return.”
Chapter Fifteen
Present Day…
Misha sat across from Lara and tried not to look uncomfortable. The cheap plastic coverings on the cushions squeaked with each movement as if trying to raise an alarm. Misha had no intention of betraying her friend, but she knew the true danger Lara faced away from the Astarot’s compound and hadn’t said anything when she arrived at the mansion. In her defence, Lara rendered her speechless by offering her the bodyguard position. Why the hell had Raf approved this? She thought for sure he’d deny Lara’s request.
Misha’s heart screeched, “no,” but she agreed to Lara’s deal. She didn’t say yes for Father or the ispolini cause. The eager trust on Lara’s face confirmed the truth Misha tried to avoid. She either had to come clean with her friend or cut herself from Lara’s life so completely, Lara would never try to find her afterward.
Decision made, Misha grabbed the opportunity for a private conversation, but now that they were alone, her doubts and fears threatened to smother her.
Dangerous Decisions (Obsidian Flame Book 3) Page 5
