He grinned at me. He had chiseled features—gray skin, like stone that could move. He sported statuesque wings that sprouted from his back. He was moving around because the sun had set. During the daylight hours, all gargoyles turned to stone. “Thought that was you.”
“I didn’t think you were in town,” I said.
“Just got back.”
“Righting wrongs and saving damsels?” I said.
He reached onto my plate and picked up one of my wings. “And dudes.”
“Hey.” I pointed at the stolen wing. “Get your own.”
He popped it in his mouth and licked the sauce off his fingers. “Sorry,” he said around his mouthful.
“And close your mouth while you’re chewing,” I said, making a face at him.
He laughed.
I speared the other half of my wing and ate it, shaking my head.
“You’re in a bad mood,” he said.
“You have wing sauce on your chin,” I said.
He wiped at his chin with his palm, completely missing the spot.
I giggled, grabbing a napkin. “Here, let me get it.”
He stuck out his chin.
I wiped him off. I could feel the heat of his body through the napkin. He was warm and firm and now I was looking into his eyes and it was making me dizzy and—
I went back to my food. I began cutting all the wings into four equal pieces, but I didn’t put any in my mouth. “So, any of the damsels incredibly grateful?”
“You jealous?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Because that stuff between us is all over, and it never worked anyway, because of… of everything.” For one thing, Logan was practically my big brother. We obviously weren’t related, but we knew all about each other, and there was no point in a relationship when there was nothing to discover. And that wasn’t even counting the thing he’d done for me, the thing we didn’t talk about, the thing I shouldn’t even think about—
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice a little rumbly. “I’m not sure we ever gave it a proper chance, Clarke.”
“Of course we did,” I said briskly. I began dipping each tiny fourth of a wing into the two dips I had and then placing each back on my plate. “And that’s why I want you to find someone else. I want you to be happy.”
He didn’t say anything.
I looked up at him.
He was studying his palm.
I started eating wings. Just shoveling them into my mouth, one after the other.
“Look,” he said abruptly, “I wish you’d stop with saying you want me to find someone else. You know that I live my life on the road and that what I do doesn’t allow me to have those kinds of attachments. Besides, I don’t want to be tied down.”
“I know that,” I muttered. “Like I said, whatever was between us never worked anyway.”
Logan was… antsy. Always had to be on the move. He was honorable in his own way. He spent his days hunting down injustices that couldn’t be solved by the proper channels because they were too steeped in magic. He made things better. He saved people. But he lived hand to mouth, running credit card schemes and hustling people in card games to make a little bit of money. And he was always on the move.
I couldn’t live that way.
And he wasn’t willing to give up his lifestyle and stay here with me.
So, it was never going to work.
He grinned at me suggestively. “Certain things worked. Certain things worked fine.”
I rolled my eyes. I pushed away the rest of my plate of wings. I’d lost my appetite. “No,” I said. “No, forget it.”
“I didn’t ask a question,” he said.
“You didn’t have to,” I said. “I know what you’re up to. You go off gallivanting around, doing what you do, and then you roll back into town, and you expect me to be here waiting for you on my back with my legs spread. Well, it’s not happening this time, buddy.”
“Clarke,” he said. “Don’t be like that.”
I picked up my beer and downed the rest of it.
“Hey,” he said, “you going to eat the rest of that?”
I shoved my half-eaten wings at him.
He wrinkled up his nose. “Did you put blue cheese on all of them?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Logan.”
He shrugged and stuffed a few pieces in his mouth. He chewed.
Get up and walk away from him, I told myself. He’s just going to keep talking to you, and you’ll keep drinking, and he’ll wear you down, and you’ll end up taking him home. So, walk away now.
I stayed on the barstool.
“You know it’s not like that, anyway.” His voice had taken on a soft quality, dark and pleasant, like worn flannel. “You’re the love of my life, Clarke.”
“And that’s why you’ve abandoned me more times than I can count.”
“Hey, I don’t mean to. I mean to stick around. But I just… sometimes I get an itch I have to scratch.”
“You never even warn me. I know exactly how this will go. I’ll take you home, and it’ll be… nice—”
“Clarke, what we have is more than nice, and you know it.” A low whisper in my ear.
“And then it’ll go on that way for a week, maybe two, and then one day, I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone. No goodbye. No note. Nothing.”
“It won’t be like that this time.”
“You’re right. It won’t. Because you’re not coming home with me.” I got off the barstool. I looked down at it, amazed. Had I really done that?
He stood up too. “Hey, come here.” He reached for me.
I tried to back away.
But he was grasping both my hands with his, tugging me close.
Now I could smell him, and he smelled wild and sweet and familiar. My Logan. “Stop,” I whispered.
His lips were on my neck, in a little spot just below my jaw, a spot that always drove me crazy. He kissed me there. “I’ve been dreaming of your skin,” he murmured.
“Logan—”
“I’ve been dreaming of peeling off your clothes inch by inch and covering you in kisses. I want to kiss you everywhere.” His voice deepened, thickened with promise.
Something inside me clenched, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. I wanted him. Damn it. I shoved him.
It was like shoving a boulder. He was thick and strong and made of living stone. But the fact that I’d done it shocked him. He let go of me.
I took several steps backward. My voice shook. “I have a job that I’m working right now. It’s, uh, it’s kind of a big deal.”
“A job? What do you mean? Like a certain rogue you’re tracking?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Kind of. I’m getting paid to do this job, and I can’t screw it up. I need…” I took another step back. I hugged myself. “You distract me. I need my head clear.”
He looked troubled. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I said. “But I can’t do this.” I gestured back and forth between the two of us. “I can’t do this again, okay?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, okay.” He looked down at the plate of wings, but it was empty.
“Okay,” I said. I turned around.
“Hey, Clarke, can I at least crash on your couch or something? I got nowhere to stay.”
I didn’t look at him. “That’s not my problem,” I said shakily. And I stalked off.
* * *
I was still shaking as I sat waiting for the Sea City night bus on the designated bench. The thing wouldn’t be by here for another forty-five minutes, so I had a while to wait. Normally, I wouldn’t wait outside. I’d hang out in Happy Harry’s until closer to its arrival time. But I knew that if I went back into that place, Logan would get under my skin and find some way to worm his way back into my bed.
Hell, even standing here, I was already half-regretting turning him down.
I didn’t have a lot of prospects. I had my self-respect, so I wasn’t going to get it o
n with just anyone. And in my social circle, pickings were fairly slim.
But I knew it was a bad idea to give in to him simply because I wanted a little action between the sheets. I wasn’t the kind of girl who could be intimate that way without giving over a piece of my heart. And every time that Logan left me, he chipped away at my heart a little more. I needed to protect myself from that, even if it was hard to resist him.
I used to lie to myself, thinking that maybe this time was the time that things would be different for Logan and me. But he was never different. He wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t mean to hurt me. He truly couldn’t help it. He had to keep moving. Something within him did spur him on, keeping him from putting down roots. I knew that if he forced himself to stay in one place, he’d be miserable. So, I wasn’t even angry with him. I loved him. I knew he couldn’t be different. He hadn’t had an easy life, either.
Anyway, when push came to shove, I knew he was always there for me in the ways that counted. If I was in trouble, I could always call on him, and he’d be there for me as soon as he could figure a way to get to me.
A vehicle pulled over and stopped next to the bench, but it wasn’t the bus.
It was Naelen’s car. The back door opened and he got out. “Hi, there, Clarke.”
“Stop following me around!” I was aghast.
He laughed. “I wasn’t following you, I swear. I was headed home after a few drinks at a club downtown and I saw you sitting here. You need a ride somewhere?”
Now I could smell the faint scent of liquor wafting off of him. A few drinks, huh? I’d wager he was three sheets to the wind. He was even a little unsteady on his feet. He wasn’t wearing his tie. His collar was unbuttoned. It all made him look somehow softer. I looked him over—his broad shoulders, his impossibly blue eyes. My body seemed tender in all the wrong places. It was only because I’d barely escaped from Logan, but—
Why had I escaped from Logan? Why had I turned him down? It couldn’t be because of Naelen, could it? I found him attractive, that I couldn’t deny. And he had asked me out on a date earlier. Sort of.
But I hated Naelen.
And Naelen hated me.
And he was a dragon, for God’s sake. I killed dragons. There was no future in that, even if he wasn’t destined to become mated to some other dragon.
“Clarke?” said Naelen, grinning at me.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just waiting for the bus.”
“I don’t think that bus is coming by for quite some time. Get in the car.”
“I don’t need a ride. I want to take the bus. Seriously, you are way too pushy.”
“And you’re too stubborn.”
Oh, maybe he was right. I twisted my fingers together and released them. “Fine,” I muttered. “I’d love a ride. Thanks.”
His grin widened.
I climbed into the back of the car.
Naelen climbed in after me and told the driver to head to my apartment. He turned to me. “Unless you’re not tired. We could go somewhere else.”
I felt as if I’d stepped into The Twilight Zone or something. Apparently, it was all-guys-try-to-get-in-Clarke’s-pants night. I eyed him. “You’re drunk.”
He snorted. “Not that drunk.”
“Take me home.” I buckled my seatbelt and resolved not to speak to him for the rest of the ride home.
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess it’s not very professional for me to behave this way.”
“It most certainly is not,” I said.
“Anyway, it’s obvious you aren’t swayed by any kind of unnamed pressure.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, you obviously don’t have any problem turning me down. Therefore, you can’t feel as if there’s any coercion on my part—harassment. As if your job depends on responding favorably to my advances.”
“You are making advances, then?” Why the hell was he doing that? All things considered, I wasn’t exactly in Naelen’s league.
He just laughed. “Come back to my place. Have a drink with me.”
“No,” I said.
“Just a drink. Nothing more. Michael will take you home afterward.”
“Michael’s the driver?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t he want to be off work, ever?”
“He gets paid a nice overtime rate,” said Naelen. “He doesn’t mind.”
“No,” I said again.
“Ever since I met you the other day, when you said no to my face, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you.”
“Because I said no to you?” I said. “I guess that doesn’t happen very often.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “But that’s not why you intrigue me.”
“Look, I don’t care what you think of me,” I said. I shut my eyes again. “I should never have gotten in this car.”
“You’re different than anyone I’ve ever met,” he said.
“That’s probably because the only people you meet are other spoiled, rich snobs.”
He chuckled. “It’s not about that. You’re strong. You’re tough. You’re…” He cocked his head to one side. “I’ve never met a woman like you.”
Despite my outward bravado, I was shaken by his words. I didn’t end up trying to date very often, but when I did, my strength and my toughness were not typically things that guys admired about me. Usually, that made them feel fairly insecure. But Naelen was a picture of security. He was very sure of himself. I could see that nothing I did was going to threaten him, and I felt drawn to that.
I peered into his blue eyes.
He looked back at me, smiling. He seemed so open right now, probably because he was drunk.
Maybe that made him more appealing. He was so buttoned-up most of the time. Now, he seemed loose and approachable. A piece of his hair was falling over his forehead.
I reached up and smoothed it back. But when I touched him, I jerked back, realizing what I was doing.
He snatched my wrist out of the air, stopping me from recoiling all the way. His fingers caressed my knuckles. “But there’s softness in you too. You’re strong, but when I look into your eyes, there’s something vulnerable there—”
I yanked my hand away. “No, there isn’t,” I said in a quiet voice.
“I like it,” he said. “I like you.”
“No, you don’t,” I whispered.
He laughed again softly.
I looked out the window. God, where were we? Would we be getting to my house soon? I hoped so. I could argue with him, I supposed. I could tell him why it would never work between us. We were from different worlds. I couldn’t show up on his arm at society events. He couldn’t come to Happy Harry’s with me and order a Corona. There was nothing here for us.
And I knew myself. I couldn’t be happy with less than a real relationship. If I were his dirty little secret, it would rip me apart.
I could explain all that, but I’d rather just get home and run away. He wouldn’t have thought it through, not truly. He was just drunk. Hell, he probably wasn’t thinking further than getting my clothes off.
Men. So shortsighted.
It was up to me to think through the mess, see the lack of future, and then it fell to me to refuse him. It really wasn’t fair.
Luckily, we were close to my house.
I turned to him. “You’re saying this because you’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not,” he said.
“You are,” I said. “And when we see each other tomorrow, and you’re embarrassed, I’ll remind you that I already knew that you didn’t mean it.”
“Why do you insist on making definitive statements about what I’m thinking and feeling? I know what I think. You don’t know.”
It was easier if we blamed it on his being drunk. There was less to go into. But if he really wanted it that way… I sighed. “It would never work between us.”
“You might let me try before you decide that. I know a trick or two that I think you mi
ght like.”
See? There he was, only thinking of sex. I pressed my lips together.
And the car pulled to a stop in front of my apartment building. I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t want you, Naelen. I don’t find you attractive. I loathe you.” And then I threw open the door to the car and ran away from him as quickly as I possibly could.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I was in the process of drinking my coffee the next morning when there was a knock at the door.
I opened it to find Naelen there, looking buttoned-up and coiffed again. “Good morning,” he said brightly.
“Morning,” I said. “I’m not ready.” I had just gotten out of the shower, which meant that my hair was wet and that I was wrapped in a towel. I felt very… uncovered.
“I see that.” His gaze swept my form, lingering on the bare bits. He smiled. “Not that I mind.”
“Go away and come back,” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, pushing past me into the apartment. “I just sent Michael to drive around the block. He won’t be back for a while. I’ll wait here until you’re ready.”
I glowered at him. “I hate you.”
“So we’ve established. As you said last night, you loathe me.”
“Yes,” I said. If I could breathe fire, the way he could, he would be singed around the edges.
“That hurt my feelings,” said Naelen.
“Oh, it did not.” I went into my bedroom and shut the door. What the hell was I going to wear?
“It did,” came Naelen’s voice. “I was being open with you, and you shut me out. It felt pretty horrible.”
I rolled my eyes, snatching up a pair of jeans that I didn’t think I’d worn too many times since the last time I did laundry. I fished a shirt out of my hamper. I’d only worn it once or twice too. I really did need to go to the laundry mat. I grimaced. I threw on my clothes as quickly as I could and then opened the door.
He was standing right outside my bedroom.
“If you think I’m going to apologize, you’re wrong,” I said.
He nodded. “All right, then.”
I stopped to look at myself in the mirror in the hallway. My hair was still wet and straggly. I looked like a drowned rat. I ran my fingers through it, making a face. Oh, what the hell? I didn’t care what Naelen thought of the way I looked. Really. I didn’t.
Smoke (The Slayer Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
