by Mina Carter
“You look different dressed up.”
His voice was a whisper of sound in the darkness and sent a warm shiver down her spine, as if he’d reached out and run a large hand over her sensitive skin.
She ignored it to snort, “No shit, Sherlock. You’ve never seen me in a dress before.”
She held her breath, waiting for the derisive chuckle and sharp comment she knew was coming. Instead though, there was silence, and she felt the heat of his body as he leaned closer. So close, his warm breath fanned over the back of her neck, whispering across the tiny hairs on her skin.
“No, but I like it. I’d like to see you in one more. And out of it…” His deep voice was low and husky.
“If you’re—” Whirling around, she expected to see a grin on his face as he made fun of her again. Her words died in her throat. Instead of amusement, his expression was hard, his features drawn tight and his eyes unreadable.
“You’re beautiful.”
He lifted a hand to tuck a stray curl of hair behind her ear. The slight touch made her shiver, her gaze locked with his as his fingertips trailed over her cheek.
“Yeah, right.” Her voice was a croak, her mouth suddenly dry as a shiver rolled down her spine. He’d only touched her cheek, yet her body reacted to him like a bloom opening to the sun. “To hear them talk in there, you’d think…”
She clamped her mouth shut, appalled at what she’d been about to say. She’d learned early on never to let anyone see the chinks in her armor. Childhood bullies driven to their ways by the marks on her face and body had taught her to keep everything safely inside. But here she was… one soft touch and she’d been ready admit her innermost fears, put them in words in front of Kalen, the warrior who’d spent the last few years poking fun at her. If she did that, she might as well walk right on back in the ballroom and announce it to everyone in there.
It was too late though. She’d said enough. Realization flooded Kalen’s eyes as he looked down at her. Most warriors topped six feet—even Vixen—but he still towered over her.
“Ignore them. They’re just jealous.” His voice wove magic out of the moonlight and darkness, sending another shiver up her spine. She wanted to believe him, his words like a balm to her injured feminine pride, and she wasn’t strong enough to resist.
“Dance with me?” He held a hand out.
She couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her as she cast a haunted glance at the tall windows, the light from the festivities inside spilling out into the night. No. There was no way she could go back inside. They’d all be watching her again, dissecting her every move and probably hoping she’d trip and fall over her own feet.
“I don’t think I’m ready to go back in yet,” she admitted, even though, in a small protected place in the center of her chest, one she wouldn’t admit to anyone, she desperately wanted that dance. Kalen was so different out here, and she liked it, liked him when he wasn’t sniping at her.
“Neither am I… I came out to escape as well. Out here, just you and me.” His voice was low and persuasive, and his gaze never left hers.
Just one dance. Out in the darkness where no one could see them… What harm could it do? She reached out and placed her hand in his without speaking. The warmth and strength in his fingers as his larger hand enveloped hers made fire race through her veins but she ignored it.
This was Kalen.
Whatever madness the romance of the wedding or the night air had wrought on him, he wouldn’t want her, not really. In the morning he’d probably deny he’d even spoken to her. So any half-formed fantasies of him pulling her hard against him, or of his hands molding her body to his as he plundered her lips and then drawing her deeper into the shadows…
Fuck. She needed to get laid. Taking a breath, she forced her heart to slow before his keen senses picked up her reaction. It was just physical, nothing more. The reaction of a woman who hadn’t had sex in… too long, that was for sure… to any half passable man who got near.
She met his gaze as he pulled her into his arms, and they moved slowly to the music that filtered out onto the terrace. Under any other circumstances, she’d never have agreed to dance to this with anyone, much less Kalen. Rock and heavy metal were far more her style. But the romance of the occasion mellowed her and she relaxed in his arms.
They fit together well, moving so naturally it was as if they were made for each other. She sighed softly, the unaccustomed champagne flowing through her veins. It wasn’t enough to make her tipsy—no warrior would make that mistake—but it was enough to relax her guard several notches.
The music changed to something even slower, more romantic, and Kalen pulled her closer. At first she stiffened but his large hand smoothed over the small of her back, a soothing sound in the back of his throat, and she relaxed slightly.
The rhythm of the dance changed to slower, more intimate. She held her breath, aware of every movement of his hard, leanly muscled warrior’s body against hers. For a moment, the forbidden fantasy of what it would be like between them filled her. To have him naked above her, taking her with the passion and dominance she yearned for, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She fought it back, a flush mounting on her cheeks.
Then Kalen stopped moving and murmured her name. She looked up, blinking as her eyes readjusted to the darkness, only to find he’d moved them farther into the shadows at the edges of the terrace, well away from the ballroom doors.
“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he whispered, tilting her chin up to claim her lips.
The instant his lips touched hers, she lost the ability to breathe. Excitement and nervous heat rolled through her in equal measures as his mouth moved over hers. Soft at first, his kiss was gentle and caressing as though he were being careful or thought she might bolt. But when she didn’t, his mouth became firmer and more demanding.
She whimpered in the back of her throat and tried to get closer. She’d been kissed before, but no one had ever aroused such a bone deep and instant need in her before. Her hands slid up around his neck as she opened for him, fingers spearing into his hair.
His start of surprise was quickly hidden, a rumble of approval sounding in the center of his broad chest as he slid his tongue deep to explore her mouth. The kiss became hot and fevered, the erotic slide of his tongue against hers stealing her ability to think beyond the next kiss.
It was everything she’d secretly fantasized about alone in her bed at nights. Secret dreams of what it would be like for a male to see her as something other than a freak or abomination. No, it was more than that. She’d fantasized about him, about Kalen, from the moment she’d met him. But she’d never thought he would feel the same…
“Oh heavens, darling…” a venomous female voice drawled behind them. “Scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER 3
K alen growled as Vixen stiffened in his arms. Every primal, male instinct within him howled with fury. He’d finally gotten her into his arms, and the one little taste of her lips wasn’t enough. Not by far.
He’d always had a thing for her, from the first moment she’d walked into the warriors’ compound. With her large green eyes, sleek muscles and that fall of golden hair, she was stunning. Her lithe but curvy figure had always made his mouth water and his cock ache, but her intelligence and no-bullshit attitude did it for him. With a sharp mind and a sense of sarcasm that rivaled even his own, he’d never been able to get anything past her. That frustrated him and turned him on in equal measures.
Especially when she’d made it clear she wasn’t going to fall for his charms like every other woman he knew. Usually he only had to flash a smile, utter a few compliments, and the panties dropped like they were made of lead. Not with Vixen. He’d tried a few compliments initially and all she’d done was laugh and ask if that line worked often. It wasn’t just him, though. All the warriors, barring Marak and her patrol partner Feral, had tried, only to be knocked back. Perhaps the woman didn’t like warriors?
But when he’d seen her in that dress, he’d sworn to himself he would get a taste of her lips, even if it was a brief one before she ran him through with the daggers he knew she had concealed on her. Where, he had no clue in the fitted silk, but she had them. He’d stake his life on it.
Having her in his arms finally, her body against his and her lips parting in submission beneath his… he’d never felt anything like it. She was a slice of heaven he wasn’t expecting and was damn sure he didn’t deserve, but there was no way he was giving it up. Not willingly.
He lifted his head to growl. “Fuck off, Astra.”
She laughed. “Awww, poor Kalen. Did you lose a bet, and they made you kiss the she-beast?”
Astra’s cruel words made Vixen stiffen more, and she moved slightly, almost as if she were trying to conceal herself behind Kalen’s bigger frame. The tiny movement from the normally self-assured warrioress made his heart ache. He knew why. She might be the big bad warrior out on the streets when it came to killing the rogues, but she was still a woman. Still had feelings. He’d heard the cruel words Astra and the other “ladies” had used to describe Vixen, the nasty things they’d said when she was just within earshot all designed to hurt and wound. Fury blossomed.
“What part of fuck off don’t you understand?”
She chuckled again, moving closer with a sweep of her skirts and the soft rap of her heels against the flagstones. Her cloying perfume wrapped around them and he wanted to sneeze, anything to get the stink out of his nose. He hated her perfume, hated everything about her. Why was she here?
“Now, now, husband mine. Is that any way to talk to your wife?”
His question was answered. At her words, Vixen tore away from him with a gasp, horror on her face as she looked up at him.
“You’re married?”
The pain in her eyes cut him to the soul, and he shook his head quickly. “Used to be, but not anymore. Not for a long time. I swear.”
Astra chose that moment to slide up, wrapping her arm around his and leaning in.
“Oh, he tells all his conquests that. It’s part of our thing… you know? It gets me hot knowing he’s fucked another woman and then comes home to my bed to screw me senseless. After all,” she swept a glance up and down Vixen and then curled her lip, “why else would he come on to you? As if a man’s body like yours would keep him interested for long.”
She turned her attention to Kalen. “Is that it, darling? You wanted to pretend to bat for the other team for a night?”
A small sound of utter misery escaped Vixen’s throat as she turned and ran, not back into the ballroom but across the terrace and into the darkness of the gardens.
Astra chuckled. “What idiot thought putting her in a dress was a good idea? She looked ridiculous.”
Kalen snarled and turned on her, clamping his hand around her throat as he forced her back until he had her pinned against the wall by the doors. “You bitch. What game are you playing? We’re not married, haven’t been for years.”
Her eyes widened a little at his rough treatment, and he expected her to break down into floods of tears, accusing him of being a dinosaur and a monster like she had years ago. His expression hardened. If she thought getting him to manhandle her would gain her any advantage, she had another think coming. Their marriage had been dissolved years ago; she had no claim on him or his family. And once he explained to Marak what the little bitch had done, there was no way the warrior king would back any petition she might make.
But instead of the hysterics he’d expected, her small hands wrapped around his arms, caressing rather than pushing him away.
“About that,” she purred. “Perhaps I was a little hasty. I still care for you, Kalen. I always have.”
He dropped her like the touch of her skin had burned him, backing up as horror filled him. “What? No!”
She followed him, trying to do sultry and pleading, but he didn’t miss the flash of determination in her eyes. “Come on, darling. Don’t be like that. We were good together. Don’t you remember?”
He straightened, the fury within him hardening his gaze. “I remember you, yes. Want to know what I remember most? You fucking about behind my back and bearing a child that was not mine.”
Turning on his heels, he walked away, anger making his movements sharp and jerky for a moment. Before the end of the terrace, he took a deep breath, calming himself. He had to find Vixen, and he couldn’t do that if he was furious.
Because he needed to explain. Needed to ease the pain and misery he’d seen on her face when she’d run. It had cut him as deeply as if blades had sliced through his flesh, seeking blood and bone. Everything within him, every male, possessive instinct he had, screamed at him to find her and make things better.
Whatever it cost him.
SHE SHOULD NEVER HAVE AGREED to this bridesmaid deal, especially once she’d found out about the damn dress. Tears thickened the back of Vixen’s throat as she fled through the court gardens, pausing for a moment to tear the delicate heels from her feet. There was no way she was going in there again, in that pit of freaking vipers. She’d rather take her chances out on the damn streets with the rogues than walk through any society gathering again.
Even in the silk dress, it didn’t take her long to reach the back wall of the gardens. She didn’t hesitate at the obstacle. She simply leaped and grabbed, the sleek, powerful muscles packed into a body built for battle moving easily as she climbed up and over, dropping to the street below.
The protective sigils on the walls remained inert as she crossed them, proof she hadn’t slipped into blood-rage or meant anyone at court harm. Thanks to her role as a warrior patrolling the streets to ensure the safety of kyn society, she’d come across many varying forms of magic. But the wards on the court walls… they were serious shit, making her sensitive skin tingle if she got anywhere near them.
If the rogues or any other of the kyn’s enemies had tried to get past them, they would have fried whoever or whatever it was on the spot. But, it didn’t matter. They viewed her as friendly and had let her out, which was all she cared about.
Ignoring her barefoot state, she jogged across the road, melding easily into the darkness. Her path took her through the center of the city, perilously close to the human clubs and the hunting grounds of the kyn, but neither bothered her.
With it being late at night and closing time for most clubs, the influx of humans on the streets gave her the perfect cover as she made her way homeward. She tucked in behind a group of giggling women in short dresses and high heels. They were all drunk and unsteady on their feet and, like her, two were carrying their shoes.
Normally she’d have found their incessant moaning about their feet hurting amusing, but not tonight. The knot of misery in the center of her chest was too tight for her to find amusement in anything.
She shouldn’t have gone to the wedding, not as a bridesmaid… should have insisted Marak let her attend as what she was, a warrior in her leathers and with her weaponry. There were wards and charms that could have hidden her from the view of most guests. Even if they couldn’t, some security at the wedding of the king was to be expected. There were many people out there who would just as soon he didn’t marry or have little Maraks to carry on his bloodline.
For a moment she tried to drum up some measure of guilt for leaving the reception, but it died a quick death. Once Maria’s father had handed her over to Marak, there wasn’t a woman more protected on the planet. No, she’d had no reason to stay at the reception, other than to make more of a fool of herself.
And with Kalen of all people.
She tipped her head back, closing her eyes as she blew a breath out. What had gotten into her? He was the archetypal playboy, the darling of the nobility with his blond good looks and perfect body. The son of a lord, he was so far out of her league it was laughable.
She looked down at herself—at the silk dress, now dirty and torn at the hem from her scramble over the wall, and her
bare feet. She was the daughter of a commoner, one of the lowest of the kyn who’d made her way in life cleaning houses, not of people like Kalen’s family, but of the people who served him.
But she’d hoped, in her heart of hearts, that being a warrior, he could see past all that. Even when years of watching him in action had told her he was probably exactly what he appeared, an asshole womanizer who liked the thrill of the chase and was more interested in notches on his bedpost than a relationship.
And… she’d been right. Worse, he was all that and married.
But… hell, he could kiss… Heat filled her at the memory of his lips on hers, the pleasure that had filled her body as he’d held her close. The sheer need that reminded her she hadn’t had a boyfriend for years.
Had never had a boyfriend, really. Because she was a warrior, not a woman. She winced as Kalen’s wife—Astra’s—cruel words cut through her memory again. A she-beast, that’s what they called her. And they were right. She was a warrior, nothing more, nothing less. She shouldn’t have tried to be anything else.
The women in front of her flagged down a cab with squeals and more stumbling around as they all tried to get in through the open door at the same time. She shook her head and carried on walking, turning down a side street to take a shortcut to her apartment. Just five minutes and she’d be home, and the first thing she was doing was hitting up the big tub of choc chip cookie dough ice cream in her freezer.
After today, she deserved it.
“VIXEN! Vix! Come on, sweetheart, where did you go?” Kalen muttered to himself as he headed through the gardens in the direction Vixen had disappeared. He’d held out hope that she’d only gone far enough to conceal herself in the darkness, but as soon as he’d stepped off the terrace, he’d known she hadn’t.
Fury spilled through his veins, surging in hot waves. He’d seen her face. Astra’s words had hurt her deeply, probably deeper than she’d ever admit to anyone. In front of everyone, she was tough as nails, the bad-ass bitch her reputation named her as. But in his arms, he’d seen past her mask, seen the act for what it was, an act… one he’d seen crumble when she’d thought he was married.
