by Meg Ripley
“Alright.”
At her door, she turned to him and smiled. “Would you like to come in for a drink? It’s been kind of a rough evening already.” Her mouth said the words without her permission, but she couldn’t pull them back now.
His face softened slightly for the first time, and he nodded. “Sure. That would be great.”
She led him inside, glad that she had cleaned the previous evening. Her apartment wasn’t a big or luxurious one, but she was happy in it. The landlord was content to let her paint and decorate to her heart’s content, and the deep purple walls contrasted nicely against the white leather couch and the walnut floors. Several soft throws were cast over the back of the couch, and a larger stack of books rested on the coffee table.
“What would you like?” she asked as she set her purse on the side table and headed toward the kitchen. “I’ve got wine, beer, whiskey, vodka…you name it.”
“I didn’t know you were that much of a drinker,” he replied with a sly smile.
She turned away from him, embarrassed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I had a friend’s engagement party here last month, and there was plenty left over. Not that I never get into it myself.”
“I’ll have some whiskey, if you don’t mind. Neat.”
“Coming right up.” As she buried herself in the kitchen and fetched glasses from the cabinet, she wondered what kind of a place Lance lived in. As a high-ranking exec, he probably had some lavish apartment that made her place look like a hovel. She knew she shouldn’t care what he thought, but she suddenly did.
When she returned with the drinks, she found him examining the floor-to-ceiling shelves near the dining area. “Most of those came from my Uncle Wade. He likes to travel, and he always sends something back to me. I keep them, no matter how hideous they are. He’s pretty much what I have left when it comes to family.” She took a long drink to shut herself up. Her boss didn’t need to know her entire backstory.
“There seems to be a theme here,” he said as he sipped his whiskey and touched the base of a jade dragon sculpture. “I see a lot of mythical creatures.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of his thing. I hate to admit it, but he’s convinced some of these are real. Especially dragons.” She smiled as she admired a tiny stone dragon that he had sent her several years ago and told her it would come to life at night.
“And why is that?”
Sabrina shrugged. She’d said enough, and divulging her crazy uncle’s whole scheme about dragons who lived as humans was a bit much. Nobody wanted to hear about a secret society of dragon hunters, and that the tradition was expected to be handed down from generation to generation. If Wade had his way, he would have done an official ceremony when Sabrina turned fifteen, where he would hand down some of his most prized weapons. “I don’t know. He just finds them interesting, I guess. He made a lot of money in stocks when he was younger, and he likes to spend it looking for proof of fictitious beasts.” There she went again, saying too much. She buried her nose in her wine glass.
But Lance nodded appreciatively. “And has he ever found this evidence?”
“Of course not. He’s just a crazy old man, and I’m too nice to tell him he should settle down and get a real job.” She moved away toward the living room, ready to find something else to talk about.
“Tell me about Max.”
Except that. “I’m not sure what there is to tell,” she replied stiffly. She sank down on one end of the sofa, suddenly dizzy as she remembered her encounter with him. Max had never been particularly kind, unless he wanted something, but he had never before gone that far. If Lance hadn’t shown up, there was no telling what would have happened.
Her boss seated himself as well. It wasn’t a big couch, and she could feel his body heat. “It might not seem like it’s my business, and maybe it isn’t, but it’s disturbing to find a scene like that.” His face was stern once again, and his voice sounded almost like he was scolding her. “He shouldn’t be treating you that way. I take it the two of you are dating?”
“Were. We were dating. And that was the stupidest thing I ever could have done. I was in a bit of a slump when he asked me out, and I thought, ‘What the hell?’ I didn’t think it would really go anywhere, and I was right. But he isn’t the kind of guy who takes no for an answer, and he keeps insisting that we never should have broken up.” She rolled her eyes to clear the images of Max from her vision. “It’s the kind of thing that would just be kind of sad if he was handling it differently. At first, it was even a little flattering. But now it’s just…scary.”
Lance’s elbows rested on his knees, his glass held out in front of him. He stared at the amber liquid as he swirled it around. “May I ask what happened?” His voice was quiet.
Either the wine was going to her head, or this guy was just that easy to talk to. He had already seen her in her most vulnerable moment, and Sabrina found it effortless to explain the situation. “A little bit of everything. He was nice enough, at first. But he’s the kind of guy who can never be wrong. No matter what the subject matter was, he always knew more. He didn’t think I could possibly know anything because I’m a secretary. I knew he was confident, but it was just a little too much.”
“Sounds like an ass.” Lance set his drink down on a coaster and looked at her. “Was that all?”
She shifted uncomfortably on her cushion. “That’s the only thing that I can really explain. There’s just something about him that makes me nervous; ‘unsettled’ might be a better word.” She frowned. As low as her expectations for Max had been, she’d never imagined him stooping to the level he had that night.
Lance tipped his head to the side, interested. “I had a bad feeling about him from the moment I met him, but I can’t really explain it either.”
“That makes me feel a little better, actually,” she said with a smile. Her muscles were relaxing, and she sank into the back of the couch. “My girlfriends were so focused on his good looks that they never saw anything wrong, so I thought maybe it was just me. But he always has this weird vibe—and an underlying scent of metal on him. Like blood. I kept waiting to find out if he was some sort of serial killer or something.”
Lance’s eyes widened and his posture became rigid. “You should stay away from him at all costs, Sabrina. He’s dangerous.”
“After tonight? That’s obvious,” she smirked, but his sudden change in demeanor caught her attention. She paused, slowly squinting her eyes at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“How could I? I haven’t been at the company very long, or even in this state. But I don’t think any man who raises a hand to a woman is much of a man at all.” He stared into her eyes, challenging her to argue with him.
Sabrina leaned a little closer to him. Her glass was almost empty, and she could feel it. The alcohol was pushing her mouth up into a permanent grin. “You know, you’re a much nicer guy than you let on. You go to the office and pretend like you don’t care about anybody, but that’s not true, is it?”
There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. “It is true, for the most part.”
“But you wouldn’t have bothered to help me tonight if that were true.” Sabrina scooted a little closer, and she reached out and playfully tapped his arm. His eyes flicked down to her lips and back to her eyes again, and Sabrina felt a thrill of excitement burning in her veins that she hadn’t known for a long time. “So, what does that say about me? Am I special?”
Lance hesitated for a moment. “Sabrina, you’re not really like the others.”
Their faces were only inches apart now. Her chest heaved as she breathed, her lips so close to his. “It isn’t smart to have relationships with coworkers,” she whispered. “It doesn’t work out well.”
“That’s true.” But he didn’t push her away. Instead, he licked his lips.
Their lips melded together, exploring slowly at first. Sabrina felt the heat of his breath, the hard muscles of his arms underneath her han
ds. She ran them slowly up toward his neck, touching his soft hair. As she leaned forward, her breasts brushed against his chest, and she let out a soft moan of pleasure.
And the efforts weren’t all on her part. He kissed her back, encouraging her to part her lips so their tongues could dance. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer so that their bodies were crushed together, locked in a fiery embrace of passion. He tasted of whiskey and coffee and something else, a deep tang of energy that danced across her tongue and made her want to drag him to the bedroom.
Finally, he put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. Their faces were still close, and his breath was hot on her skin as he spoke. “We really shouldn’t do this, Sabrina. You’ve had a long day, and it isn’t fair of me to take advantage of you.”
“I promise, you aren’t.” She pressed her lips to his once again, letting go slowly. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I tell you what.” He returned her kiss, then kissed her forehead. “I’ll leave tonight and let you get some sleep. But maybe I can take you out for dinner tomorrow night.”
“If I say no, then will you stay?”
“No, Sabrina,” he whispered. He was grim and solemn again, a mood he seemed to sway back into easily. “I can’t stay. No matter what. But I’ll pick you up here tomorrow night at eight. Walk me to the door; I want to hear you lock it behind me.”
She sat back and frowned, her heart pounding. She wanted him desperately, more than she had wanted any other man in a long time. With someone else, she would have found some excuses in the back of her mind as to why she shouldn’t be with him, but it just wasn’t like that with Lance. Even the fact that they worked together didn’t coerce her.
“You’re no fun.”
“You’ll get over it. Come on.” He stood up and took her by the hand to help her off the couch. “You keep this locked until you’re ready to leave for work in the morning. I can come over and walk you down to your car, if you’d like.”
Now that she had stood up and walked across the room, her head had cleared a little. Lance was worried about taking advantage of her, but she was trying to take full advantage of him. “You don’t have to do that. I can call one of the security guards, or I can time it so that I’m walking down with one of my neighbors. I’ll be okay.” She leaned against the open door, biting her lower lip and smiling at him. She had never felt like such a schoolgirl around a man.
He had that steely look on his face, the one that she was coming to understand meant business. “Alright. But call me if you need me. I just want you to be safe, Sabrina.”
“I will.” She slowly closed the door, pulling it back open a few inches just before it shut all the way. “Lance?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not really like other people, either.”
“No, I’m really not.”
She let the latch fall into place this time, then she flicked the dead bolt and secured the chain. Leaning against the door, she listened to his footsteps recede down the hallway. Sabrina wasn’t sure what she was getting herself into, but she didn’t care. Lance was wonderful.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lance stormed through his front door and threw his briefcase and suit jacket on the sofa. His keys bounced onto the floor, clacking against the wood, and he left them there. He ran his fingers back through his hair, frustrated and angry. So much had happened that night, and he wasn’t sure if he had handled any of it correctly.
It was late, but he knew there was no way he could sleep. He headed into his bedroom to change into a t-shirt and shorts. Even the little bit of whiskey he’d had at Sabrina’s place wasn’t enough to take the edge off.
Sabrina. What had he been thinking? She was a human, but she was so goddamn irresistible. He hadn’t been lying when he told her she was different. Any other human woman would have been nothing more than an easy lay and he’d just move on with his life, but he didn’t feel that way with her.
He stepped into the guest bedroom, which he had easily transformed into a home gym. Instead of a bed, a weight system took up most of the far wall. He’d added a treadmill, a punching bag, a set of free weights, and a shelf for towels.
His mind instantly cast back to that scene in the parking garage. It had been difficult to keep his human shape when he saw that monster raising his fist to Sabrina. It would have been so fast and simple to shift and eliminate him, turning Max into nothing more than a blood stain on the concrete. But that would have traumatized Sabrina, not to mention he would have to deal with the security cameras he was sure were placed throughout the garage. He might have been able to dispatch him with his words, but sending Max away wasn’t enough to satisfy the animal urges that surged inside him.
Lance laid down on the weight bench and lifted the barbell from the rack. He slowly let the weight descend toward his chest before shoving it back up in the air, pushing all his anger into it. His animal urges hadn’t stopped with destroying Max: he wanted to scoop Sabrina off that couch and drag her into her bedroom. He’d seen the corner of her bed through an open door while she poured the drinks. She wouldn’t have turned him down, and he could have gone as far as he wanted with her, had he stayed.
Sabrina was a sexy, beautiful, strong woman, but he had caught her in a weak moment. The distress of dealing with her ex-lover topped by a large glass of wine—which she had downed quickly—had brought down all her defenses. He wanted to flatter himself into thinking that she truly was interested in him. There was no doubt that he wanted her badly. But she could just as easily wake up in the morning and realize she had made a horrible mistake. Humans weren’t supposed to date their coworkers, and Sabrina was already paying for that mistake once.
Lance moved on to the treadmill, turning it up so that his feet pounded against the base of it as he ran. It would have been an amazing night, seeing her naked in that soft bed and having his way with her. But he had let it slip through his fingers. At work the next day, she would probably have avoided him, embarrassed. Their easy banter as boss and secretary would dissolve to a stiff silence. What little pleasure he knew he could be guaranteed from working with her had been taken away, and it was all Max’s fault.
He turned the treadmill up as high as it would go; the downstairs neighbors would probably complain, but he didn’t give a shit.
There was definitely something wrong with Max. Sabrina had wanted to split with him, but he wouldn’t accept it. She hadn’t come right out and said it, but it seemed as though Max harassing her had been a fairly regular thing. Why hadn’t she said anything before? If not to him, to someone else? Wasn’t that what the human resources department was for? It was clear she couldn’t fend him off on her own.
The part that pressed like a thorn into the back of his brain was what she had said about him smelling like blood. She suspected that he had some deep, dark secret, and Lance was beginning to suspect the same thing. He was an abusive ass, but he didn’t strive to cover that up so much. No, there was something else about him that was off. Lance’s mind whirred as he imagined what the truth might be, hoping that he was wrong.
Sweat was pouring down his back. Lance knew he would have to keep his human body in shape, especially now that he no longer had the opportunity to exercise in dragon form anymore. There would be some time while he was at The Club to shift, but that just wasn’t going to be the same. He couldn’t spend hours soaring through the air or a day hunting in the forest. Most of the members who bothered to shift simply lounged their long bodies on the cool grass.
No, nothing was the same here in New York. He turned off the treadmill and grabbed a towel from the nearby shelf to wipe the sweat from his face. Draping it across his shoulders, he left his makeshift gym and stepped outside on the balcony. The night breeze dried his skin and tempted him to let his wings free. It would feel so good to soar up above the buildings and into the night, to get away from the fetid stench of humans that permeated the city.
Lance shook his
head. What was he doing? He was surrounded by humans, he worked with humans, and now he was actually considering getting involved with one. What would Uncle Bill have had to say about that? Lance leaned against the railing and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER SIX
Sabrina carefully swept a new shade of violet eyeshadow over her lid and studied herself in the mirror, wondering if it was too much. She’d been rather buzzed when she kissed Lance, and she had woken up that morning beating herself up for it. She wasn’t the kind of girl who threw herself at guys. She was aloof and self-sufficient, not interested in any man unless he was going to suit her purposes.
But Lance had performed that knight-in-shining armor routine, and it made her lose all her senses. She swiped a shimmering silver shadow over her upper lid and lined her eyes with a slate pencil. He hadn’t acted any differently at work, and she had done her best to do the same. But now that the hour was upon her, she was so nervous, she nearly cancelled.
The doorbell rang, and she dropped her eyeshadow back into her bag before trotting to the door. Lance had changed clothes since he’d left the office, swapping his khaki trousers and white button-down for a dark gray suit that made his blue eyes light up. “You clean up nicely,” she said as she let him in.
“So do you.” His eyes roved down her dark green dress, which just skimmed her knees, and quickly jumped back up again. “Are you ready?”
There was no turning back now. “Let me just grab my purse.”
The restaurant was lavish, the kind of place she couldn’t really afford. Sabrina caught sight of the prices of the entrees and then forced herself not to look at them again. She wanted to be able to enjoy her meal instead of feeling guilty about it. “What’s good here?”
“I have no idea,” he replied honestly, a sparkle in his eye. “I’ve never been here before. But I asked Chuck for ideas.”
A wave of horror crept under her skin. “You didn’t tell him we were going out, did you?” That was one thing she hadn’t thought about when it came to this date. Max hadn’t bothered telling anyone about their relationship, probably so he could have his pick of the secretaries on other floors. But Lance was—hopefully—different.
