I shifted sideways and crossed my legs.
“Yes, you’re right.” Fallon tapped a finger on the tabletop. “I noticed that the other night at Acropolis. I was checking out the interior for my final designs. No human women were on any floor above the third.”
“Love that place. Very glitzy, and the drinks are awesome. But it’s still got the same problem.”
Willow leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “What’s the solution?”
“It’s pretty simple. Put in an elevator.”
“An elevator?” Fallon leaned on the table, too. “In a club? Seems rather odd.”
“That’s because you’ve never needed one. The human-designed clubs are never more than two or three stories high because they walk everywhere. The Morgon-designed clubs only consider the need for flight. If you want Spire Maiden to accommodate both, you need to consider the needs of both.”
Lorian must’ve given in to popular majority as he didn’t dispute my name for the club.
Ragnor scratched his chin. “Won’t humans get annoyed going up and down an elevator in a nightclub when they’re in a party mood?”
“If you tuck it away around back and out of sight, I’d say you’re right. But, there’s an opportunity here to make our place even more unique. I’d put in a glass-encased elevator right in the middle of the dance floor. This way, people going up or down can enjoy the view and still feel as if they’re part of the party rather than in a closed-off room like most elevators. It would be a showpiece and a pretty cool way to see the venue, especially with Morgons in flight.”
Fallon smiled, revealing a dimple on one side. “Wonderful idea.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Nightwing. Would you like a round of drinks?”
A buxom blonde with sage-green wings like Belka’s stood at Lorian’s shoulder, so close her breasts brushed him when she picked up an empty glass left on the table. An accident? Yeah, right. He pretended not to notice.
“Yes, Deva. Ragnor and I will have another beer. Willow?”
She ordered a fruity cocktail. Fallon passed, but gestured to me.
“And you, miss?” Deva kept her tone light, almost sweet, but her eyes shot daggers. This girl despised me. Her gaze kept flicking to Lorian. Perhaps she was one of the faction who hated human women hanging with Morgon men. There were plenty on both sides who still wanted to regress back to the days of complete segregation. When I was in school, there was an organization on campus who actually held rallies in the commons area, protesting the mingling of humans with Morgons. KORC—Keep Our Race Clean. I would always laugh as I walked straight through their sad, little gatherings.
I gave her my don’t-mess-with-me-bitch smile. “Brevette on the rocks, please.”
The girl swished off with a distasteful glare over her shoulder. Lorian leaned forward. “Kind of a strong drink, isn’t it?”
I angled my body closer. “Not for me. I like my alcohol like I like my men, hot and burning and of the highest caliber.” Everyone knew Brevette was the most superior whiskey, imported from the Primus Province.
Ragnor interrupted our conversation. “What else about the structure would bother humans?”
I gazed out over the railing and considered. “Do you see the way there are bi-level platforms and stone steps going up the wall? And the shadowy niches off the stairwell?” The inside spiraled up like a mountainside with cave-like indentions and hollows where couples might find more privacy. I’d frequented these cozy little rooms for a rendezvous or two. “This seems to be a typical architectural detail in Morgon buildings.”
Fallon nodded. “It’s because we tend to want to move up. Part of our Morgon instincts. And we always prefer stone over steel.”
“You’ll still need this sort of detail in Spire Maiden. But, I would be careful. Humans aren’t used to walking on uneven surfaces, and we don’t have wings to catch our balance if we fall.”
As if to prove my point, a guy stumbled as he climbed the rough stairs set in stone leading to a mini-bar behind the stage area. His friend caught him by the arm before he fell over the edge.
“See.”
“We’ll need some sort of barricade or support,” added Ragnor.
“Not having wings makes us much more vulnerable to a hazardous fall, especially when you add alcohol into the mix. I’m surprised you haven’t had a serious accident yet in one of your clubs.” I aimed the last at Lorian.
“Here we are.” Deva set the drinks on the table, mine last, giving me another evil-eye.
I glared at her. “Do you have a problem with me?”
Willow flinched. Lorian froze.
Deva’s eyes widened. “Um, no.”
“Good.”
With eyes cast down, she scurried off.
I lifted my glass, staring at the honey-hued whiskey on ice. “Do you think she spit in it?”
Ragnor snorted a laugh. Lorian didn’t, narrowing his gaze. “Some Morgon women shy away from confrontation. Like Deva.”
“That wasn’t a confrontation.” I said to hell with it and took a gulp.
Lorian leaned forward. “Why did you provoke her?”
“Provoke her! Look, I don’t give a shit if Morgon women are passive-aggressive or whatever else their personality defects might be, but she’d better keep her evil glares back in her skull or I’ll show her my definition of confrontation.” I took another gulp. Everyone stared like I was some sort of anomaly they’d never seen before. I couldn’t tell if they were shocked or fascinated. Perhaps both. I added, “No offense to you, Willow.”
She shook her pretty head and sipped her fruity cocktail. “None taken.”
Lorian changed the subject with a shake of the head. “We should discuss entertainment. Should we split the stage evenly between Morgon bands and human ones? Or should we give humans more stage-time? I’m concerned that even though the club is advertized to attract both, humans who know it’s a Nightwing enterprise will avoid the place because of it.”
Willow shifted in her seat. “What would be amazing is if we had a band consisting of both Morgon and human musicians.”
I tapped a finger on my glass. “You know, I have a friend who’s a singer in a band. He’d have no problem singing with Morgons. If they were the act on opening night, we’d definitely be making a statement that all are welcome.”
“Oh, yes!” Willow’s silver wings fluttered, then lay flat again to her slim back. “I have some cousins who’re musicians.”
Lorian nodded, but said nothing. Always keeping his thoughts close to him. I glanced down over the balcony. “No way.” I waved down and yelled, “Jed!” My golden-haired friend looked up and waved back. I gestured for him to come up. “This has to be fate. He’s here. The singer I just told you about.”
Willow’s face turned pink when Jed ambled up the stairs and across the room to us, easy grin on his handsome face. Jed had that sort of effect on girls. I jumped off the stool and met him halfway, letting him sweep me in a big hug. Jed was one of the few guys I knew who hadn’t enjoyed the view of my bedroom ceiling.
“It’s great to see you!” He kissed my cheek. “Where the hell have you been since graduation?”
“Working.” I rolled my eyes. “As a matter of fact, I’m here for work, if you can believe that.”
“No, I don’t believe you. I thought you might be tied up with the Rowanflame guy you were dating or something.”
“Corbin? Oh, no. Ended a few weeks ago.”
“No one’s good enough for Sorcha, huh?”
I shrugged one shoulder with a smile. “We’ll see. Come on over. I want to introduce you to my colleagues. We have a proposition for you.”
I led him by the hand back to our table, noting Lorian’s stiff, almost aggressive posture. His beast crouched for attack.
No sex between employees, my ass. He wanted me.
“Everyone, this is my friend, Jed, from school. He’s the lead singer for the band Red Dream, who’s played at Acropolis a few times. Jed, this
is Fallon, Ragnor, Willow, and Lorian. I’m the marketing consultant for a Nightwing project to build the first ever Morgon-human club.”
“Cool.” His face split into a charming smile. Willow was about to melt into a pile of goo under the table.
Lorian seemed to lose his predatory edge. Maybe he had a sixth sense that figured out Jed was just a friend, nothing more. Lorian pulled him into a conversation about the possibility of splitting his time with a Morgon band. I let Jed slide into my seat and took my drink to the railing to scan the crowd and see who else was here.
I smiled at the sight of a human guy being mauled by a Morgon girl on the dance floor when a hand wrapped my waist, squeezing. I looked over my shoulder. Fuck!
“Hey, beautiful. You slipped out too fast the other morning. I was hoping for a special wake-up call.”
Before he could press his body behind me, I twisted sideways, bracing my hand on his chest. His silver hair was striking against his youthful face with piercing gray eyes. That was what had first attracted me to him. Realizing the package didn’t match the personality had been a disappointment.
“Torin.” I gave him the glare I used to edge men back. “I had to work.”
Glancing over Torin’s shoulder, I caught Lorian watching with keen interest. Willow and Fallon engaged Jed in conversation, but my tiger had fixed his gaze on me. Hmph. Well, I suppose I should use this weapon in my arsenal if it would work.
I smiled at Torin, not feeling bad in the least that I was using him for my own gain. Men did it to women all the time. I tilted my head, letting a fall of hair slide forward.
“Mmm. I’d like round two with you.” Torin’s hand came up, brushing my hair behind one shoulder, taking the bait I’d offered. His hand rested there, stroking my neck with the back of his fingers.
“Would you now?”
Torin’s gray wings flexed out, blocking anyone’s view from behind him. His other hand cupped my breast.
“Whoa, boy.” I grabbed his wrist, my sharp nails digging in, and flung it away. “I didn’t agree to round two.”
“Yeah, but you want it.” An arrogant smile creased his face.
Asshole. Men with bloated egos always assumed women were constantly clamoring to get in their beds. And quite frankly, round one hadn’t done that much for me. I had definitely left wanting.
“Um, no, actually. I don’t think I’m interested.” I removed the hand fondling my neck. “Let me rephrase that. I’m definitely not interested.”
Torin’s smile faltered. “You’re not serious.”
“Your response shows how little you know me. I don’t say anything I don’t mean. Once was enough for me. Now, back up and let me pass, please.” All politeness in my tone, but my eyes said something else.
His confusion hardened into anger.
“Move please. Now.” My tone had gone from sweet to sour in a blink.
Torin’s wings snapped to his back, but he didn’t move out of my way. I stepped around him to find Willow deep into a flirty conversation with Jed. Ragnor stood at the bar with another big and bulky Morgon. Fallon leaned on the railing by our table, looking out. And Lorian was…gone.
Seriously?
Well, the jealousy tactic backfired. It only pissed him off enough to leave. I downed the rest of my drink in one gulp, set the glass on the table, and stormed off downstairs. So much for my night of catching my quarry. Frustrated, I clip-clopped out the door, shivering with the cold.
“Damn.” I turned back around and walked down the hall to the office with long strides, wanting to get the hell out of there and crawl into bed. Perhaps a nightcap, or six, before I did.
I swung open the office door to find Lorian standing beside the desk, bracing both arms on the black marble, every muscle taut with strain. The door closed with a snick behind me. He straightened, fire in his eyes.
Yes. The little interlude with Torin had affected him.
“I just came to get my coat and bag.”
He gestured for me to take it, but didn’t move away from the desk, didn’t say a word. So what else could I do? I sauntered over in my most seductive walk and eased in close, brushing my hip against his leg. I reached across for my coat and let my hair slide over one of his flexed arms braced on the desk. If tension wielded a weapon, my body would be flayed from the energy roiling off the delicious, rigid wall of man next to me. He stood to his full height, the arches of his wings stretching higher, and shifted to stand mere inches behind me.
I looked over my shoulder, then froze, finding a frightening specimen of man and beast, tensing for attack. I schooled my features to show desire, hiding the edge of trepidation skating across my skin, for he certainly was intimidating no matter how much bravado I tossed around. Yes. I’d finally caught him; my roaming tiger was trapped. He lifted his hand and cupped the left side of my face, stroking his thumb across my cheekbone. I opened my mouth, inviting him to slide his thumb along my lips. But he didn’t. He dropped his hand and bit out a tight command.
“Turn around.” His voice was a rough caress, kicking my heart into overdrive.
“With pleasure, Mr. Nightwing.”
I pivoted slowly to face him. Too slowly apparently. Mid-turn, large hands gripped my waist and lifted me with a swift shift onto the desk. The sensation of my bare thighs—my thong offering no coverage—slapping onto the cold, hard marble rocketed a thrilling chill through my body.
“Lay back,” was his next command. I obeyed. Happily.
He stood between my legs and slowly lowered himself, molding his hard body to mine in all the right places. I draped my arms above my head. He slid his hands up the underside and wrapped his fingers around my wrists, bracing his weight on his forearms. Then he decided to give my face and hair a nice, long perusal. My body shook with anticipation. What was he waiting on? “As much as I enjoy being admired, do you think you could move a little faster?” There was no way he could interpret my breathy rasp as anything but yearning desire.
His hard expression held more than lust. His scowl denoted anger. “Why do you do this?” he asked, an acidic lash to his tongue.
“Do what?”
“Let men use you.”
I squeezed my fingers into fists, tendons stretching tight within his hold. “You are mistaken, Nightwing. It’s the other way around. I use them.”
“Is that so?” He dropped his face closer to mine, our lips mere inches apart, but the fever in my blood burned more with rising anger than passion. “All a matter of perspective, Ms. Linden. And either way, it cheapens you.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Get off me.”
“Not yet.”
I struggled to push up with my arms, wanting to punch him in his perfect face. He only tightened his hold, pressing his weight down, keeping me immobile, ruining my next plan to knee him in the balls.
“I know a few things about you.”
“What do you think you know?” My voice had completely lost its sing-song flirtiness, edging into hard-ass-bitch.
“I know that you’re more than smart. Your cleverness equals that of a seasoned, well-aged strategist. I know that you’re blindingly beautiful. A man could lose his mind in those pool-deep green eyes. And your hair…” His gaze followed strands, fanning out across the desk and my pinned arms.
His compliments did nothing to tamp the ire blazing through my blood. Rather than ease my temper, my pulse pumped faster.
“I know that you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes…or hands on. And I know a great deal about your heart.”
I scoffed and would’ve flung out a full throaty laugh if I were able to breathe underneath his constricting weight. He held me down, not for what I originally foresaw as a bit of kinky play, but to keep me from maiming him with my claws. “You know nothing of my heart.”
“I know you keep it well-guarded, fortified, and defended with your scathing remarks, sardonic wit, and firm belief that sex is only a means to a pleasurable end.”<
br />
“Isn’t it?” I squirmed beneath him, knowing the friction aroused him as much as it did me, though I pretended I was wholly unaffected, deepening my scowl.
“You know what else I see?”
“I don’t give a shit.”
“A scared little girl, too afraid to handle a real man.”
My fists were balled so tight, my nails were cutting into the flesh of my palms.
His mouth quirked on one side. “Once upon a time, a man wounded you, didn’t he? I’d say it was Daddy, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Fuck you.”
He cracked a broad smile, the bastard. “That’s what you expected of me…but not today.” Fire flickered behind his eyes as he lowered his head, closing the gap between our lips within an inch. “Your raging sensuality could make any man go mad, following you like the dogs they are whenever the pretty cat twitches by and lifts her tail. You wield sex as a weapon, striking whenever and whomever you please. But I won’t be your prey. There’s only one hunter here.” His grin sent a shiver down my spine. “I want something more from you, Sorcha Linden. More than your body.”
Pinned beneath him, I was vulnerable, exposed, and at his mercy just the way he wanted me. Body to body, lips inches apart, he spoke so close to me, as if he had a right to be in my space, which was unnerving and uncomfortable, and completely turned me on.
I unclenched my jaw and bit out, “That’s all I was offering, Nightwing. And after this display of dominant, alpha-male, macho bullshit, the offer is no longer on the table.”
Except, of course, I was still spread out beneath him on the damn desk, powerless to free myself.
His black wings snapped out to their full breadth, enveloping us in a dark embrace. I sucked in a sharp breath. His lips hovered over mine. When I was positive he was going to kiss me, he dipped his head toward my ear, skimming his stubbly jaw across my cheek and whispered, “We shall see.”
Windburn (Nightwing# 2) Page 3
