Marked

by Siobhan Kinkade

  Soon, the ballroom was full and bustling, and she was thankful for the distraction of so many people. Putting on her best hostess face, Tabitha picked up her feet and whisked through the crowd, offering glasses to anyone without, and promising refills for those who were looking empty. She raised one arm over her head and snapped her fingers, and two young men with fresh bottles of champagne fell into step behind her, refilling and offering dashing smiles.

  This was what Tabitha loved about her job. She enjoyed making others happy. Mingling with these people, listening to the hushed whispers of approval on the decorations she had chosen for Russell, and feeling pride swell in her chest for her employees was exactly what she needed to distract herself from the dangerously sexy man who kept looking back at her. Who cared if she didn’t get the credit for the design? The point was that people were enjoying themselves.

  Men and women dressed in the finest evening wear money could buy brushed past Tabitha and her employees as if they were nonexistent unless they had something a particular guest wanted, and she liked it that way. They were just scenery, after all.

  Well, mostly. Every few moments, Russell’s gaze would drift back in her direction, sliding over her form and leaving a sizzling trail every place it touched. Even in a room full of people, the emotion in his eyes was oddly intimate, and it only served to heighten her awareness of him more.

  A string quartet played a soft, classical melody somewhere in the background. As people began to dance, she scanned the edges of the room, checking the decorations to make sure everything was still absolutely perfect. Russell had disappeared into the crowd and she thought about going to find him. So what if he was the owner of the house and the host of the evening? She wanted to reassure him that every single scrap of her hard work was perfect. At least, that’s what she told herself. Tabitha refused to admit, even in her own mind, that she just wanted to look at him again. And touch him. And do much, much more. It seemed that even though she was just the hired help, his personal approval meant more to her than the air she breathed.

  He re-entered the room from the far hallway, and she felt him before her eyes ever found him. He watched her intently as he passed through the crowd, a smile on his lips and a kind word for each person in the room. He shook hands and kissed cheeks—much to Tabitha’s immense jealousy—and moved around the room with grace and ease that completely defied his imposing size. Even through the bustle of the expensive-looking partygoers, Tabitha never lost sight of him. His presence, like a beacon in the dark, commanded the attention of everyone in the room. He certainly had hers. And when he moved to the podium near the balcony, everyone turned to face him, expectant. Even the music filtered to silence. Lucky for Tabitha, nobody could hear her pulse pounding in the sensitive flesh between her legs.

  "Welcome to the Blue Moon Ball," he boomed. Russell needed no microphone; his voice was loud, clear, and held a sharp, sensual edge that slithered down Tabitha’s spine and seated itself firmly in the pit of her belly. "It is good to see so many old friends and to greet so many new ones. As you know, tonight is special to all of us." Murmurs of assent passed through the crowd. She motioned subtly, and as they had practiced earlier, Tabitha and her staff moved into place around the room. Everyone had a full glass when he next spoke. "We come together tonight to celebrate our heritage, and to present our future. I ask you all, please enjoy your night." As he spoke, she noticed that the candles on the table behind him were caught in a draft and sputtering like they would go out. She was not going to have that.

  Tabitha narrowed her eyes and willed the candles to catch again, adding a protective block above and to the side to deflect the draft from the overhead vents. They flared slightly then continued to burn as if nothing were wrong. Russell paused for only a second, and from across the room she saw his nose twitch.

  Uh-oh…

  "The third full moon in this season of four will peak soon, but until that time, let our celebration commence!" His gaze zeroed in on her from across the room as he stepped down from the podium, and Tabitha felt herself drawn to him by some invisible, magnetic force. He seemed to see no one else in the room, his concentration was so strong. When he walked, he moved with a sense of purpose unmatched by anyone she'd ever seen before. She needed to run, to move away and busy herself with some chore that she had invariably missed, but the room seemed to part as if he were Moses standing before the Red Sea, and the path led him directly to her. She could not make her feet move.

  "Fantastic evening," Russell said, another of his predatory smiles curling his lips. His teeth gleamed white under the sparkling light of the ballroom, and they looked very sharp.

  Had his facial hair grown since he entered the room? She could have sworn he was mostly clean-shaven this morning.

  "Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Tennyson?"

  "Russell," he corrected, "and yes, I am." He leaned close to her and inhaled deeply. Rather than moving away, he lingered for a moment, those sinful eyes locking onto hers in an almost challenge. What would have been a creepy move on anyone else was absolutely flattering coming from him. "You smell delectable."

  Tabitha stifled a gasp. "Thank you?"

  He chuckled as he righted himself. "You are very welcome." He plucked the last glass from her tray and raised it toward her. "To a beautiful evening, prepared by a beautiful woman." Tabitha giggled a bit maniacally and took a step backwards, toward the kitchen. A large, neon sign in her mind pointed to him and blinked the word DANGER over and over again.

  "Let me go refill this tray."

  "Wait." He caught her wrist to stop her, and his skin nearly burned it was so warm. "Miss Richardson."

  "Tabitha."

  "Tabitha." His eyes were mesmerizing...she could easily get lost in them. "Dance with me first." He spun her out to the side before she could respond, taking her fingers in the hand that held his glass and curling his other arm around her waist. She gasped, and he laughed, a deep, rich sound that vibrated all the way to her toes. They were close enough that her breasts brushed against his chest with each step he took. The scent of expensive cologne filled the air around her, and she fought not to press her nose to his throat and breathe him in. He smelled good. He looked good. She was willing to bet he tasted pretty good too.

  Stop that right now!

  He led her around and around to the center of the room, pulling her closer with each turn until she was pressed tightly against him from shoulder to knee. She felt like she was flying as he twisted and twirled her, that same low rumble of laughter shaking her on her feet, and it would take nothing at all for her to lean forward and press her lips to his…

  The serving tray still tucked under her arm slipped, and immediately snapped her out of her fantasy world.

  Out. Of. Your. League.

  Cera’s words rang in her head, clear as a bell. She withdrew from his arms with a mumbled apology, a little dizzy from the dance—or his nearness, she wasn’t sure which—and started back toward the ballroom doors. Russell was immediately beside her, catching her by the arm and drawing her to a stop.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, as breathless as she. Good to know she wasn’t the only one affected by their nearness. But not good as well…knowing his interest only magnified the inappropriateness. Cocking her hip to the side, she held the tray up between them and raised one eyebrow.

  "You do remember that I'm the hired help?" she asked with a sardonic twist to her mouth.

  ***

  Russell gazed at her steadily, unfazed by the snarky comment.

  “Let me remind you that I am the one writing your check at the end of the night,” he said.

  “For my services as a caterer and events planner,” she countered. She was a brazen one. Had it been any other hired hand standing before him with such a tone, it would have surely cut her throat as well as her paycheck. “I am here in a professional capacity, Mr. Tennyson.” The only question was, why was she suddenly so defensive?

  “Russell,” he said,
correcting her yet again, and felt a mocking smile slide into place.

  “Russell,” she echoed, “I have a lot of work to do before the night is over. I remind you again, I am only the hired help.”

  "You are also the most beautiful thing in this room."

  Her big, green eyes went wide, and her mouth fell into a perfect, little O. "I bet you say that to all of your women." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Tabitha cringed. He let go of her wrist, dropping his hand to his side. The comment cut deep, and he could tell by the shock in her eyes that his response had killed a witty follow-up to her first zinger, and surprised her into silence. He might have been touted as a playboy by the media, but she had no idea the depth of the personal insult as a result of her blithe comment.

  "Don't believe everything you read, Tabitha," he said darkly, and a look of panic skittered across her features. He didn’t doubt for a moment that the scowl wrinkling his face made him look like every bit the monster he really was.

  But despite the biting comment, he still wanted her, more fiercely now than before. She was strong, and unafraid. That stance might be a bit unwise, but it nonetheless drew him to her. It made him want to possess her in any and every way possible. He started to reach for her again, but a familiar face appeared in the doorway over Tabitha’s shoulder, and he brought his hand back to his side.

  "Tabby...I need you..." Cera hissed, breaking the tension. Tabby, huh? Russell smirked and Tabitha cringed.

  "Tabby?" he asked, following his thoughts, and one eyebrow quirked toward his hairline. She chewed her bottom lip, the sight very nearly sending him into orbit right there, and nodded. "As in, a breed of cat?"

  “Me-ow," she snorted, raking her fingernails toward him in the air. The monster inside him wanted her, was clawing at his defenses, telling him to pounce. The little witch was sexy as hell and had no idea. His dick twitched against his zipper, begging to be freed. But there would be no relief to the delicious torture until he had her right where he wanted her. Russell took another step toward her, the scent of her magic swirling around him unchecked.

  "How...fitting," he breathed. Tabitha stifled a groan by biting her lip again—God, how he wanted to be the one to nibble on that succulent bit of flesh—and swayed toward him just a fraction before taking a step away. She slipped out of his immediate presence, moving with small, backward steps. "I should refill this tray and make preparations to serve the buffet now." The simple rebuff was enough to remind him where they were and that she was, in fact, his subordinate. He nodded stiffly and allowed his earlier professionalism to return. He hated that…because professional, while what they both needed, was not at all what he wanted to be with her.

  "After the meal is served, you should consider your dance card full this evening," he said, his tone cool and businesslike. "I will have another dance with you, Tabitha. Anyone who smells so strongly of magic must surely be interesting."

  ***

  As he turned with a smooth flourish and strode back into the crowd, Tabitha spun around toward the door and ran. She blew past Cera and into the foyer, having to physically halt herself from continuing out into the night. In the cool stillness before the open doorway, Tabitha leaned against the wall and sucked in several deep breaths.

  "What the hell was that all about?" Cera asked as she entered the room. It wasn't until her friend’s steady hand found her shoulder that Tabitha even realized she was trembling. "God, girl...what is wrong with you? Did he do something to you? Do I need to go whip his ass?"

  Her shaky gaze met Cera's. "He smelled magic on me." Instead of saying I told you so, Cera grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into a fierce, bone-crushing hug.

  "Maybe it was just a bad pickup line," she offered, but it was no consolation.

  "No," Tabitha said, pulling back to look into her friend's face. "When he first came into the room, he actually sniffed me."

  "Okay...weird..."

  "I know."

  "Well," Cera said, clearing her throat nervously, "I think I’m glad I broke that up.” She cringed, then hesitated. “I know you don’t need anything else to worry about, but I really do need your help.”

  Tabitha sighed. “Tell me now…before the night gets any worse.”

  “All right.” Cera took a deep breath, and puffed her cheeks out as she blew it through her lips. “One of the new boys is trying to pick a fight, and the only person who can straighten his skinny ass out is you."

  Tabitha rolled her eyes and followed Cera back into the kitchen, her mind still tossing Russell's words around like a badminton birdie. He told her she smelled good…and then he told her that he smelled magic on her... He was also feverish, and he looked like he'd grown two days' worth of facial hair in only an hour...not to mention looking like he'd spent six months in a gym since earlier this afternoon...and his teeth looked so sharp...and he'd found Cera's nickname for her a little too amusing…

  The platter Tabitha held went clattering to the floor as realization overtook her. The Blue Moon Ball in his private residence should have been the first clue, but she'd bypassed that completely, what with the hormones in her body raging at the very sight of Russell Tennyson. Even as the witch-in-residence, it would have been difficult to pick him out of the crowd. Sure, she'd heard rumors of Russell's more…feral tendencies…but she never would have dreamed that there was any truth to them at all.

  "Tabby...are you okay?" Cera asked. Nodding mutely, Tabitha bent and picked up the platter, still turning the thought over in her head. She wasn't ready to vocalize it yet, but the sheer determination on Russell's face when he left her standing on the ballroom floor told her everything she needed to know. "You sure? You don't look okay." Had she not been a zombie after such a cataclysmic revelation, something certainly would have been wrong. At this point, she welcomed the numbness that came with her shock. But her friend was looking worried, and she had to snap out of it. Fast.

  "I'm fine...just wandered off for a second," she said, and giggled nervously. Cera eyed her like a hawk eyes a field mouse. Of course she didn’t believe it.

  "In all the years I've known you I have never seen you drop a single thing." She paused and looked Tabitha up and down. "That son of a bitch really got to you, didn't he?"

  Oh, and how...

  "I'm fine, I promise."

  Tabitha was still mulling over the revelation that Russell was more than he appeared as she put an end to the argument—over the ownership of an iPod that was easily resolved by checking the pilfered item’s system settings—and fired the thief. Cera, the strong-arm of the pair, grabbed the kid by his shirt and hauled him out of the house, stopping only long enough for him to grab his coat and keys, while Tabitha turned back to her work and stared at the items before her.

  She was still distracted by roiling thoughts of Russell as she mentally ticked off her progress, then picked up her serving utensils and re-entered the ballroom. The crowd was also too distracted to notice her, which she liked, as nobody would notice if she gave herself a little bit of help.

  With a wave of her hand, the steamer lids vanished to reveal a beautiful array of meats—mostly medium-rare—and accompaniments that seemed more an afterthought than part of the meal. Another huge, yellow flag had been waved right in front of her…near-bleeding meat, all over the place. She should have seen it coming long before she ever got to this point. As she straightened the last stack of plates, still berating herself for her utter lack of foresight, Russell seemed to materialize at her elbow.

  "Well done, witch." His lips brushed the cuff of her ear, sending a jolt of sensation straight to her sex. Gasping at the outward use of the term, Tabitha turned to face him and nearly suffocated. He was almost on top of her. Every muscle in his body was rippling with tension, and those icy, intelligent eyes also looked much, much wilder than before. "You have a startling eye for detail."

  "As do you...," she nearly choked on the last word, "wolf." She swallowed hard and held his gaze. Calling a shifter out was
a large risk, both personally and professionally. In her limited experience, they liked their secrecy, and this could easily go either way...for more than just her paycheck.

  “Touché.” His lips curved into a gentle smile, but even that sight did little to settle her raging nerves. He was too close to be anything but dangerous. “I was right to hire you…you are quite the observant little minx.”

  “Does that mean your henchmen will be coming to eat me now?” she asked with a quirk to her own lip. Playing coy was also probably dangerous, but when the sort of fear that choked her brain was present, she'd developed the natural reaction to laugh in its face. Perhaps that's why she'd been so lucky as to catch the attention of a male werewolf. An alpha at that. He raised one eyebrow at her, but remained silent. "Wrong word?" A nod. "Minions, maybe?” He shook his head, the smirk on his lips turning into a full-blown smile. “Either way, should I be worried about your pack ripping me limb from limb?” The question earned a deep, hearty laugh.

  "My pack has scarcely noticed you."

  "Yet you know everything there is to know about me."

  "Not everything." The way he looked at her, determined and hungry, caused a chill to run through her body. The anticipation she saw in his eyes settled at the base of her neck, trickling through her muscles in a way that was both wholly inappropriate and deliciously wicked.

  "But you...you smelled magic on me."

  "My kind have excellent senses." He leaned close, his lips nearly brushing her ear. "I smell other things on you as well. Fear first." He sniffed again, the tip of his nose brushing along the corded vein in her neck. "Determination. Arousal." His tongue followed his nose, leaving a cool, wet trail up her throat. Tabitha's smart response disappeared along with her breath and all coherent thought. She knew his intentions, felt his desires. And after that, she knew she wanted exactly the same thing.