by Olivia Arran
But she was right. I had asked her to find me someone. I just hadn’t expected them to turn up at my door at just after eleven on a Saturday evening. My agency did all the hiring and firing. Which reminded me. “You need to hire new bodyguards. The ones I have here with me just took off at this guy’s word and went for coffee.”
“You won’t be needing new bodyguards, Ms. Silk,” the deep voice murmured through the door. “You’ll have me.”
My eyes were drawn back to the door as a shiver ran down my spine. Did he look as good in real life as he did in his photo? My eyes flicked back to the wallet in my hand, then back to the door.
Karen was bleating in my ear, her words blurring into one long grovel of apology. I hit the end button, my feet already moving, my hand already reaching out.
Clicking the locks, I took a deep breath. If this man could help me…
I swung the door open.
Chapter Three
Cole
Large brown eyes hidden behind wire frames blinked at me, widening a fraction as she looked up to meet my gaze.
Huh. She’d always seemed taller on billboards. In real life she was a tiny thing, at least a full foot shorter than my six foot four. She didn’t look much like the Natasha Silk the camera adored, with her hair scraped back into a messy bun and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked fragile and tired. Though there was no denying she was achingly beautiful, it just wasn’t in the sex siren kind of way.
She looked like a real woman, and I liked it. Maybe a little too much.
She stepped back and I strode into the apartment, her scent immediately wrapping around me. Lemon. Natasha’s scent was all citrus and soft and tangy on my tongue. Mouthwatering.
“So, Mr. Colstone.”
“Call me Cole,” I insisted, pausing by the couch and noting the neat pile of papers and the mug of tea. Lemon, like the woman. Unconsciously, I took a deep breath, dragging her into my lungs. I’d never smelled anything so… exciting? Familiar? Compelling? The words buzzed in my head, contradicting each other as I tried to focus. What the hell is the matter with me?
“Cole, then,” she conceded, tugging a well-worn cardigan tight around her chest, fingers wrapping in the soft wool just under her chin. “I’ll go put something more…appropriate on.” Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, the only outward sign of her discomfort.
“No need on my account,” I replied. “If I’m going to be your bodyguard then I’m sure I’ll see you in a lot less.”
Her eyes narrowed. “About that. I’m not sure if you—”
“I’m the best.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “And very modest, too.”
I shrugged, grabbing an apple off the counter and rolling it in my hands. “There’s no place for modesty when it comes to protecting a client’s life. Your life. It’s not like I’m bragging about my looks, or my sexual prowess, or how well I’m hung—”
I broke off at the small hitch in her breath, the way her flush deepened and stained her neck, the slight tremor of her fingers as she tightened her hold, and the way her lids lowered, her long dark lashes hiding her eyes. I could hear her heart thundering in her chest.
I took another deep breath, my nostrils flaring as the faint smell of her arousal wrapped around me, my cock immediately twitching awake. Okay, that was a lie. It had been at half-mast since she’d opened the door. I took a step forward, already imagining how she would taste, how she would respond in my arms.
Her eyes snapped wide open. “I’m going to go put something else on. You can take a seat, or stand, it’s up to you. I’ll be right back, Mr. Colstone.” She spun on her heel and marched off down the corridor without a second glance.
What the hell had happened? She wanted me—for fuck’s sake, I could smell her hunger—but she’d shut me down. Playing hard to get? I re-ran the last couple of minutes in my mind. Nothing. I had no idea. This was what I did for a living, noticing things, minute details that ordinary people overlooked, piecing them together like a puzzle. And I had no idea what had just happened.
A grin tugged at my lips, spreading over my face. I took a bite of my apple, chewing the tart flesh slowly. Well, shit. Things were about to get interesting—and I’d always liked a challenge.
Natasha
I almost ran the last couple of steps to my bedroom. Once inside, I rested my back on the door, letting it close with a soft click. What the hell had happened out there? One look from him and away I’d run like a frightened rabbit.
Then again, wolves liked to eat rabbits, and there was no doubt in my mind that this man was a wolf. Or maybe a lion. Not a bear—he didn’t have that grizzled, brute strength about him. Cole was made up of a more sinuous strength, his muscles rippling under his skin, his T-shirt so tight it didn’t take x-ray vision to see that he had a six-pack carved into his stomach, the ridges visible for my eyes to caress.
Definitely wolf. Like my family.
I closed my eyes, trying to calm my pulse that was thundering out of control. The pulse he could most certainly hear. I’d seen the way his vivid green eyes had narrowed, glowing faintly, and the way his nostrils had flared, scenting me.
I stormed over to my bed, flopping down in a huff and crossing my arms over my chest.
It was his fault. Acting all unprofessional and stuff. My sexual prowess, or how well I’m hung… Totally his fault that the image of him naked had catapulted into my mind and seared itself onto my eyelids. Totally his fault.
He’d invaded my privacy. Couldn’t a woman fantasize about a hot man without him knowing about it? And, he’d known, all right. With his shifter senses he couldn’t have missed the fact that I was hot for him.
But it didn’t mean I was going to act on it.
Though he was good fantasy material, with his dark hair flopping over one eye and his piercing green eyes, his wide, generous mouth… My hand brushed my lips, my eyes squeezed tight. What would his lips feel like? Would his kisses be soft and sweet, little nips and licks gentling me, easing me slowly into the moment? Or would it be an immediate assault, an avalanche of passion and possession? My lips parted under my fingers, a soft breath escaping as I imagined his phantom tongue piercing my mouth, his rough jaw grazing my cheek as he took control of my body.
It had been so long since a man had held me, since I had allowed myself the freedom to come apart in passion, to ride the wave of lust and desire without thought for the consequences. Because there were always consequences—always.
It was the cold shower I had needed, and fantasy-Cole evaporated with a pop of regret.
Just because the man was a tall, cool drink of hotness didn’t mean I had to scratch that particular itch. For me, or for him. Anyway, looking like he did he probably had a different woman every night. It might do his ego some good to actually get turned down for once.
Sitting up, I grabbed a pair of jeans and dragged them on over my shorts. If he was the best, then I needed him, but only if he agreed to do things my way.
Mind made up, I quickly dashed into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. Pulling down my hair, I fluffed it out and slipped some contact lenses in. Stepping back from the mirror, I smoothed my forehead and rearranged my lips until the woman who stared back at me from the mirror was one I recognized well.
Natasha Silk, supermodel and ice-cold bitch.
Chapter Four
Cole
The woman who walked into the living room wasn’t the same one who’d greeted me at the door. I could see the change immediately, and I didn’t like it. My wolf was snarling and snapping inside my head in confusion.
The softness was gone, her mouth set in a firm line, her eyes clear and sharp. Even her spine was stiff. Like she’d had a steel rod rammed up her. Just the thought of her ass distracted me from being annoyed, and I grinned at her, my smile widening at her answering frown.
Patting the space on the couch next to me, I unhooked my leg from my knee, spreading my thighs just to see what
she did. She didn’t disappoint. Her gaze flickered out of control between the space behind my head and my crotch.
Then she sat down on the only single chair in the room, crossing her legs and resting her hands delicately on one knee.
I wanted to stride over there and push between those clamped-closed legs and spread her wide, and then I would devour her mouth until she yielded, panting and begging.
But I didn’t. Instead I lifted a single eyebrow.
Her frown deepened a fraction before smoothing out completely.
What game was she playing?
She cleared her throat, her eyes flicking to that space behind me. “I think we started out wrong,” she stated.
I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. “I think we started just fine.”
She glared at me. “I’m interested in securing your…particular talents.”
“I have many talents.”
“I’m sure you have,” she replied smoothly. “I’m only interested in your professional repertoire.”
I’d never heard it put quite like that before. “Go on.”
“I have a stalker who is causing me a little difficulty.” She hesitated, then stopped, her lips sealing shut.
Rage flared inside of me at the thought of her being harassed, of being scared. I leaned forward, game forgotten for now. “If you don’t tell me what the problem is, then I can’t help you.”
“I’ve been getting death threats.” Her voice didn’t wobble or break, but the tone was all wrong. Flat. Devoid of emotion.
“How long have you been getting these?” I was all business now, my mind focused on the task ahead: keeping this woman safe.
“A while. I thought they were just the usual sort, at first—”
“The usual sort of death threat?” Disbelief colored my tone.
Her spine snapped even straighter as she tilted her nose a fraction. “I am a very successful model. Of course I get death threats.”
“Of course,” I echoed, sarcasm biting into every word.
She took a deep breath, then indicated one of the pile of papers on the table. “These are the ones we believe came from the same person. Whoever it is, they’ve escalated.”
I resisted the urge to tug the pile toward me, wanting to hear everything from her first. “Escalated how?”
“He mentioned things that he shouldn’t know, and is privy to information that should be private.”
“You say he?”
“There’s no name, if that’s what you’re asking. But all of my stalkers are men…” She shrugged, before carrying on. “They think that because I’m Natasha Silk they are entitled to a part of me, that they can touch what they want, that because I look and act a certain way on camera, that I’m asking for it.” Her eyes flashed to mine and they were filled with fury. “I didn’t ask to be born looking like this. Hell, I don’t look like her most of the time. But men don’t see that. They recognize me, and they paint their own picture. I could have lettuce in my teeth and a rat’s nest for hair and they still wouldn’t see me.” Her voice rose in a crescendo, her hands dancing in agitation.
“Do you?”
She sat back, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Do I what?”
“Have lettuce in your teeth? Because I can’t say I noticed any earlier. But then again, you don’t smile much, do you?”
She froze, then her eyes narrowed. “What is there to smile about? You’re not a friend or family. Why should I smile at you? You’re just the hired help.”
She was desperately trying to build that wall back up again, but I’d already seen the cracks. “Where is your family in all this? Are they supporting you?” I’d scanned her bio on the walk over, but there was no mention of a family.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“It is my business if you expect me to protect you. I need to know who’s important to you.”
She took a deep breath, her fingers curling in her lap. “My family won’t contact me out here so there’s no need to involve them.”
So, she did have a family. “Husband?”
My question was met with an icy stare. “Really?”
No husband then. The tightening in my chest relaxed, something I didn’t want to examine too closely. I had to ask. “Kids?”
“Do you think I’m the kind of woman who would leave her kids behind?”
“Let the ice queen bitch-act go and then maybe I wouldn’t have to ask.” The second the words left my lips I regretted them.
She vaulted to her feet, hands already tugging at that ratty cardigan. “I think you’d better leave, Mr. Colstone.”
Following her lead, I stood, but I had no intention of leaving. I might have come here not sure whether I was going to accept the job, but now? Yeah, I wasn’t leaving. “Listen, I can help you. I wasn’t lying when I said I was the best. I can keep you safe.”
She indicated the door, not meeting my eyes. “I asked you to leave.”
“Natasha—”
“Ms. Silk,” she corrected, her fingers twisting in wool.
“Ms. Silk, you need my help. I’m sorry if I came across a little strong, and all, it’s just—” How to explain it? My wolf took one sniff of you and decided he wanted a taste? She was human; she wouldn’t understand. And it wasn’t as if she were my true mate…
“What?” she snapped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You couldn’t be…” I wasn’t really talking to her.
“You need to leave.”
“Ms. Silk—”
A loud knock on the door had her nearly jumping out of her skin.
I raised a hand, indicating she stay quiet. “Who is it?” I called.
“Delivery for Ms. Silk,” a male voice called back.
Striding over, I peered through the peephole. A young man wearing a courier outfit was leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to his phone as his fingers scrolled rapidly. “Leave it at the door.”
I watched him glance up. “But... but I need a signature.”
“The man at the front desk will sign on your way out.”
Without a word he turned and left, his eyes already glued again to his phone.
“You give your address out?” I turned to Natasha.
All the color had drained from her face, and her breath came in shallow pants. She was petrified. “No one should know I’m here. Everything should be addressed to Ms. Brown.”
“But someone does.” I opened the door cautiously, glancing around. I couldn’t hear anything but Natasha’s racing heart, couldn’t smell anybody but her. I eyed the small package. “Had he ever sent you a package before?”
“No, just letters.”
If this was from him, he was definitely escalating.
Crouching down, I took a deep breath, trying to discern what was inside. Flowers. That was the overwhelming scent, but beneath there was a faint tang, metal maybe, or mineral? Only one way to find out. Keeping my back to her, I extended a claw, slicing through the layer of paper. Ever so gently, I lifted the lid.
“Lilies!” she exclaimed, her breath hot on my cheek.
My head jerked around, my face inches from hers. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get back!” I growled.
“But they’re just flowers! I thought...I was imagining...” Her hand reached out to stroke a petal, her arm brushing my shoulder.
My skin burned from the touch. She was so close, almost pressed against me. “There’s something not—” And then I saw it. A sliver of metal glinting beneath the petals.
Chapter Five
Natasha
One second I was stroking a dewy petal, the next I was flying through the air caged in arms of steel.
We hit the floor with a backbreaking thud as the breath was knocked clear out of my lungs. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I squeaked. He was on top of me, pressing me into the floor. I tried to ignore the delicious hard ridges of muscle that were digging into me.
Shoving him off me, I scrambled to my feet. “Thought what? That it was a bomb? Do you really think—”
Strong hands grabbed my shoulders, stopping me from stalking off in a huff. “Why wouldn’t someone send you a bomb? Somebody is trying to kill you, remember?” His words were harsh. A metaphorical slap.
“They wouldn’t.”
“You wouldn’t have asked for me if you really thought that.”
I shoved his hands away, his touch burning me through the thin wool of my cardigan. “I didn’t ask for you.”
“But you need me.”
“What I need is a drink.” I strode into the kitchen, heading for the freezer. Tugging open the door, I pulled out an ice cold bottle.
“Vodka?” I could hear his eyebrows raising from here.
“Yes. Why, do you want some?” I grabbed a second glass from the cupboard, slamming them both down on the counter.
Dammit! My hands were shaking. That little trip through the air with Cole had rattled me more than I’d thought.
“Natasha, are you—”
I cut him off with a glare.
“Okay then.” His voice had that ring to it, the kind that implied that I was crazy and he was treading carefully. “How about some tea, instead?” Sliding past me, he flicked the burner on, setting the kettle on top of the glowing flame. “Lemon?” His lips were twitching, one corner threatening to lift as he stared at me.
Tea just wasn’t going to cut it. “Lemon vodka,” I said, shaking the bottle at him. “Sure you won’t join me?” I cracked the bottle open, sloshing a generous measure into a tumbler with ice.
“No. I…” his voice trailed off.
“Hey! What are you doing?” He’d plucked the glass out of my hand. “If you wanted one, you should have just asked!”
