Not as professional.
“And except Darla,” I muttered sulkily, wishing I’d just shut up for once.
“I treat you no differently than anyone else under my care.”
I glanced up, startled. His hand was out, directing me in front of him. “Please, walk with me.”
I trudged forward, my lingering sulkiness immature, but not something I could help. Somewhere deep inside me, I knew I belonged with him. My body tried to merge with him as its other half. Being near him, next to him, touching him, sent me into an unexplainable euphoria. I’d felt it that night on the street, even having never seen his face before that moment. To now hear that that door was closed, that I couldn’t even have him as a strictly sexual situation—even though that would only satisfy part of the hunger—was like a punch to the gut. It ripped at me.
“I realize that, in your situation, it seems impossible to ever make this your home.” His footsteps were light even though his body’s size was just shy of daunting. “But when you have more training under your belt, and can protect yourself reasonably, we can let you out of your cage.”
A glance told me that he did, in fact, joke. I blinked at his smile, the effect pushing out an inner light within him that rendered me speechless.
His gaze drifted to mine, his smile losing focus.
I blurted, “I didn’t think you had a sense of humor.”
His gaze got more acute. “Officially, I don’t.”
“Do you ever get to let your hair down?”
“Can’t. Too short.”
“Ah. Now I see why you don’t joke. Lack of material.”
His lips tugged upward a little more. Then drooped again. “I don’t have a lot of time that’s my own. My race is one of bred hunters. I maintain my position through calculating threat and violence. If I’m challenged, I must meet that challenge and disable my opponent.”
“Like a lion in charge of a pride?”
“Exactly. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for laughter.”
“People think a laughing man is a weak man?”
“Not weak, per se, but not alert. Not serious. They peg him as vulnerable.”
“Then I better get good at what I do so I can tell some jokes. I’ll be ready with a wallop so you can laugh at my sparkling wit.”
“You better get good at what you do, and find some sparkling wit. Uphill climb in your future.”
“Go back to official. Your jokes are the pits.”
He chuckled quietly.
We crossed the threshold of my hidden domain and he halted and turned to me. His eyes were intense, but puffy, and it occurred to me he’d taken vigil, watching over me as I slept. He’d been up for about twenty-four hours, and if I knew him at all, he wouldn’t go to sleep now. Not with another night of duties to get through.
His large, broad shoulders squared to my body. He leaned at the waist, his face coming within inches of mine. His hand came up, fingers lightly grazing my jaw. “Please open the link. It’s comforting knowing you’re okay.” The heat from his sweet breath ruffled my eyelashes. His smell and presence permeated my head, making me dizzy, setting my body on fire.#p#分页标题#e#
I tugged away that big rubber stopper, opening up to him, feeling him. A moan got trapped in my throat as my hand found its way to his hard pec.
He burned with arousal. That heat was tempered with regret, however. He didn’t want to turn me into the pet everyone thought I was. He didn’t want to use, and then discard me, knowing his choice had to lie elsewhere.
What a cute sentiment. Best left for another time, though, I needed him with a passion that took my breath away.
I reached up on tippy-toes, my lips aiming for his, my hand slipping down that mouth-watering body and cupping his huge, hard bulge. Applying pressure, I guided my other hand around him, drawing him near.
I met resistance.
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes closing, inhaling my scent of arousal. “I want you to rise on your own. I want you to excel without my influence. I want you to earn the respect you deserve.”
“Good call. I’m in. First, can we just knock this out? I’ll be quick, I promise.”
His lips quirked at the corners. “You sound like Charles.”
“I might hurt you for that comment.”
“Hmm.” His eyes closed again, his smile growing. “If only. This is the best smell to date. Gingerbread cookies in front of a wood burning fire on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s a scene, not a smell.”
“It’s my favorite scene, the one before I lost my parents. I remember the smells perfectly.” His eyes met mine, somber, but soft. “I must go. Duty.”
Suddenly, I stood in the middle of a hallway, sconces throwing next to no light into my path, alone. He’d ripped his presence away so fast, I didn’t even see him go. My groin felt so tight, it hurt.