“I don’t mind driving your car,” Will flirted outlandishly, standing too and nudging Vectra’s shoulder with his own. “I could take a cab from your place in the morning.”
Vectra looked to Qasim, noting that some new demonic element had rippled to life in his dark stare.
“Um, Will—” she patted his arm “—maybe another time.” She paused, observing that her unintentional promise had brought Qasim to his feet. She swallowed hard. “Good night.” Quietly, she left the table having no desire to linger and witness the upcoming carnage of Will Lloyd’s soon-to-be-broken body strewn about the Dazzles dining room.
Will followed Vectra’s departure, his attractive features alight with approval. “Damn, she’s something else. I wouldn’t mind—” He gave a start, turning to find Qasim right next to him.
“Sim, man, what—”
“Stay away from her.”
Will gaped. “Sim?”
“You don’t talk to her.” Qasim breathed the words with stony intensity while stoically observing the man. “I get that it’s damn near impossible not to look at her, but you’d do well to remember to make those glances brief if I’m anywhere around. Am I understood?”
Stunned, Will could only manage a few rapid nods. Robb returned to the dining room, and Qasim went to say his good-nights. Alone, Will settled his weight to the edge of the round table where he fought to slow his breathing.
Vectra returned home in time to take one of the housekeepers up on an offer for a pot of tea. She was still a little too unsteady for sleep after having practically sped home, and appreciated the offer. While her tea was being prepared, she headed up to change into more suitable lounge attire. She returned downstairs to see off the housekeeper for the evening. She then indulged in the steamy pot of jasmine tea the woman had been so kind to set out in the library.
The night had turned cool, and the tea satisfied dual needs for warmth and nerve-soothing. Of course, Vectra realized the nerve-soothing would probably require a little more work. She considered spiking the tea with a touch of coconut rum.
She’d known Qasim well over two years. Until that night, she would have bet good money on the fact that he was one of the most even-tempered men she knew. Most often, that had to be the face he normally wore, but earlier that evening, she’d glimpsed the dangerous man he told her lurked inside.
Sure, he’d told her, but she hadn’t listened. She certainly hadn’t fully believed it, despite the instincts that advised her not to underestimate him. What she’d witnessed in the bottomless depths of his stare had been sheer rage directed at a man who’d had the nerve to proposition her. She certainly didn’t envy being in the spot Will Lloyd had perhaps unknowingly put himself in. Still, witnessing Qasim’s reactions that night was quite an eye-opener. An intriguing one that drew her in, like a moth to flame.
Vectra finished off her mug of tea and moved to pour another from the stout pot sitting on the tray. She was grateful that her hands weren’t shaking quite as much. She had scarcely sipped the second cup when the knock hit the front door.
She stood, indulging in another hasty sip before rushing out to the foyer. She stopped abruptly, exercising caution before she welcomed the unexpected visitor.
“Who is it?”
“Open the door.”
The order, gruffly given in a voice she recognized, galvanized her into movement. Disengaging the locks, she slowly pulled the door open until Qasim filled the entrance and forced the door wide to grant himself admittance. Vectra backed up, the sounds of her house shoes echoing against the foyer’s blush-tinted marble flooring.
“Qasim—”
“Where’s your staff?”
“Gone. I—”
The additional words caught and disintegrated in her throat when Qasim’s hands folded over her hips and he crushed her to the wall of muscle that was his chest. His mouth slammed hard upon hers, and Vectra granted him instant access. Her tongue was at first too stunned to reciprocate the savagely sensual treatment it received from his.
Qasim was unable to stifle his soft moans while his tongue swept the even ridge of her back teeth. Then, he once again tangled his tongue with hers.
There was a break in the kiss. Vectra studied him in disbelief as she swallowed and attempted to steady her breathing. “I thought you said—”
“Forget what I said.” He crushed her mouth beneath his again, drawing her close and swinging her slight form up high against his. One forearm was at her back while the other provided a steely shelf for her bent knees.
Vectra rounded up whatever lingering questions she may’ve had and tossed them as far and deep into the recesses of her mind as she could manage. The questions still mattered, but they took a definite backseat to the fact that Qasim Wilder had at last cast aside the issues that had resulted in keeping them from enjoying what they’d both wanted for some time.