He dropped her wrist, suddenly feeling regretful of his abrupt behavior. As soon as she was released, she took several steps back from him, rubbing her wrist, those wary blue eyes watching him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling more guilt course through him. He wasn’t usually an easily angered person. He’d made an art of being laid-back and carefree, but the events of the past few days had made him tense. Hell, forget cops and health inspectors, and anonymous callers, she made him tense.
He watched her, hoping she’d say something. She didn’t. Instead she frowned down at her wrist. More guilt rushed through him.
“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that,” he said.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed quietly. She still stared at her wrist.
“Listen,” he said, stepping toward her. Her head snapped up at his approach, and she stumbled backward, keeping the same distance between them. Fear shot from her like warning flares, making the air snap with the emotion.
Sebastian frowned, but then stepped back himself. He didn’t understand her extreme reaction, but he didn’t want to scare her any more than he already had. His behavior had been bad and he was more than a little irritated with himself at his lack of control. But he didn’t think it merited the kind of fear that surrounded them.
“Please forgive my rude behavior. I overreacted. It’s been a rather stressful night, but I shouldn’t take out my strain on you.”
She didn’t respond and continued to stare at her wrist. Her fingers played over the spot, caressing the place where his hand had touched her, as if to rub away pain. Suddenly he remembered the feeling of her skin against his. Its soft, velvety texture.
He pushed the memory away, trying instead to see if he’d hurt her. Despite his brusque behavior, he didn’t think he’d grabbed her that roughly. Not to mention, vampires did not injure easily. He couldn’t see any marks or redness marring the unusual paleness of her skin. Even the scratches he’d seen earlier were gone.
He paused, staring at the back of her hands.
“What’s your cat’s name?” he asked suddenly.
Wilhelmina’s gaze snapped up to meet his. “What?”
“Your cat? What’s its name?”
“Spot,” she said without pause, but Sebastian could see more uneasiness in her eyes.
He couldn’t tell if her uneasiness was over his question or just over him. Her expression certainly didn’t reveal if his sudden suspicions were founded—that she was the one making the calls to law enforcement about his club.
Scratches weren’t much of a lead. But then she had also set off the sprinkler, he knew that for a fact. Had that been another attempt to damage his business? Had she brought rats into the club?
He studied her, trying to see or sense something that would either validate or deny his thoughts. He found nothing. Just a small vampiress with the darkest blue eyes and palest skin he’d ever seen. And again, he was struck by the word Nadine used to describe her. Lost. At the moment, she seemed very lost.
Before he thought better of it, he touched her pale cheek.
“Spot? Good name.”
She remained perfectly still under his touch. Again, he felt a prickling of fear around her.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, certain that he must have for her to be so scared of him. Even now.
She shook her head, causing his fingers to rub against her smooth skin. Wisps of her black hair, which had escaped one of the messy knots on the top of her head, tickled the back of his fingers.
Sebastian swallowed as overwhelming desire rocketed through him, sudden and intense and as unexpected as a landmine. He frowned, telling himself the need rippling over his skin and tightening his groin was just an inappropriate reaction to stress, just as dragging her through the crowded bar had been.
He told himself that several times, but he couldn’t manage to stop touching her. Skin against skin, moving in gentle strokes. He wondered how her pale skin would feel against his body, and what her fingers would feel like touching him in return.
He dropped his hand from her cheek. Just moments before, he’d been seriously considering this woman might be the one who’d placed the anonymous calls. Now, he was thinking about... .
No, he wasn’t going there again.
Instead he focused on his drink-splattered clothes. The pink liquid had turned the front of his blue shirt an unappealing puce-y color.
“Well, I’ve only known you for two days, and twice I’ve ended up soaking wet.”
Her gaze moved from his face to his shirt. Then drifted slowly downward to the wet splotch darkening his trousers.
He felt himself react as her gaze lingered. He shifted, and her eyes snapped back up to his, the fear flaring again around them. But there was something else, barely perceptible under the sharp emotion.