Night Play(7)

Even worse, he could sense her own desire and it whetted his appetites even more.

"Which is your favorite?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

There was a black Victorian choker that had her scent all over it. It was obvious she had tried it on recently.

"This one," she said, reaching for it.

His cock hardened even more as her fingers brushed the black onyx stones. He wanted nothing more than to run his hand down her extended arm, to skim his palm over her soft, pale skin until he reached her hand. A hand he would love to nibble.

"Would you try it on for me?"

Bride trembled at the deep tone of his voice. What was it about him that made her so nervous?

But then she knew. He was intensely masculine and being under his direct scrutiny was as excruciating as it was disconcerting.

She tried to put the necklace on, but her hands shook so badly that she couldn't fasten it.

"May I help?" he asked.

She swallowed and nodded.

His warm hands touched hers, making her even more jittery. She looked in the mirror, catching sight of those hazel-green eyes that stared at her with a heat that made her both shiver and burn.

He was without a doubt the best-looking man to ever live and breathe and here he was touching her. It was enough to make her faint!

He deftly fastened the necklace. His fingers lingered at her neck for a minute before he met her gaze in the mirror and stepped back.

"Beautiful," he murmured huskily, only he wasn't looking at the necklace. He was staring into the reflection of her eyes. "I'll take it."

Torn between relief and sadness, Bride looked away quickly as she reached to take it off. In truth, she loved this necklace and hated to see it go. She'd bought it for the store, but had wanted to keep it for herself.

But why bother? It was a six-hundred-dollar handmade work of art. She didn't have anywhere to wear it. It would be a waste, and the pragmatic Irishwoman in her wouldn't allow her to be so foolish.

Pulling it off, she swallowed the new lump in her throat and headed for the register.

Vane watched her intently. She was even sadder than before. Gods, how he wanted nothing more than to have her smile at him. What did a human male say to a human female to make her happy?

She-wolves didn't really smile, not like humans did. Their smiles were more devious, seductive. Inviting. His people didn't smile when they were happy.

They had sex when they were happy and that, to him, was the biggest benefit to being an animal—rather than a human. Humans had rules about intimacy that he had never fully understood.

She placed the necklace in a large white box with a cotton pad in the bottom. "Would you like it gift-wrapped?"

He nodded.

Carefully, she removed the price tag, set it next to the register, then pulled out a small piece of paper that had been pre-cut to the size of the box. Without looking up at him, she quickly wrapped the box and rang up his sale.

"Six hundred and twenty-three dollars and eighty-four cents, please."

Still she didn't look at him. Instead her gaze was focused on the ground near his feet.

Vane felt a strange urge to dip down until his face was in her line of sight. He refrained as he pulled his wallet out and handed her his American Express card.

It was laughable, really, that a wolf had a human credit card. But then, this was the twenty-first century and those who didn't blend quickly found themselves exterminated. Unlike many others of his kind, he had investments and property. Hell, he even had a personal banker.

Bride took the card and ran it through her computer terminal.

"You work here alone?" he asked, and quickly learned that was inappropriate since her fear returned with a scent so strong it almost made him curse out loud.

"No."

She was lying to him. He could smell it.

Good going, jackass. Humans. He'd never understand them. But then, they were weak, especially their females.

She handed him the receipt.

Aggravated at himself for making her even more uncomfortable, he signed his name and handed it back to her.

She compared his signature to his card and frowned. "Katta…"

"Kattalakis," he said. "It's Greek."

Her eyes lighted up just a bit as she returned the card to him. "That's very different. You must have a hard time spelling it for people."

"Yeah."

She tucked the receipt into her drawer, then placed the wrapped box in a small bag with corded handles. "Thanks," she said quietly, setting it on the counter in front of him. "Have a nice day, Mr. Kattalakis."

He nodded and headed for the door, his heart even heavier than before, because he had failed to make her happy.

"Wait!" she said as he touched the knob. "You left your necklace."

Vane looked back at her one last time, knowing he would never see her again. She was so beautiful there with large, amber eyes set in the pale face of a goddess. There was something about her that reminded him of a Rubens angel. She was ethereal and lovely.