Burning Skies (Guardians of Ascension #2)(21)
Author: Caris Roane

Slung over her shoulder was a Marc Jacobs, her favorite.

She wore simple pearl studs and a Rolex watch, the latter her only real splurge of the last few years.

Glancing around, she approved of the building. Good security. She suspected that billions in transactions, floor upon floor, passed through these walls.

Whatever she thought of Warrior Marcus, she had to admit she liked the general feel of the place. The decor was high-end but there were a great many plants all around the lobby, indicating that the owner spent money on the working environment as well as the financial future of his empire.

Oh, great. She hadn’t wanted to approve of anything about him, but right off the bat she did.

She blinked.

Fennel.

Her heart rate started to climb.

Warrior Marcus had not even come into view, but his scent preceded him. She closed her eyes and weaved on her feet. Whatever her nightly encounters with him had been, the actual presence of his smell, the real deal, sent line drives straight up her thighs.

As usual, the well of her body clenched and she reached for the edge of the security desk to support her buckling knees.

“Havily.” The word shot across the space between what she knew was the warrior she’d been avoiding for four months and her tender ears. His voice, speaking her name, forced her lips apart. She had no words as she turned in his direction, just myriad sensations that ignited a familiar fire.

Her gaze found him and drifted over his dark brown hair, which was no longer corporate short and straight but long to his chin and curling at the ends. He’s letting his hair grow, his warrior hair. Otherwise, he was as she remembered him, his beautiful olive skin, his fierce expression, and his dark brows that were perpetually slashed over light brown eyes. He wore a tailored suit, although tailored seemed like an inadequate word to describe what she saw. He remained immobile as her gaze traveled in a slow, lethargic drift down his massive warrior body, clothed in fine-pressed black wool with a narrow pinstripe.

Again she approved and she didn’t want to.

She reminded herself that despite his accomplishments and his excellent wardrobe, whatever he was in this world had cost lives on Second Earth. He should have been battling; instead he had made a lot of money and bought suits and hired security personnel. She knew without having to be told that he owned the whole damn building.

Even though she was drawn to him like cream to strawberries, and wanted to get a fold straight back to Second Earth … like now … she moved forward and extended her hand. “Hello, Marcus.” How strange it felt not to address him more formally as Warrior Marcus.

She watched his shoulders rise as he drew in a breath and took her hand in his. His clasp was warm and strong, the pads of his fingers fleshy, but she already knew that since she’d felt him in her dreams.

The reminder of what they had shared brought a warm flush to her cheeks. She drew her hand out of his. “I’ve come on behalf of … certain parties of interest to you.” She could hardly say Madame Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth in front of a dozen inquisitive sets of Mortal Earth ears.

He nodded. “Won’t you come up?”

“Yes, of course.”

He guided her to the elevators, his hand never far from the small of her back. She had a strong sense that if an attack came, he would pull her against him with one hand and with the other draw a weapon.

That she was the object of such protective instincts sent ripples of pleasure through her abdomen. Again, her body clenched even when she didn’t want it to. She wished just this once, while in his presence, she could calm the hell down.

As the elevator doors closed and they were the only ones in it, she heard him grunt strangely, a sound followed by a very faint grinding. Teeth upon teeth?

A moment later the small space flooded with a cloud of fennel. She listed sideways, falling against the wall of the elevator. Worse followed when he clamped his arm around her waist to support her.

She gave a squeak and pushed his hand away. She took a step forward trying to create distance, a hopeless venture inside the stainless-steel box.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low, husky, one resonant seductive thrall.

“Please don’t touch me again, Warrior.”

He backed away. In the shiny metal that surrounded the elevator buttons, she saw that he had moved into the far corner and stared at her from beneath hooded eyes. More fennel wafted around her.

Oh, God. Coming to Seattle was a serious mistake.

The wheel came from the land of Sumer as did the first vampire, Luchianne.

—From Treatise on Ascension, by Philippe Reynard

Chapter 5

Marcus had never suffered in quite this way before. When he knew, when he had sensed that Havily was in the building, his building, the building he owned, he had experienced desire, confusion, urgency. He had not thought much beyond his need to make sure she was safe and that his building remained secure.

However, the moment he saw her, the moment he smelled her, the molecules in his body had realigned and sent every instinct in the direction of his groin and his need to bond with her. That absurd imperative had swamped him, screaming at him to get inside her, to release his seed into her, to take her blood, to penetrate her mind, all at the same time, to make her his, now and forever.

He knew she watched him from the reflection of the chrome plate around the elevator buttons, but did she have any idea how her honeysuckle scent now filled the shared space and worked his c**k into a state of hard readiness?

He had a couch in his office. Hell, he had two. Fuck that. He had a glass desk the size of a small barge. He’d clear it with a sweep of his arm and throw her on her back. He’d …

He closed his eyes, flared his nostrils, and dragged her scent into his nose. One stroke, he’d come. Fucking breh-hedden.

“Why the hell are you here?” left his throat in a hoarse mess.

“We … we have matters to discuss. You know we do and I want this … thing between us settled once and for all.”

And exactly how did she plan to do that? The image of her on her back and him on top made the only kind of sense.

When the doors opened he moved up behind her. He knew he crowded her but he couldn’t help it. His protective instinct was firing off missiles. He had his arm around her waist as he moved to the door to his suite.

He opened the door for her. He barely saw Jane as he ushered Havily into his office. He barked over his shoulder to his assistant, “We’re not to be disturbed. For any reason.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” returned in a sharp stunned whisper.