needed to say to him?
Alison had been right to nudge her in the direction of this visit. It was long overdue; this nightly dreaming nonsense had to stop. In particular, Marcus needed to stop coming to her and seducing her, or whatever it was he was doing.
Also … she had a few things she wanted to say to him about his service as a Warrior of the Blood.
For all these reasons, she was nervous when normally she wouldn’t have been, even though she was fully aware that nearly everyone in the lobby was staring at her.
But then again, she’d come armed wearing her favorite Ralph Lauren. She had her hair in a tight professional twist. She wore serious closed-toed heels, which put her at six-two, taller no doubt than most of the women in the building.
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.
Alison had been right to nudge her in the direction of this visit. It was long overdue; this nightly dreaming nonsense had to stop. In particular, Marcus needed to stop coming to her and seducing her, or whatever it was he was doing.
Also … she had a few things she wanted to say to him about his service as a Warrior of the Blood.
For all these reasons, she was nervous when normally she wouldn’t have been, even though she was fully aware that nearly everyone in the lobby was staring at her.
But then again, she’d come armed wearing her favorite Ralph Lauren. She had her hair in a tight professional twist. She wore serious closed-toed heels, which put her at six-two, taller no doubt than most of the women in the building.
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.
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