NOCB 008 - Scions 02.5 - Patrice Michelle - Perception by Silhouette Nocturne Page A

tonight.” Abby spoke calmly, despite her racing pulse.
    “Huh—” the guy started to say, when she twisted his wrist and yanked his fingers from her throat. His other hand came up in a blur so fast she would’ve missed it if she’d been watching for it, but Abby acted on instinct, blocking his grab for her shoulder. At the same time, she kicked him hard in the groin. He bent forward, grunting in pain, and she swept her leg around, hammering the back of his thigh and then his calf with her foot as she swept his legs out from under him. When he landed on his back on the wood floor, she gripped his hand in a painful lock and growled her answer to his question. “I was invited! If you move even one inch while I cal the police, I’l finish what I started and you won’t walk straight for a week. Got it?”
    Abby didn’t expect an answer. He had to have lost his breath when he landed on his back. A low chuckle rumbled up from the floor a split second before the man pul ed from her hold, grabbing her wrist. The room suddenly spun and she found herself flat on her back on the hal rug, lying in the pool of dim light coming from somewhere upstairs.
    His wel -muscled chest rested on top of hers, smel ing of soap and covered with water droplets, as if the man had just come from a shower. Jean-covered hips and hard legs locked hers in place underneath him, while he pul ed her arms above her head. He peered at her, the hal ’s darkness shrouding his face. “Considering the fact I used a key and you picked the lock, I think you’l understand my doubts that you were invited.”
    “A key that you stole from its hiding spot!” she shot back, right before she jerked a hand free and brought her fist down toward the side of his neck. Anticipating that he’d shift his weight to avoid her hit, Abby jerked her hips free the moment he moved and then kneed him hard in his side.
    The man grunted from the impact, and she thought she heard a rib crack, but she wasn’t giving up her advantage. This time she aimed for his jaw. His big hand encircled her fist in a crushing hold, and she cried out in pain when he slammed their hands to the floor and rol ed back over her.
    “Damn, you’re a scrapper. Hold stil , little thief.”
    Indignant heat crept across her cheeks. No one had so effectively beat her like this in years. “I’m not the thief here—” Her words died off when his face came into view. Most of his hair was pul ed back, but several ink-black pieces had fal en loose to brush against his angular jaw. A stainless-steel barbel boldly pierced through the inch-long scar along the outer edge of his dark eyebrow, adding a rebel ious edge to his mid-thirties appearance, intentional y drawing attention to the imperfection as if to say, “Hel yeah, I’ve got a scar. What of it?”
    “She protests too much.” His eyebrows slashed downward and crystal-blue eyes skimmed her body.
    Everywhere he looked, she burned. Why did his skin feel so much warmer than hers? Apparently her excursion in the woods had left her colder than she realized.
    “How did you know where to find the key?”
    “I was told, but even if I hadn’t been, I could’ve found it easily enough.” For a brief second, he closed his eyes and inhaled, before his penetrating gaze zeroed in on her face and narrowed slightly. “Oh, you are a thief, sweetness. Every last inch of you.”
    The man had the sexiest drawl. It wasn’t Southern per se, but he spoke in a laidback speech pattern very different from most New Yorkers’ hyperspeak. Yet beyond the calm, stil -water-runs-deep persona he exuded, something else had set her libido into a tailspin. When he spoke, the dim light caught on another glint of metal. He had a tongue piercing, and she had a feeling the intense man holding her down knew exactly how to use it.
    But who would’ve told him about the key? Obviously, someone trusted him. Abby had never been more captivated by a person.

Chapter