Windburn (Nightwing# 2) Read online

  “My private life isn’t any of your damn business, but I’ll be more sensitive to your animal senses in the future.”

  “My animal—?” he stammered. His eyes narrowed, jaw clamping shut.

  “Why don’t you just stop sniffing around me?” He didn’t retreat when I edged into his personal space.

  “Trust me. If I could toss you out the door, I would.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  I tilted my chin higher, a clear challenge to Lorian. I tucked a loose curl behind my ear. His intense gaze followed my hand, lingering on my cheek before landing on my lips. I moistened them. Lorian’s whole body jerked as if he’d been slapped. Wild eyes captured mine.

  “Be at the building site at ten sharp. Don’t be late or you’ll regret it.”

  I leaned over to grab my portfolio and bag, my breasts nearly brushing his arm, but he moved just in time.

  I whispered my response. “I’m shaking all over, Mr. Nightwing. Something makes me want to be late so I can see what kind of punishment you’d have in mind.” I shocked him into silence, then gave him my best bedroom smile. “But I’ll be a good girl.” I swished toward the door, feeling his eyes following every sway of my hips. “For now.”

  Chapter 2

  Lorian glared at me from the second I walked onto the building site. The wind blew open my charcoal trench and plastered my sea-green dress to my breasts, stomach, and hips. I closed the coat and double-knotted the tie. Of course, quite a few others watched me cross the lot, too—men with covetous eyes, women with menacing ones. Except Willow.

  I sidled up, squeezing in between her and Fallon. Lorian’s gaze, hard as stone, pinned me in place. I smiled and winked. He looked away, commenting to a human reporter at his side. The prim brunette hung on his every word, leaning unnecessarily close to him with her cleavage on full display. I smiled to myself, knowing she’d never make Lorian look twice. He was the kind of man who enjoyed the hunt.

  Fallon placed a hand on my upper back. “Good thing you’re punctual this morning. Lorian can be somewhat rough when he’s ruffled.”

  Oh, I bet he could. “Thanks for your concern, but I can handle him.”

  Cameramen gathered, human and Morgon, focusing on Lorian with a shovel in his hand. Blank and cool, he played to the cameras. Oddly, he came across natural for one so antisocial.

  “Today, Nightwing Industries marks and celebrates a uniting of the races with this building—the first to be designed that will take into account the needs of both Morgon and human alike. May it not be the last.”

  He stabbed the shovel into the soil with one arm. Flashes snapped. I couldn’t help but admire the way his biceps flexed tight against his thin black shirt. One advantage of the hybrid race was they didn’t feel the cold like humans did. I didn’t mind them having advanced circulatory systems. It simply provided more uncovered eye candy for me.

  With one statement and firm action, journalists swarmed in.

  “Excuse me. Ms. Sorcha Linden, right?”

  I turned to a Morgon reporter, a slender but fit brown-winged man with bronze skin and sandy-blond hair. I nodded as he shook my hand with a large, warm one. “I’m Bard Woodblade with The Gladium Post. May I ask you a few questions?”

  He was a print reporter. No camera crew.

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  He turned his comm device on record, holding it between us.

  “So how do you feel working with all Morgons on this project?”

  “It’s no different than working with anyone else. Except, of course, I have to look up a lot.”

  Bard flashed a charming smile. I gave him mine right back.

  “And how does your firm, Linden and Burke Associates, feel about Morgons and humans merging more in the business world?”

  Wow. This guy did his homework. He knew my name, what I looked like, and the marketing firm I worked for. “Our stance is that society can only succeed with cooperation between the races. Discrimination against race or gender isn’t tolerated by our firm.”

  He lowered the comm device and clicked it off record. “And how do you feel about Morgons and humans interacting on a more personal level?”

  “Why shouldn’t they?”

  “You approve of your friend Jessen Cade heartbonding to Lucius Nightwing?”

  Oooo. Sneaky reporter. I raised an eyebrow. “Her name is Jessen Nightwing. And I think Morgon men have a lot of appeal. Why should human women be denied the pleasure they have to offer? Does that answer your question?”

  He swallowed hard. “Quite clearly.”

  I sensed Lorian behind me. Only one man packed that kind of heat. Bard ignored the presence over my shoulder, pulled out his card, and handed it to me. “If your firm needs any more PR, give me a call.”

  Knowing who stood at my back, I tilted my head in a flirty gesture. “I thought journalists were supposed to be unbiased.”

  “True,” Bard winked, “but I’d make an exception for you.” With a seductive smile, he swept a small bow before me, then walked over to Willow, pulling out his comm device again.

  I swiveled slowly and looked up. His expression was a facade of passivity, but the beast prowled beneath the surface. I could feel his dragon lurking.

  “You do that often, don’t you?”

  “Do what often, Mr. Nightwing?”

  “Use your feminine assets”—his eyes dipped lower, coming up with a flash of heat—“to get what you want.”

  “A girl’s gotta do what she can. Men do it. Why shouldn’t we?”

  “How so?”

  “Men use aggression and dominance to plow through life, taking what they want. If a woman has certain assets,” I shifted my body to its most pleasing angle, “why shouldn’t she use them to her advantage? To get what she wants.” I angled my neck, torso, and hips in a way that beckoned men closer.

  He froze so still, I couldn’t see him breathe. His lovely, broad chest flexed into an immovable wall, and God help me, I wanted to touch. His beast struggled to hold it together. His face hardened.

  “Understand this, company policy prohibits unprofessional behavior between employees.”

  “By unprofessional behavior, you mean sex.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes dropped to the card I fiddled with in my hands. “Hmmm, well, Bard isn’t an employee of Nightwing Industries so I don’t quite understand why you’re so angry.”

  “Don’t you?” He’d edged closer, voice a rough abrasion, raising goosebumps on my skin.

  “Are you upset I might have sex with Bard? Or are you upset you’ve just come to the realization that having sex with me would break company policy?”

  His eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. My composure didn’t slip, but a smile did. I couldn’t help it. He was so furious and frustrated that he’d lost the ability to speak. And I had put him in this state. I wanted all that pent-up aggression unleashed in the most intimate of ways…on me.

  I swear the man was about to explode when Fallon interrupted. “Excuse me. Willow, Ragnor, and I are going to meet at The Torch tonight to do some research where humans hang out with Morgons. We wanted to let you know in case you’d like to join us. It would be helpful to have you there, Sorcha, and get your opinion on things.”

  I broke from Lorian’s fiery gaze, smiling brightly at Fallon. “Excellent idea. I’ll be there. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a lunch date.”

  Lorian scowled. I smiled brightly and sauntered off.

  * * * *

  “You said what!”

  Ella’s jaw hung open. Jessen laughed with her hand over her mouth to keep her food from spilling out.

  “I asked him if he was upset we couldn’t have sex because of his ridiculous company policy.”

  I sipped iced lemon water and took another bite of my sandwich. I missed this deli. Since graduation last month, I’d vacated all my old haunts, acquiring a new apartment closer to the office. Ella now had a degree in Fine Arts, but still lived at home under
her parents’ orders. Because all jobs in her field would have her mingling with Morgons in the Warwick District, she was forbidden from even applying. Her parents were so old-fashioned, they didn’t want her moving out until she married and her husband could “care for her properly.” Ella still hadn’t grown enough backbone to tell them to fuck off.

  Ella set her tea down with a clunk and shook her head. “Sorcha, I don’t know how you say things like that. I’d crawl into a hole and die.”

  “Hmph. Which is why my sex life is more exciting.”

  “I don’t even have a sex life,” Ella mumbled into her salad.

  “Need I say more?”

  “Well,” asked Jess, “what did he say?”

  “Nothing. He just stared at me.” I grinned. “Good thing for the both of us I don’t mind breaking rules.”

  Jessen laughed.

  “You’re a bad girl, Sorcha Linden,” said Ella as she forked a cherry tomato into her mouth.

  “Yeah, well, isn’t that why you love me so much? Your life would be boring without me.”

  “True.”

  I took another bite of my sandwich and directed at Jess, “Tell us, how’s life with your big Morgon man?”

  Joy brightened her face to another level of beautiful. I’d never seen her so happy. My heart swelled for her, and at the same time sunk, wondering what that sort of fulfillment would be like.

  “Life is beautiful,” she said, tucking a lock of black hair behind one ear.

  “Ugh. I hate you both.”

  Jess and I both swiveled to our petite, blond-haired friend. Ella’s pretty, heart-shaped face flushed pink. “Your lives are so, so, so…exciting! And I think I’m going to die of boredom imprisoned in my parents’ house.”

  For Ella to have such an outburst, she must have been beyond frustrated. She never lost her cool. Poor Ella.

  “Listen, why don’t you come work at Linden and Burke? I can get you a job in the office. Your parents know my mother and the Burkes. Surely, they’d allow you to work for us, family friends and all.”

  Her bright blue eyes glistened. “You think they’d hire me?”

  I scoffed. “Are you kidding? My mother owns half the company. Hell, I run the place these days. Of course, it may be something clerical.”

  Ella leapt out of her chair and squished me with a hug. “Thank you, thank you, Sorcha!”

  “Don’t thank me. You may still be bored, and you’re entirely too overqualified to be a secretary. Still, it will get you out of the dungeon.”

  She beamed, more excited about answering calls and filing paperwork than anyone should be.

  Jessen scooted back from the table and picked up her purse. “Sorry to break up this party, ladies, but I’ve got to go. Lucius is taking off early so we can spend some time together.”

  “Hmmm. Right. Spending time together. In bed?” I winked.

  “Stop it.”

  We laughed, standing to leave.

  “Why didn’t he and his dad come to the groundbreaking ceremony this morning?”

  Jessen talked over her shoulder as we headed for the door. “Lucius said his dad wanted Lorian to keep the lead on this job. We’ll be there at the opening of the club, though.”

  “Cool. Well, ladies, I think I’ll do some shopping before I head home.”

  “What for?” asked Ella.

  “I’ve got a little work excursion tonight. I need an outfit that’ll turn a certain Morgon rock-hard.”

  Jess frowned. “Be careful, girl. Lorian’s a bit untamed.”

  “Don’t I know it?” I gave her my wickedest grin. “And I have no intentions of taming him. I want him wild and unchained.”

  Jess smirked as we stepped out of the café into the blustery cold. I tied my trench tight, looking up at the sky. Gray cloud-cover promised snow soon.

  Jess gave me a hug and whispered in my ear. “Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”

  Chapter 3

  The brawny Morgon at the door glanced at my ID then took a long look at me. Yes, I’d taken extra care with my appearance. Chocolate-brown liner and gold shades of shadow highlighted my green eyes, bringing out the flecks of amber. I’d styled my hair until it fell in silken waves to the middle of my back. My charcoal trench tied at the waist, bare legs from mid-thigh down to my six-inch heels the exact color of my hair, promised a tantalizing sight beneath.

  After looking his fill, which I didn’t mind, he handed back my ID.

  “Mr. Nightwing and your party are waiting in his office. Take a left down the hall when you walk in, last door on the right.”

  Interesting. I knew the Nightwings owned half the Morgon clubs in the Gladium Province, but I didn’t know Lorian managed The Torch.

  Music pumped from the dance floor off to the right. I took a left down a long hallway. I walked into the office without knocking. Ragnor swilled a mug of beer next to a black marble-topped desk. Behind the desk, Lorian sprawled like a king on his throne.

  “Hello, gentlemen.”

  “Sorcha.” Ragnor tipped his glass, taking a long swig.

  Lorian didn’t speak a word. His eyes said everything, drinking me in, lingering on my legs, my hair.

  Before I’d fully entered the room, Willow came in behind me.

  “Hi, all. Sorry. Am I late?” She wore a sweet mini-dress in a glittery fabric, wrapping her thin frame in loose elegance. It suited her pretty femininity well.

  Lorian stood, removing his black leather jacket and slinging it over the desk. “We’re not officially on the clock.” He glanced at me. I raised a questioning brow. “But I thought we might set a few goals for tonight.”

  Hmph. I had only one goal. I let my eyes drift over said target—dark gray T-shirt hugging his chest and biceps and tucked into jeans with a black belt. Black hair cropped short, but not severe. A hard, square jaw cutting a more angular shadow by afternoon stubble. I longed to run my fingers along that scruff and feel the roughness.

  Lorian caught me ogling. I gave him my innocent smile. He straightened his shoulders into a stiff posture before he spoke. “I’d like to focus on two things with both Morgons and humans in mind—building structure and entertainment for opening night.”

  Fallon opened the door, decked out in clothes more casual than his formal office attire, looking pretty damn hot.

  “Good evening.” He smiled, glancing at me first. “You ladies look lovely.” Fallon was the kind of man who could switch personalities from serious professional to smooth charmer in a heartbeat, depending on the time of day. This time, the charmer greeted us with suave finesse.

  Willow and I smiled and murmured our thanks before Lorian cut off the niceties.

  “Time for work.” Lorian filled him in on the game plan, then we all started for the door.

  I spun to Lorian at the back of our group. “Do you mind if I leave my coat and bag in here?”

  “Not at all.” He gestured toward the desk.

  I moved to his side, dropped my bag, and untied the trench. Unwrapping and draping it across the desk, his gaze burned into my back.

  I’d chosen this dress on purpose. For him. Knowing the deep scarlet fabric, the same shade as my hair, hugged my hips and cinched tight my waist and bust, I’d hoped to lure one man in particular. If I was ever going to make the man break his tight leash of control, this would be the dress to make him snap.

  I spun and sashayed out, Lorian close behind.

  As we mingled into the crowd, Lorian called over my shoulder. “Ragnor, I have a table for us upstairs.”

  Ragnor nodded, took two strides into the central open space, and flew up and out of view. Fallon followed, then Willow. I started for the opposite direction, the wall off to the left, when a hand wrapped my wrist.

  Lorian frowned. “Where are you going?”

  Irritated, I rolled my eyes and nodded toward the wall. “The stairs.”

  I took a step expecting him to release me from his vise-like grip. Instead, large hands gripped
my waist, searing through my dress. I flinched and would’ve toppled in the heels if he hadn’t pulled me against his body. With one great beat of black wings, he lifted us both, stepping and pulling us through the opening in the railing on the second floor. My pulse pounded. My blood raced. Before I could even relish the sensation of his heat against me, it was gone.

  He steadied me. I stepped out of his grasp and snapped my chin up. “The next time, ask me before you do that.”

  He arched a dark brow, but said nothing. We joined the others at a tall round-top near the balcony. I sat at the high stool in front of the railing. Fallon sat across from me. Willow and Ragnor beside him.

  “Why didn’t Gallacius come tonight?” I asked.

  Ragnor snorted. “He didn’t think there was anything he could gain from an outing here.”

  “No matter.” Lorian pulled the stool behind me away from the table. He sat and hooked a boot on the lowest rung of mine. “His job doesn’t require him to be here.”

  Fallon faced me. “So tell us what doesn’t work here from the human perspective.”

  The Torch was built like a cave with tables, bars, and a dance floor. Like all Morgon clubs, the center of the building opened all the way to the ceiling where Morgons could enter and exit through a skylight or top floor terrace.

  “Number one,” I pointed to the winding stairwell against the cavernous wall, “that is horrendous for human women.”

  Fallon’s brow lifted. “Stairs? And why is that?”

  Leaning my body back, I gripped Lorian’s knee for support and hiked my leg across the railing, propping my ankle on top. Knowing I had his full attention, I let my skirt slide up a fraction more than I should’ve to reveal the curve of my upper thigh. Naughty, but I wasn’t averse to using hardcore tactics to get Lorian at this point. Pretending it was normal to bare myself in such a way, I pointed to my heels. “That’s why.”

  Lorian’s muscles tensed under my fingers. I bit back a triumphant smile.

  “Morgon women tend to wear more practical footwear. I’m assuming for take-off and landing.” Willow nodded in agreement. “Human women like pretty heels, like these. Do you realize how difficult it is to walk up multiple flights of stairs in things like this? Especially after I’ve had a few drinks? I imagine it’s a shocker when you notice very few, if any, human women make it to the top floors of Morgon clubs.”