Bentley-Squire grunted, his lips pressed flat in disapproval. “I didn’t realize the Order was running a chauffeur service.” Sneering, he glanced once more at Nathan. “How much do I owe you for taking care of my lady tonight?”
Vibrating with menace, Nathan had already calculated ten different ways he could kill the male. He said nothing, half hoping Bentley-Squire would be fool enough to try him.
Jordana must have realized the dangerous direction of his thoughts. She pivoted back around to face him.
Please, she mouthed silently, giving him a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.
If she hadn’t looked so desperate, so terrified of what he might do in that moment, Nathan might have acted on the anger simmering just below his deceptively cool surface.
“Thank you for seeing me home safely,” she told him, her politeness grating after what had happened between them just a few minutes ago.
“Jordana,” Bentley-Squire said from his position behind her in the gleaming finery of the vestibule. “I’m sure this warrior has more pressing business to attend to tonight. You’ve delayed him from his work long enough, don’t you think, darling?”
Nathan ignored the other vampire, his blazing eyes locked on Jordana. If she gave him any inkling that she didn’t want to be there—if she looked at him even remotely like she had last night at the museum reception, when her gaze seemed to all but beg him to take her somewhere, anywhere, else—Nathan would have dragged her back into the elevator in that same instant.
“I have to go,” she murmured softly. “Please try to understand.”
She stepped away from him, back to the Breed male who was part of this other world she inhabited. The world that drew her back into its orbit, even while Nathan could still her hear cl**ax in his ears, could still smell her sweet juices on his fingertips.
He didn’t like the anger that seethed in him as he watched her fade out of his reach.
He wasn’t accustomed to letting emotion rule him.
He’d survived his childhood by learning to master his feelings—by learning to master every facet of his life with ruthless control and punishing discipline.
He wasn’t about to let that hard-won control slip out of his grasp now.
Without a word, without acknowledging Jordana or the sting of her retreat, Nathan stalked into the elevator and hit the down button.
Elliott Bentley-Squire had been right, after all. Nathan did have more pressing business to attend to tonight, back in his own world.
About damned time he got back to it.
Forcing her feet to remain rooted to the floor, Jordana watched the elevator doors close behind Nathan.
Instantly, she regretted that she hadn’t had the nerve to walk right in with him. Not to follow him like some passion-blinded fool but to taste some of the freedom he seemed to enjoy as someone who walked his own path, controlled his own destiny.
And yes, she had to admit, there was a wild, reckless part of her that did want to taste some of Nathan’s freedom firsthand, as the woman at his side. As the lover in his bed, abandoning herself to his every powerful, wicked whim.
But he hadn’t promised her anything tonight. Even if he had, she couldn’t throw her life away on an impetuous impulse.
Why not? some dangerous voice whispered in the back of her mind.
How long could she act as if she wasn’t slowly suffocating under the burden of what everyone in her life expected of her?
Nathan’s words came back to her in a rush—all the intimate truths he seemed to know about her, when a few days ago they’d been all but strangers to each other.
His words had made her angry. Even in his absence now, she felt cornered and exposed, stripped bare in a way no one had ever done to her before.
His touch had made her burn. Tonight Nathan had made her feel as if she’d been living and breathing for the very first time in all her nearly twenty-five years.
And she’d simply let him walk away.
Not that it had taken much for him to go.
Jordana hadn’t missed his seething reaction to her attempt to pretend nothing had happened between them—that he hadn’t just given her the most explosive experience of her life.
She’d done it out of fear, and out of a feeble respect for Elliott. She didn’t love him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to wound or humiliate him. Even so, Elliott was an intelligent man, and Jordana knew only an imbecile would mistake the intense, erotic energy that sizzled between Nathan and her for anything other than what it was.
“Jordana,” Elliott said now, his tone soothing as it broke into her private torment. “Darling, you can’t intend to stand out here all evening. Come inside with me.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, a frown etching into her brow. “Aren’t you upset with me about what happened tonight?”
He blinked at her slowly, then gave a mild shake of his head. “You’re home safe, and that’s all that matters to me.”
Was he serious? A bubble of hysteria climbed into the back of her throat. “It doesn’t matter to you that I was with another man?” At Elliott’s prolonged silence in response, she exhaled a sharp laugh. “My God, it doesn’t bother you at all. You don’t love me.”
There was no venom in her words, only a sense of disbelief that she’d never realized this truth until now. The discovery didn’t upset her. It liberated her.
“You never really wanted me at all, did you?”
He sighed heavily, his expression patient, kindly indulgent. “Are you trying to provoke me, Jordana? Of course I care about you. I always have—”