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She pursed her lips for a moment, avoiding eye contact as a light blush dusted her cheekbones. “Well, it’s not anything sexual. I can promise you that.”
Relief made my posture relax. I didn’t even know I needed to hear that. “I see.”
“It’s just…a nickname. I went to a vampire club one night to meet with a potential client who wanted some magic done on his new dungeon. He didn’t want any supernatural creatures to be able to use their abilities on humans.”
“Interesting.”
She nodded. “I dressed for the part—leather pants, boots, corset. I mean, I pulled out the works. I did everything to look like I belonged in a bondage dungeon.”
“That’s why you wore that outfit last night.”
“It just makes me feel powerful. It makes me feel good to dress myself up in such a different way. It started as a costume, and now it’s just part of my persona when I meet with vampires to help them with magical items.”
It was hard to admit that seeing her dressed like a biker chick was intensely arousing. Her ass looked incredible in that skirt. Her thighs looked delicious in those fishnets, and her buxom breasts had been barely contained by that corseted halter top. What she wore last night surprised me. That was something I liked about her, that she surprised me in good ways.
But when would those surprises turn bad?
“Don’t worry,” she giggled, “I’m not going to ask to spank you or something.”
I raised my right brow. “What if I like that sort of thing?”
She covered her mouth to contain her giggles. “Nope. You don’t look like the type.”
“And what type do I look like, GG?”
Her hand slid from her lips to reveal a mischievous grin. “You look like the type to dish them out.”
I held her gaze for a long time, fighting the desire to prop her over my knee to do just exactly that: spank her. She was teasing me. She knew she was doing it too. And something about her playful defiance just made me want her that much more.
Maybe later, I thought. Mission first. Chat second.
I licked my lips while continuing to focus on her darling gray eyes. And hopefully, I can get another taste of those lips.
***
Night wrapped its onyx wings around downtown Atlanta as we made our way to the abandoned factory. Faint music pumped through the air, a mild chill echoing around us much along with the faded sounds of conversation and laughter. Ahead of us was the abandoned factory with its giant tubes rising into the sky bathed with rust and soot.
From what I could see, it appeared to be a standard chicken factory. The empty tar lot stretched on either side of us like a gaping sea welcoming us into its darkness. I wasn’t a fan that the streetlights didn’t quite stretch in this direction, but I had my wolf vision. I had enough sense to notice the hint of copper in the air.
Blood.
Regina grabbed my hand. I squeezed her fingers, assuring her I was with her every step of the way. Around my neck rested the amulet, protected by a layer of magic done up with her talented fingers and tucked safely beneath my t-shirt. No club clothes tonight. Just the usual garb that kept my human skin safe from the elements.
But I did keep the biker boots.
Loose bits of tar and rocks kicked underfoot. Regina walked closer to my side as we approached the rusty doors, a fact that warmed me and alarmed me at the same time. If she didn’t feel safe walking up to the building, then how did we know this wasn’t a trap?
As I told her earlier this morning, it was better to assume and be prepared than to be caught with our asses exposed. The amulet was safe. She had charms in her pockets—small bags of explosive magic that could fool even the most gifted of vampires so we could get away—and we were already checking the building for other exits and walkways.
The structure loomed above like a shadowy omen. I didn’t like the look of it. But if this was what got us closer to completing our goal so we could go home, then I would do it. Home meant having a proper conversation about the mate thing.
It also meant the possibility of kissing her again.
Within ten feet of the iron door, it wheezed open, releasing a resonant squeal that seemed to come from deep within the structure. There stood the human feeding tube named Scorn with a bored expression on his face.
He huffed while waving us toward him. “Pick it up. Come on. This isn’t a spa.”
I snorted as I sped past the human. “Could have fooled me.”
