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She was an attractive female, intelligent and pleasant to be around, and he liked her spirit, but her response to him hadn't been what he was used to from someone he was interested in.
Margo seemed to like and admire him, and she'd expressed her gratitude several times, but the only time he'd scented a whiff of arousal from her was when he'd held her in his arms. Still, the smell of drugs had been so potent that he couldn't be sure he'd gotten it right.
Especially since he hadn't smelled it again.
She'd been nice to him, escorting him to the bathroom when she'd thought he had trouble with his contact lenses, and a few times he had caught her glaring at Jasmine when she'd thought that the woman was acting flirtatious, but he could have been wrong about that as well.
Human jealousy smelled like rotting citrus fruit to him, and he hadn't smelled anything like that from Margo. It was as if she was intellectually possessive of him, but her feelings for him didn't run deep enough to evoke arousal or jealousy.
Some humans emitted less emotional scents than others, but that wasn't the case with Margo. When she was angry or suspicious, her scent indicated that very clearly.
Maybe she wasn't into males?
She could be interested in Jasmine, and then her annoyance at the woman's flirting would make sense. Except, it hadn't bothered Margo when Jasmine turned her attention to the pilot.
Confusing female.
With a sigh, Negal removed his clothing, put it in the laundry basket, and stepped into the shower.
The steam relaxed his tense muscles, and as he shampooed his hair and soaped his body, getting rid of the last of the lingering smells of Modana and his men, he relaxed further. He hadn't realized how much they had bothered him until he had gotten rid of the clothing and scrubbed his body clean.
It was hot and humid in Puerto Vallarta, so the body odor hadn't been surprising, but to him, it reeked like rotten meat, and he'd come to associate it with evil. Since he didn't have Dalhu's ability to actually smell it, he knew that it was just an association his mind was making.
That was precisely the reason why he suspected that his fascination with Margo was the product of Frankie's suggestion and his mind's tendency to expand on it and attach meaning where it didn't belong.
Margo was just an attractive human, who was possibly a Dormant, who could possibly become immortal, and who could possibly be his fated mate.
Damn it. He was doing it again.
Closing his eyes, Negal tilted his head back and let the spray fall on his face, hoping the scalding water would wash the nonsense away,
Except, it did the exact opposite.
Margo's mirage appeared behind his closed lids, and unlike in real life, she smiled at him suggestively and beckoned him with a hooked finger. "Come to me," she seemed to say. "I want you."
With a groan, Negal planted one hand on the marble wall, leaned into his shoulder, and palmed his straining erection with the other. "You don't want me," he said to the phantom image.
"I do." She licked her lips and then blew him a kiss.
"Then show me."
He didn't have to explain himself to the product of his imagination.
Smiling, she pulled her dress over her head, tossing it aside, and of course, she wasn't wearing anything underneath. And, of course, she was even more magnificent in the nude than clothed.
"So beautiful," he said. "Play with yourself for me."
"Like this?" She cupped her breasts.
"It's a good start."
He was losing his fucking mind, but he didn't care. This fantasy felt too good to stop, even though he knew he would hate himself for it later.
Fueling his obsession was not a smart move.
Margo abandoned one breast to slide her hand over her belly and down between her legs. "Is this better?"
"Yes. Keep going." The hand on his shaft moved faster, squeezed harder.
