“Even if that were true, which it isn’t,you’re still beautiful.”
“Why are you here?”
“I appreciate art.”
“Julian…” Her voice trailed off when sherealized she didn’t know what to say. “I have to get back towork.”
She began to turn away, but his fingers,enclosing loosely around her wrist, halted her. His flesh burnedinto hers, and before she could stop herself, the fingers of herother hand encircled his wrist. When she realized what she wasdoing, she let him go and tugged her arm away.
“I think the blonde would like to see youagain,” Aida said and nodded to where the woman stood near the endof the hall. When Julian turned toward her, the woman turned herattention to the painting in front of her.
The wicked and teasing smile he gave Aida didfunny things to her insides. “I prefer girls with darker hair.”
He lifted a tendril of black hair from hershoulder and ran the silken strand through his fingers. It shone inthe lights, as did her golden eyes as she watched him like he wasthe predator about to pounce, and he definitely felt like pouncingas he stepped closer to her.
CHAPTER 16
Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Aida’sheart raced as her head tipped back to take in Julian looming overher. The clatter of a tray hitting the ground jerked her back toher senses.
“I have to go.” She pulled her hair free ofhis grasp and hurried toward the young waitress who was mutteringapologies as she tossed shrimp onto her tray.
“It’s okay,” Aida said as she knelt to helpher.
She was happy her hands didn’t shake as shewiped up the cocktail sauce and finished cleaning up the mess.Needing to wash her hands, she wound her way through the crowd andinto the bathroom.
For the next hour, Julian watched Aida as shemade her way around the room, talking with the crowd, helping thecaterers, and placing small plaques under the sold paintings. Itdidn’t take him long to figure out who Nicolette was as she oftenwaved Aida over or sent her to run some errand.
And, of course, there was Owen. The man alsomingled amongst the crowd, laughing with his prospective buyers orstopping to explain his work. Julian thought artists were supposedto be tortured souls who locked themselves away from the world, butOwen soaked up the attention.
Owen also grabbed Aida as often as he could.He stopped her as she was walking by with a plaque. Her smile neverwavered, but her shoulders stiffened when Owen rested his handpossessively on the small of her back. A haze of red shadowedJulian’s vision until it looked as if blood coated everything.
He so badly wanted to see blood; he cravedthe taste of it sliding down his throat and the rush of power thatcame with holding someone’s life in his hands. Except he wouldn’thold that life, he would crush it like a bug crashing into awindshield. And he would start with Owen.
“Champagne?” a pretty brunette server offeredas she stopped in front of him.
His nostrils flared when the beat of herheart resounded in his ears; his gaze slid to her neck. Everymuscle in his body tensed as he fought against seizing her throatand dragging her close to drain her. Gritting his teeth, he lifteda glass off the tray and gave her a look that caused her to scurryaway.
He ran a hand over his face and rubbed at hisbeard as he tried to control his bloodlust. Before coming here,he’d prepared himself to be around so many people and Owen bydrinking two bags of blood. However, the hunger was back, and beingaround this many people didn’t help it.
When Owen leaned down to whisper something inAida’s ear, the glass snapped in Julian’s hand. He didn’t feel thestem of the glass digging into his palm and scraping against hisbone as power swelled through his body. The demon strained to breakfree, but if he released it now, the savagery it would unleashwould make Leatherface look like a kitten.
He had to get out of here, but he didn’t darewalk past anyone right now. He didn’t trust himself not to killthem. The bathroom was only five feet away. He could make it thereif he kept his gaze focused on the door.
Don’t look at anyone. Don’t listen to theirhearts. Don’t kill them. Whatever you do, don’t kill them!
Keeping the glass in hand, he made his wayover to the door and turned the knob to discover it locked. “I’llbe right out,” a voice called.
Julian almost hit the door as he pushed theglass deeper into his palm. Wedged up against his bones, it refusedto go any further. He was about to tear off the handle, shove hisway inside, and eat the unfortunate soul within when a hand settledon his arm.
It was as if he’d walked out of an infernoand into a burst of fresh air as the red shading his vision faded,and he could breathe again. When he turned to gaze at Aida, healmost crushed her against him as overwhelming relief and adesperate need to hold her nearly knocked him to his knees.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” he assured her.Or at least I amnow.
When she touched his hand, he realized itremained fisted around the stem of the champagne glass.
“What did you do?” she asked.
