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She turned toward him a little more, still surprised by his sudden appeal. “He’s getting us a couple of beers. Would you care to join us?” Okay, this was way off the grid, inviting another man to join in her date with Yolen. Somewhere deep inside her brain warning bells started going off.
His gaze drifted down the front of her shirt, dwelling for a long moment on her cleavage. She’d worn the deep-cut blouse for Yolen, yet right now, she didn’t mind Keynes looking. Sure enough, another warning bell sounded. What the hell was going on with her? Maybe she was more intent on ending things with Yolen than she’d realized.
His gaze drifted up her throat and his nostrils flared. “By all the elf lords,” he murmured on what sounded like a pained whisper, “you smell incredible.”
He breathed in again, closing his eyes this time, then leaning close. When he opened them once more, the hunger she saw there aroused her something fierce. Sweet Goddess, what the hell was happening?
But what she said next, startled her, as though she’d completely lost her moral compass. “See anything you want?” Then she slowly slid her hair away from her throat. Was this her? Why was she doing this? She didn’t understand. But a sudden need to feed the vampire rolled through her in a steady, hot wave.
“You smell like ancient seas rich with life, with a kind of sweet flower underneath. I don’t think I’ve ever known anything like it.”
Slowly, he settled a hand on her shoulder, moving in tight to sniff all along her cheek.
His touch ignited a fire that stunned Brianna and she almost asked him to take her out of there, to take her home, even to take her to bed.
But she couldn’t do that to Yolen. She tried to draw back, but his hand was clamped on her shoulder and a terrible part of her didn’t want him to let go. And she really didn’t understand why her heart pounded so heavily in her chest, crying out to satisfy what she could sense was the vampire’s terrible craving for her blood.
* * * * * * * * *
Yolen tucked his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans and was about to pick up the two pints he’d just bought, when an odd vibration in the air started pummeling him.
Leaving the beers where they were, he turned slowly in Brianna’s direction. Both biceps flexed all over again, but for a different reason. This time, he smelled Brianna’s desire on the air, his woman’s unique scent, a faint whiff of jasmine combined with sea air, a scent he’d come to love and to savor.
A scent meant only for him.
But a man leaned over her, way too close.
Mastyr Keynes.
He appeared to be nuzzling Brianna’s neck, his hand caressing her shoulder.
Worse, Brianna was into him.
Yolen had only been gone a couple of minutes and not only had another man put the moves on his woman, but Brianna liked what he was doing.
He heard a strange rushing sound in his ears, blood through his veins. Power rose in a terrifying geyser, a familiar surge attached to his mastyr calling, and he roared.
He launched himself in levitated flight across the room, well above the crowd. He nicked some of the hanging lights at the same time, which sent people ducking and screaming.
Keynes, in slow motion, pivoted in his direction, and smiled, his eyes darkening. Then he launched at Yolen.
At the same moment, he saw Brianna’s eyes widen. She grabbed her shawl and her satchel and moved to the far wall.
Good. She was safe.
Then it was game on as he caught the bastard midair and brought him hard to the floor, banging into chairs. Things crashed around him as he pounded Keynes’s face, that smug look of mastyr self-importance.
Something struck at his own chin and cheek a couple of times, but he wasn’t feeling anything except the need to connect his fist with any part of Keynes’s body.
But Keynes was damn strong and jumped his feet. Yolen followed and got in a hard hit. Keynes’s head jerked back, just enough for Yolen to watch as Brianna slung her shawl over her shoulders and, with her satchel tucked beneath her arm, left the bar.
His woman was leaving. He didn’t want her to leave. He couldn’t let her leave.
When she opened the door, he even felt a cool breeze blow through the space or maybe it was the wind caused by Keynes’s fist as he hit Yolen square on his unguarded jaw.
Stars followed, as well as an odd view of the bar’s ceiling and swinging overhead lights.
Yolen drifted to the floor, then everything went dark.
