Grievous (Wanted Men #5) - Nancy Haviland Page 0,4

reached level ground. “Going by the look in his eyes, I don’t think that would be good for him right now. I hope he’s going to be okay. You’re with him all the time, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad.”

She was the first to push out the doors, and she breathed deeply, gulping in the cold December air. Sorin took her elbow again, and rather than have the uniformed doorman wave for one of the bright yellow taxis passing by, he brought her to a sleek Bentley.

“We have the chopper on standby,” Sorin informed her. “So you can rest easy and travel in comfort.”

“Oh.” She blinked as her vision began to tunnel. “’Kay. Uh, yeah, that’s okay then. S’long as he’s covered.” Was she slurring?

Sorin didn’t say anything as he settled her into the luxurious rear seat of the car.

“Smells great in here.” She inhaled Lucian’s scent and tried to hide a shiver. She didn’t even care when his monster bodyguard leaned over to pull her seatbelt out so he could strap her in. Until she realized Sorin had leaned over to pull her seatbelt out so he could strap her in. “’Kay I’m good. Go take care of him. He needs…um, yeah, you go now. Don’ leave him alone, Sor’n. He’s…hurting.” She pushed two big mitts away and shooed the gruff bear out of her personal space.

It felt as if her brain was trying to do a front roll in her skull, and she was suddenly having a hell of a time keeping her eyes from sliding closed.

The last thing she felt was a gentle hand tipping her head to the side and tucking her cheek into a small pillow.

“Sor’n? What’s happ’ning?”

“Straight to the airport,” she could have sworn he said to the driver, but the ringing in her ears made it difficult to know for sure. Her shoulder was patted. “Rest now, Ms. Michaels.”

Because she had absolutely no choice in the matter, her consciousness slipped away, and she did as she was told.

♦ ♦ ♦

Lucian Fane shook another hand and nodded without hearing what the person said. But because he respected the investment banker, he waited until her back was to him before looking at the Patek Philippe on his wrist that he’d never again wear. Triggers were dealt with so they couldn’t dredge memories better left buried.

Up his head came. He wanted to leave. He needed to leave. Isaac would text when he reached La Guardia; then it would take Lucian less than twenty minutes to get to the jet via chopper. He didn’t want to wait. His fingers were itching, his groin already growing heavy, his gut rolling with anticipation. For what? To get his hands on her again. To sink into her body. To hear her moan and cry out as she broke apart and clamped down on whatever part of him he had inside her at that moment. He still remembered the silky tightness of that pussy he’d glutted himself on the one and only night he’d had her.

He was keeping her for a while. Taking her from her life. Without her knowledge or permission.

As his gaze strayed to Markus’s picture, his agony struggled, trying to find a way around his rage. It wanted to ravage him some more. It would endlessly tear him apart if it got in. But there was no break. No weakness in the brittle shell now protecting him. There was only the solid, impenetrable force that would carry him forward. Guilt and shame no longer existed. The demons now in residence had banished such foolishness.

He looked away from that beautiful face he would miss forever and focused on what he was able to feel. Rage and lust. As one did its best to blacken his heart completely, the other caused the type of hunger he imagined addicts dealt with. A hunger that would not die until it was fed. And he would feed it. Sparing Yasmeen Michaels was no longer something he had any interest in doing. Chivalry was indeed dead. He didn’t care that she would take his attention from issues more important than sinking into a willing body. He certainly didn’t care about proving he was disciplined enough to resist her allure. He had. For two years. But every man had a weakness. His was an orphaned girl who’d grown up in a dilapidated neighborhood, surrounded by poverty and crime, yet now appeared regal enough to rule a nation.

If anything had come from this experience, it was the reminder to follow