She scowled at him. "I'll make you miserable."
He arched a brow. "What else is new?"
She blinked. She'd made him miserable? How? She'd always been nice to him. She noted the amused looks among the crowd. Dammit. They were enjoying this.
Roman cleared his throat. "Phil, do you understand the responsibilities that come with sponsorship?"
"Yes," he replied. "I can do it."
"Very well." Roman gave him a grateful smile. "The job is yours. Thank you. Laszlo, make a note of it."
"Yes, sir." Laszlo scratched away on his parchment.
"Wait a minute!" Vanda marched toward Phil. "You can't do this. I never agreed to it."
"Come." He jerked his head toward the door, then strode down the aisle and out of the room.
Vanda's mouth fell open. What the hell was he doing, giving her orders? Though she had to admit his backside looked really good. She glanced around and noticed the other Vamps watching her curiously. Well, maybe Phil was right, and they shouldn't discuss this fiasco in front of an audience.
She stalked out the door and spotted him across the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He'd always had rather big biceps for a mortal. "Look. This is a mistake. You're a mortal. You can't handle a Vamp."
"I made you leave the room, didn't I?"
Her anger flared. "Only because I didn't want to embarrass you in front of everyone while I kick your ass!"
His mouth tilted up. "Try it."
She stepped closer to him. "I've eaten mortals like you for breakfast."
His smile grew. "Lucky bastards."
She stepped back, huffing with exasperation. "Phil, this is crazy! You can't just...force yourself on me."
Something hot flared in his eyes. His gaze wandered down to her feet, then back to her face. "Sweetheart, no force will be necessary."
She swallowed hard. Did he think he could seduce her? Sure, she'd flirted with him in the past, but that had been nothing more than a little harmless fun. She couldn't actually get close to Phil. She couldn't open her coffin of horrors to him. Hell, she didn't open that door even for herself.
She took another step back. "No."
A flicker of sympathy registered in his eyes before they hardened to an icy blue. "We all have an inner beast, Vanda. It's time for you to face yours."
"Never," she whispered, and teleported away.
Now that went well.
Phil frowned at the space Vanda had just vacated. Her scent lingered, something sweet and flowery like jasmine. He suspected it came from the gel she used to spike up her hair, but he might never get close enough to know. She was as fierce as a wildcat, hissing and showing her claws if anyone got too close. That alone made her intriguing. Combine it with stormy gray eyes, sweet lips, porcelain skin, and luscious curves, and the result was a woman who could destroy a man without ever laying a finger or a fang on him.
Entice, then push away. She'd done that for five long years while he'd worked as part of the security team at Roman's townhouse. Harmless flirtation, she'd called it, whenever his boss, Connor, had fussed at her. It had never been flirtation. Nor harmless. It was torture.
He'd always acted with honorable restraint. Honorable, he thought with a snort. That just meant he'd lusted for her in private.
When she'd left Roman's townhouse three years ago, he'd tried to forget about her and move on with his life. Unfortunately, seeing her tonight had unleashed years of pent-up, unrequited lust. All the memories flooded back. Memories of her teasing looks, flirtatious words, and light touches on his arms and chest. God help him, he still wanted her. He wanted her something fierce.
This time it would be different. He wasn't her guard anymore. Let her try that "harmless flirtation" with him now. A few scratches from her sharp claws wouldn't scare him away. He closed his eyes, imagining her soft, naked body beneath his, and her raw, explosive emotions erupting in a frenzy of passion. Yeah, that was the best way to cure her anger problem. He'd turn the raging tiger into a cuddly little kitty. She would be so wild and so sweet-
A door clicked shut, and Phil's eyes snapped open. Shit. He carefully refrained from looking down at the bulge in his trousers. "Father Andrew. Good to see you again."
"Mr. Jones." The priest extended a hand.